"YOU’LL BE FINE," I insist.
"She might say no," Orpheus says, his voice as wobbly as some of the strange gelatin creations my elderly neighbor lady insists on giving to me.
"She escaped Doliones Island to be with you. She has lived with you ever since. And she accepted your proposal on, what, the third day after your return? I hardly doubt Eurydice will suddenly change her mind."
He stares at me with a new dose of worry etched across his face. I instantly regret having used the word doubt. I know what people think of me: That, because of my red hair, I have the oracle’s gift. When will they understand trusting your intuition is a gift all people have, it’s just that most don’t choose to use it? Now, if I’m ever to get him out of this office and to his place in the arena beside his betrothed, Orpheus will need a more concrete assurance that his bride will not yank her hand away the moment Maxinia tries to bind their hands together. I roll my eyes, but speak solemnly.
"She will not refuse you."
"And?" he asks expectantly.
"And what? Do you want me to tell you the exact date she’ll become pregnant and what your children will do for their apprenticeships?" The lanky man blushes and does a very poor job at trying to suppress a smile. "She’s already pregnant, isn’t she?" I ask warmly.
"See, you know things. Is it going to be a boy or a girl? Will we have a long and happy marriage?"
A heavy stone settles in my stomach at this final question. Eurydice will marry him, that was plain the day she stood on Portaceae’s docks and greeted him with unrestrained affection when he returned from his adventures on the Argoa, but something nags me about the marriage.
Now I’m believing I’m an oracle as well. Ridiculous.
"Go. Get married before I decide to wed you to someone else."
"It’s a lucky thing she accepted," he says solemnly. "You know, because of Minos’s treachery and all that. Sometimes I feel terrible that I’m so happy."
Orpheus may consider himself an engineer, and indeed he has a talent for technology as does his bride, but, thanks to his mother trying to guide him toward a career as a harpist since he was a child, he has the sensitive heart of a poet—sensitive enough to be tuned into other’s misery even on the verge of his own joy. He’s right; he is lucky. Only Osteria’s unwed youths are being taken away to Minoa. When Portaceae is selected, this wedding will get him out of having to face the monster in the east. In fact, marriages are suddenly something even the men who boasted they would be carefree bachelors their entire lives are actively seeking out.
"It’s never wrong to be happy,” I tell him. “Now go. I’ll see you at the arena soon enough."
Orpheus makes his farewells and I watch him pass through the courtyard below where I notice the espaliered apple and pear trees are exchanging their blossoms for leaves. A bold peacock struts up to the lanky bridegroom, likely looking for corn or a pat on the head, but Orpheus jerks away from the bird and trips over the rake Euphemia has left propped against a bench. I do hope he and Eurydice don’t receive too many wedding gifts made of glass; the delicate objects would last less than a day around my clumsy friend who always seems like his skeleton is a bit too long for the muscles that are meant to carry it around.
I settle down behind the office’s wooden desk. As my home in the heart of Portaceae City isn’t large enough for a proper office, Maxinia lets me share this space on the top floor of the House of Hera to work from and to meet with people. She says she doesn’t mind; she’d shared the room with Iole, the previous Head Herene, and has no interest in being bunched up behind the desk. She prefers the long tables on the other side of the room where she can sprawl out her budget scrolls and record books. From a pile of my own documents at the corner of the desk I grab the map I’d been looking at before Orpheus showed up.
Minoa sits far to the east of Osteria. The kingdom is so far away it plays little role in most Osterians’ daily lives. We trade with the kingdom and people like to visit it to gawk at the soaring towers of glass and metal or to take part in the raucous Earthshaker events, but Minoa has always kept neutral in matters of politics and war. I can’t fathom what could have turned the jovial Minos I met last summer into a bloodthirsty tyrant. I’m aware that he keeps one of the largest armies in Osteria, an army so large it could easily take over an individual polis, but his forces are never something Minos has prided himself on. Put to the question, Minos could more readily tell you how many bulls he has than how many vigiles serve him. So why this sudden change? Why so viciously antagonize the poli these past several weeks?
