"A WEDDING GIFT has arrived for you," Aegeus says, peeking into my sitting room. "From Colchis," he adds like a mischievous boy who is excited to share a secret.
I jump up. Or at any rate, I want to jump up, but I’m so heavy with child my limbs seem to have lost their spring. This is the problem with accelerating a pregnancy, the body doesn’t have time to adjust to the sudden increase in bulk, unlike a normal pregnancy in which weight is slowly added on over nine months allowing the body to strengthen along with the additional burden. So, instead of jumping, I hoist myself ungracefully from the chair, but in my heart I’m jumping. A gift from Colchis can only be from my father. This is good news. This means he acknowledges my marriage and knows of his forthcoming grandchild.
"What is it?" I ask, going to the window that looks out over the villa’s courtyard where deliveries are normally made, but there is nothing to see. Whatever it is has already been delivered and stashed away.
"A bull. Seems an odd gift. Maybe he thinks you’ve married Minos," he adds. I think he intends it as a joke, but it falls gravely flat. After all, even if he pretends certainty in Theseus’s ability, my husband has to know his son might already be dead due to Minos’s cruelty. "A bull," he mutters again.
Embarrassment creeps over me. I’ve married into the most technologically advanced polis in Osteria and now my father has made me feel no better than an agrarian peasant by giving me a piece of livestock for a wedding gift. Still, I know this is no ordinary animal. This must be one of the pair of the fire-breathing bulls my father owns. It’s a valuable creature, but I wonder if my father is sending me a message, reminding me of the man who fought these animals—the man who is still legally my husband. It would be just like my father to give a gift that both celebrates and chastises me.
"My father probably sees it as valuable. If I’m correct, it’s a very large animal. It would make an excellent meal to celebrate Theseus’s return." I say this encouragingly even though I know Theseus is probably dead by now. His time with the minotaur would have been yesterday. I stroke my belly, dismayed by my father’s tactlessness, but content that my child is now Aegeus’s only heir and, as he has promised me, will be named so on his birthday. Perhaps I’ll have the butchers make some jerky from the bull and send a pack to my father with word of my success and to let him know he too has an heir.
"Yes, let’s hope we have some news to celebrate soon," Aegeus says and for a moment I think he means my child inheriting both the kingdom of Colchis and the polis of Athenos, but then I realize with a stab of annoyance he means Theseus’s return. I touch his arm to give comfort.
"I’m sure we will. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll rest a bit."
Aegeus makes offers to fetch me food, wine, pillows, but I assure him several times I have all I need before he finally goes. I’m barely two pages into the book I’m reading when a knock sounds at my door. I roll my eyes. Can Aegeus not find something to do other than cater to me?
"Come in," I call, not wanting to make the effort to get up again.
The door creaks open and a boy with a smudge of dirt across his cheek peers in. It’s one of the servants I’ve seen bustling about the palace—villa, I remind myself—but I’m not sure what he does exactly. Once in, he stands with his hands behind his back and looking shyly at the floor.
"You don’t have to act so scared. Even if I wanted to bite you, I’m sure you could outrun me," I say lightly. He blushes and finally steps forward. He holds out a crumpled letter.
"This came along with your, your wedding gift."
When I reach for the letter, I see his hand is burnt.
"Do you work in the kitchens?"
"No, ma'am. The stables. I tried to pet your, your gift."
"Better stick to petting the ponies. This fellow doesn’t like to be touched." I push myself up, my back aches with tension and I tell myself I need to stretch before I become a stiff old hag. I go to my shelves and sort through a stack of jars until I find the salve I’m looking for. I scoop a little out and rub it on his hands. The look of relief on his face is plain. An unexpected pang of nostalgia hits me as I recall the last person I gave the salve to: Jason. But I shake off the feeling. He betrayed me. I shouldn't waste my thoughts on him. I hand the jar to the boy.
"This will not only soothe the burn, but also protect your skin from further scalding."
"Thank you ma'am," the boy says, his face blushing bright red as he scurries out of the room.
I turn the letter over and recognize my father’s scrawl. Thankfully he's only put "To the bride" on the front and not my real name to be seen by the villa’s servants who might recognize it. I again wonder if he’s being cynical by calling me a bride when I am already another man’s wife. I crack the seal. Every sentence adds another log to the fire of my anger until I’m a raging inferno by the time I’m through.