Someone knocks on the door. Before I can acknowledge it, Odysseus steps in. Although he has been consumed with worry for his cousin and seems to forever be on horseback as he journeys regularly to Illamos Valley to maintain a sense of order as Salemnos rebuilds itself, he has still served here as my trusted advisor. I know he does so out of a sense of gratitude since Portaceae is helping with much of the rebuilding in Salemnos, but I do wish he would settle down and either take up a home here or in Illamos Valley. No wonder he and his wife can never find themselves in the same place at the same time.
"Haven’t opened that piece of manticore shit?" he asks indicating the sealed letter from the Osteria Council on my desk. "Keeping it sealed won’t change what’s in there."
My eyes drift to the message I received yesterday. In it is Portaceae’s fate. The Demosians and Tillaceans have already made their sacrifice, and the Astorians will soon be on their way. Will this message tell me my polis is next? Will it force me to pick the twelve finest examples of Portacean youth to be fed to the monster Minos keeps? Or will it name another polis whose own youths will spare Portaceae from the next round of this horror? I want to tear the horrible missive to pieces, but at the same time I don’t want to touch the vile thing.
"How can anyone pick twelve innocent people to send to their deaths? How did Priam do it?"
"You have to look at it as a battle. We are essentially at war with Minoa now even if the Osteria Council won’t officially declare it."
"Why do they not step in?" I shove away from the desk and, ignoring the pain in my leg, march to the window. "This is an Osterian-wide threat and they do nothing. In war do you pick and choose which troops must die first?" I grimace as I turn to face Odysseus who has been at the head of many battles, whereas most of my vigile service was spent policing the streets of Portaceae City. As Solon, I am technically commander of the Portacean vigiles, but the injuries to my leg—courtesy of the torture my cousin Eury subjected me to last summer—will keep me from any action until I fully recuperate. If I fully recuperate. I rub the ache that throbs through my leg.
"No, you find the ones most willing to go."
"I can’t ask them to volunteer.”
"Better than forcing them to go. Some will jump at the chance. This monster can’t be invincible. Someone will kill it. Just think of the glory to the person and the polis that destroys it and saves Osteria. I almost wish I weren’t married so I could go." He pauses then gives a sheepish grin. "Never tell Penelope I said that."
I pick up the letter, knowing I need to open it.
"We can’t allow this to continue. I can’t bear it." The parchment shakes in my hand, not from fear but from the anger coursing through me. "We need to stop giving in to this threat. If it’s Portaceae’s turn I will send in the twelve required Portaceans, but they will be followed up by as many vigiles as I can muster."
"You’ll make war on a kingdom without the consent of the Osteria Council?" Odysseus asks, his tone encouraging, not critical.
"The Osteria Council can ram whatever bribe they’re getting from Minoa up their asses. What happens once each polis has sent their twelve sacrifices? Do we send another twelve in an endless loop until we are out of people? This can’t go on. I thought Minos was my friend when I met him, but I will kill him myself if that’s the only way to stop this. I can’t ask any Portacean to walk into that kingdom and die without a fight."
I tear open the letter. I’m so geared up for a fight I don’t comprehend the words at first. I scan it again and slump back in the chair.
I hand Odysseus the sheet. I’m ashamed at the sense of relief washing over me.
"Athenos," Odysseus says, folding the letter and placing it on the desk. "Well, then, no war today, which is good since riding off to battle might keep us from our friend’s wedding. Speaking of—"
He hands over a folded scrap of parchment that looks like it’s been left on the floor of a busy stable. The crumpled, sweat-stained paper would never have come via one of my official messengers; they take pride in delivering their news quickly and in good shape. I take it and look for a seal. There is none. I unfold the letter. The stone of worry over Orpheus’s marriage drops into my gut again.
"You’ve read this?" I ask Odysseus. He nods. "Why should they care now? Eurydice escaped Doliones Island months ago."