Daughter,
You've wed again. And rumor has it you’ve bred again as well. Maybe this time you can keep the bairn alive for more than a day.
I sit here in my castle, the home you abandoned, wrapped in the cloak you sent.
I stare at the letter in confusion. I sent my father no cloak, no gift at all. He never deserved one. I continue reading, hoping the doddering old fool will start making sense.
It was found amongst the piles of threats I received from the people of Illamos Valley who were angry with you for what you did to your twins, and angry with me for having sired you. After the first fifty messages I gave up and let all the letters from outside Colchis pile up in the receiving room. But eventually it got to be too much and I set a girl the task of sorting them. She found the cloak that now keeps me warm. She was a good little worker and probably more loyal than you. Too bad she died soon after giving me this bit of comfort.
Now I’m sick. It's been building in me and I don't doubt I’ll die soon.
I will die a disappointed man.
You killed my heir, Abby.
You killed my heirs, your twins from Jason.
You had begged me to make Jason heir, then you demanded I remove Jason's name from my documents promising me you would provide a better heir. I did, trusting you even though I shouldn’t. And there you are. No living child and now doubly married so any bairn you have will be a bastard once your husband finds out. Assuming of course you let any child from your womb live.
At this point my hands tighten on the cheap paper my father prefers. It tears easily under my grip, but the damage does nothing to stop the insults my father heaps upon me.
Because of this I have decided Phrixus will be my heir. His wife Glauce has given birth to a healthy (and still alive) son ensuring the line will continue. The papers are being drawn up now and I’m planning quite a ceremony soon to celebrate the signing of what I believe is the best decision I've made. And, as ill as I feel now, it may be the last official decision I make.
I do not expect and do not want you to come. You will only make a mess of things.
Your father, Aeetes
A myriad of thoughts swarms my head. The cloak. Seeing Glauce’s name made me realize which cloak he means. Somehow the poisoned garment I intended to be delivered to Glauce to do away with the meddling cow ended up in my father's possession. Over the months since I coated it in poison, hoping to kill the whore who both Jason and Phrixus betrayed me with, the poison must have worn off or lessened in potency. Strong enough to kill a small child like the servant girl who had to sift through the mail, not strong enough to poison a grown man outright, but still potent enough to seep into his skin and sicken him over a period of months.
I don’t care that my father is dying. He always made me feel second best. Never good enough to be heir in my own right, only good enough to breed an heir and unless I succeeded at that I was nothing to him. So I don't mourn his dying. I do however need to get to Colchis before he passes. Those papers naming Phrixus heir cannot be made official. He needs to see I'm quite full of the future ruler of Colchis. He needs to see that I’m worth something. I crumple the letter, crushing it as if I could use my anger to compact it into a stone, and hurl it across the room.
When a servant girl, looking bright and cheery and very light on her feet, comes to the door I want to throw her out the window.
"What is it?" I snap.
She takes two steps back, but the bright smile is still plastered on her youthful face. "The guards have gone to President Aegeus. They say a man calling himself Theseus is here. They think Aegeus’s son is returned," she says in a rush of excitement then makes a quick curtsy before hurrying off.
I kick my book. I would bend over to pick it up and tear it to pieces, but this stupid child in me makes bending over too awkward. I waddle over to the window, ready to punch through the glass when Aegeus’s voice, coming from the direction of my door and bubbling with excitement says, "Isn’t it wonderful?"
I brush my hand along my hair to play off my angry gesture, then compose my face into a mask of subdued happiness before turning to him. "It may be, but I would hate to see you disappointed."
"Disappointed?" he blusters. "How in Osteria could I be disappointed at my son’s return?"
I’m surprised at how fast my mind puts things in order. And a little incredulous that Aegeus hasn’t connected the same dots of logic.
"Theseus would have only gone into the maze yesterday, the day before at the earliest. Even with a chariot-racing horse he hasn’t had near enough time to get back here. I worry this may be an imposter. I hope as much as you do that somehow it is him, but I caution you to not get your hopes elevated too far."
Aegeus’s face falls and he suddenly looks quite old.
"Gods, you’re right. I was just so excited that I—"
"Of course you were, but let’s go see. Who knows, we may have a celebration to plan," I add, thinking how much I will enjoy arranging Theseus’s funeral.