I scan the letter again. It claims that Eurydice, as a wood nymph and a servant, was property of Doliones Island and that Orpheus has stolen her. If she is not returned, the Dol will take action against the man who robbed them of her. It would be laughable if I weren’t already in such a despairing mood and if Odysseus hadn’t told me what beasts the Dol truly are. Doliones Island is a region of Portaceae, but it has always kept to itself, almost like a kingdom. Still, they are part of my polis and no Portacean owns another.
"They act as if she’s a slave," I say. The only Osterians who still practice slavery are the Colchians. It’s not to say servants live lives of luxury, although I do plan to enact laws giving them certain rights regarding fair payment and freedom from cruel punishments, but they are not property and are free to come and go as they please. If the Dol force my hand and demand Eurydice’s return against her will, it could mean civil war because I will not allow any of my people—whether nymph, human, or centaur—to be a servant against their will.
"I think there’s more to it than a matter of property,” Odysseus says. “This smacks of a man who was rejected and now, even though he can’t have her, doesn’t want anyone else to have his prize."
"But still, why wait so long? Like I said, she left months ago."
"Perhaps they didn’t know where she went. I’m sure word of this wedding has travelled like wildfire across Osteria. He may not look it, but Orpheus is one of the heroes who sailed on the Argoa." Himself being one of the men aboard the Argoa, Odysseus says this with mock drama. "Osterians thrive on any news regarding their heroes. Even the reclusive Dol would’ve heard of the event."
I sigh and toss the stained parchment onto my desk.
"We’ll worry about it when the time comes. There are bigger matters to deal with," I say pointing to the kingdom of Minoa on the map. Just then, the bells begin tolling, calling everyone to the arena.
"Yes," Odysseus says cheerily. "Like getting our skinny friend wed so this minotaur doesn’t waste its time eating such a scrawny snack. And before Eurydice changes her mind."
"Dear gods, don’t say anything like that to him. He’s already worried his marriage will be over before he’s even wed." I stand but the ache in my legs almost forces me back into the chair. The injuries when I was nearly ripped into four pieces at the command of Eury normally give me no trouble except for a mild limp. But when the pressures bear down on me, it seems they settle on the injured limbs and the pain can be staggering. If not for this I would volunteer to go to Minoa myself to face this monster. I hate that I’m unable to do more for my polis. I wince as I reluctantly grab my cane.
"Acting up again?" Odysseus asks with concern.
"No, I just need to carry something so I can defend you from all the satyrs that are going to be swarming to that ugly face of yours."
"With that pigs’ anus scent coming out of your mouth, all you’ll have to do is breathe on them to scare them off. Now, let’s go watch Orpheus tremble his way through his vows."
* * *
Orpheus does indeed tremble his way through his vows, but who can blame him? Half of Portaceae seems to be overflowing the seats in the arena hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the men who sailed with Jason and Perseus last fall on the Argoa and the lovely wood nymph who chose to be his bride. Thankfully, unless Hera is nearby, Maxinia is a woman who can radiate calm even in the most stress-filled times. She may not have numbed Orpheus’s nerves, but her commanding presence at least gives him something to focus on. His arm shakes as she wraps the marriage cloth around his and Eurydice’s hands, and Odysseus jokes that Orpheus might just rattle the band off as Maxinia recites the words that will bind the two together. I try to smile, and indeed it’s impossible not to be happy for the groom as a smile fills his thin face when he looks at his new wife, but the news of Minoa and an unsettled feeling about Orpheus’s long-term happiness keeps my own smile from fully forming.
When the words are said and the cloth is unwound, the arena shakes with cheers coming from the audience inside and from the people outside who couldn’t find a seat but still wait to toast the bride and groom. As Odysseus and I head through the dark tunnel underneath the arena on our way to join in the celebrations that have already begun along the Hera Way, someone crashes into us. I stagger back clumsily and swing my cane up to use as a weapon if necessary.
"Apologies, sirs." It’s the voice of a child and I can now vaguely make out the urchin’s diminutive silhouette.
"Damn you, idiot," Odysseus hisses. "Do you know how fast I am with a sword? Your head might be rolling into the arena sand this very moment. Would you like your gorgon of a face being kicked about like a ball?"
"It’s just a boy, Odysseus," I say as I lean back onto my cane.
"You said to bring you any news, sir," the boy’s voice shows no sign of fear, but even through noise of the crowd I can hear his nostrils huff as if he’s been running at full speed to get here.
"Well, what is it?" Odysseus snaps.
"Perhaps we can wait until we’re somewhere we speak more easily?" I suggest as people bustle by and jostle us as they push their way out of the arena.
"Yes, fine, the House of Hera or your home. There’s too much noise in the streets."
Once out of the tunnel and in full daylight, I see the messenger isn’t a boy, but a young girl dressed as a vigile. She’s quite small with large eyes and could easily pass for a child if dressed in the right clothes.
"Aias!" Odysseus says in joyful recognition. He claps the girl on her shoulder and I see her wince. "Iolalus, this is Aias, one of the few clever vigiles who serve under me," he says proudly.
I shake her slim hand before we start pushing our way through the crowd to get to my home. "Are you old enough to be a vigile?" I ask. To become a vigile requires two years of training beginning at sixteen. This girl looks like she’s barely twelve.
"Yes, sir. I’m nineteen. Been serving a full year now," she says with pride. It’s rare for women to join the vigiles, but not unheard of, although I do still cringe at the thought of them fighting in a full-fledged battle.
"When I saw her on her first day of vigile training I wondered what idiot thought she was qualified for a career in our forces, but she’s dead quick with the sword and, as you can see, can be made into an excellent spy. It’s why I sent her out to search for news of Medea. No one notices children lurking around, do they?"
We finally make our way through what seems like the entire population of Portaceae City, and after a few turns we reach the house my grandfather lived in when he was Solon. My first few weeks as Portaceae’s new ruler at the end of last summer were tense ones, but it was always a relief to come back to this familiar home each night and work on its restoration. Once we pass through the foyer and into the small courtyard at the back of the house, the spy doesn’t hesitate to relate her news.
"She’s in Athenos. I’m certain it’s the woman you described. She tells of a false accusation of murdering her two children, of fleeing from her home, and of trying to start her life again. She’s also incredibly clever with potions."
Odysseus rolls his eyes. "Many women make potions. Nearly every Osterian female knows how to make tea to relieve coughs, to ease their monthly pains, and to rid themselves of any unwanted pregnancies. I can’t go to Athenos just on that—"
"No," Aias interrupts. "Sorry, sir, but I nearly forgot. She’s pregnant."
"Yet another thing many Osterian woman are capable of," Odysseus remarks.
"But this woman, she goes by the name Aegea, only met Aegeus a few months ago and she is already clearly showing her pregnancy."
Odysseus perks up. In any other circumstance, this could simply be a woman making a rich and powerful man give his name to another man’s moment of pleasure, but Medea, the Colchian princess Jason married last fall, sped up her pregnancy. Or rather, her Aunt Circe the sorceress sped it up for her. If this Aegea is doing the same, it could mean that she either knows of similar spells, that she knows Circe, or that she truly is Medea who Odysseus has sworn revenge on for the pain she caused his cousin. Just as I think Odysseus is about to congratulate Aias for her news, he slumps down into a seat.
"Medea wouldn’t be so stupid as to try that trick again. Whoever this Aegea is, she’s just a woman playing Aegeus for a fool."
"If you say so, sir, but the timing of her arrival, her dark hair, and her preference for maroon, all match your description of what you told me to watch for," Aias says as snappily as a cook whose master recipe has been insulted. I hand her a cup of wine to dull the sting of Odysseus’s words.
"I think it’s worth checking out, Odysseus," I say.
He looks to me. His face is a mix of knowing I’m right and not wanting to hear what I have to say. I know that after he delivered Jason to Chiron, he had expected Penelope to arrive in Portaceae. When she didn’t show, he hid his disappointment by boasting that as soon as Orpheus’s wedding was over he would head to Salemnos where his wife would surely be heading any day now. I am unsure what is going on with her, but Odysseus hasn’t seen Penelope since, soon after their wedding, he came last year to serve a short stint in the Portaceae vigiles. Then, with his uncanny ability to rally and organize troops, he ended up saving my polis from the Areans last summer. About the same time, Penelope left with her parents on a tour of Osteria and hasn’t returned. Despite her abandonment of him, Odysseus has been a remarkably faithful husband, pining for the moment he sees his love again. I know he wants to confront Medea, but he also wants to get to his wife. Unfortunately, he cannot get both things at this very moment.
"You would have to say that, wouldn’t you? Is this a feeling you have," he flutters his fingers at my hair, "or are you just trying to bolster Aias’s spirit?"
"It’s no feeling; it’s trusting the word of the person you just described as clever. Athenos is only a few days’ ride from here, the weather is supposed to hold through next Herasday, and Aias has given enough evidence to warrant missing Penelope for little longer. Besides, she hasn’t sent word so she probably hasn’t returned to Salemnos anyway." I can see my words sting Odysseus, but he’s not fool enough to deny them.
"You’re right. Of course you’re right. It’s really annoying that you’re always right given how much you resemble a goose’s twat." He drinks his wine in a single gulp then refills his cup. "Aias, what’s the best way to get in to see Aegeus?"
"Well, they have only recently been married. You could say you were delayed from the wedding, but are now paying your respects. Even his own son Theseus only just arrived a few weeks ago to congratulate his father."
"Theseus is there?" Odysseus asks hopefully.
"Wouldn’t he have sent word about Medea?" Theseus had been aboard the Argoa with Jason and Odysseus; he would have met Medea. If he hasn’t alerted Odysseus to her presence then perhaps my friend can indeed forget this trip and get to his wife.
"Theseus and several others went roaming with Perseus after dropping us off. Only the Twelve know if Theseus has even received word of what happened between Medea and Jason. No, I think your original instinct is right. I have to go to Athenos and see who this woman is for myself."
"Then I’ll go with you," I offer. I surprise myself with the words, but the moment they’re out, they feel right. I want to go. I need to go. Athenos is next to face the minotaur and something tells me I could be of use there. Besides, I can’t sit here staring at lists of familiar names wondering how long my own friends have to live. It feels a little like running away from responsibility, but I know I will carry the weight of the choices I have to make with me. Sitting here idly will not make the decisions any easier.
"Don’t you have Solonian stuff to see to?" Odysseus asks with a mocking tone of condescension. He takes great joy in teasing me about my duties and my devotion to those duties, but after my cousin Eury nearly drove Portaceae out of existence with his lack of attention to the polis, I have been determined to be everything he was not.
"I was serious about what I said earlier. I cannot allow what Minos is doing to continue. Things are quite stable at the moment. So stable, may I remind you, that your own polis is getting aid from me," I tease and enjoy seeing Odysseus’s grimace. "With Maxinia’s level of efficiency and organization she’ll probably be able to run this place in her sleep. I want to go with you, to help you find Medea, but I also want to speak with Aegeus. He’s got a strong army. If I can make my case to Aegeus and encourage him to fight with my forces against Minoa when the time comes, we’ll stand a better chance. If Minos wants a war, we’ll bring it to him, not wait for him to peck us away piece by piece."
A loud cheer erupts from outside the door.
"I think the wedding party has found us," Odysseus says.
"Then shall we see the happy couple to their home before we pack our travel bags?"
Odysseus nods and forces a smile to his lips then pulls himself from his chair as if burdened with a heavy weight. I put my arm around his shoulder and gesture for Aias to join us.
"Don’t worry, Penelope will wait for you." I pause. Just as Odysseus is about to say something, I add, "After all, it’s hard for a woman to find such a hideous specimen as you. She is starting a freak show when she gets back, isn’t she?"
Aias gives a laugh that is far heartier than I would have expected from her tiny frame.
"Horse’s twat," Odysseus says with a grin as we head out to join in the celebrations that have taken over the streets of my city.