CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Odysseus

ALTHOUGH I SHOULD be glad to see my cousin after these long months, the ride back to Chiron's Fields weighs on me as an absolute drudgery. I don’t want to see Jason and Chiron, and especially not Achilles; I want to see Penelope. Even just a letter from her would be enough to lighten my mood. More often than not, I wonder if she’s forgotten me.

But more than this worry is the burden of having to tell Jason that Medea was an arm’s length from me and got away. I do not look forward to telling him justice has escaped her once again.

I enter the Fields, walking my horse since my mind isn't so lost in its own troubles that I would disrespect Chiron. Gods know I don't need anyone else upset with me. Chiron, wearing a smile that seems too cheerful for my sullen mood, strides up to greet me.

"Why the long face?" Chiron says half-amused at the old centaur joke.

"Isn't that my line?" After finding out Penelope hasn’t been to the Fields after all, we exchange a few pleasantries, but he senses my unease and urges me to tell him what’s on my mind. "I have hard news to tell Jason and I don't know if it will set him back. I would hate to be the one to undo all your hard work." I don’t add that I fear my cousin will hate me for not being quick enough to grab Medea. My soul bearing goes only so far.

"He’s doing well. His friendship with Achilles has helped his mind, and his companionship with Briseis is healing his heart. I actually think he can bear whatever you have to tell him."

"Tell who what?" Jason says approaching at a running pace. By gods, he does look healthy. His cheeks are warm with exercise, not sallow from a permanent hangover as they were when I saw him last. He wipes the sweat from his brow and stretches to the left then the right. The movements show definition in his arms and legs; he has gained back the muscle he lost. As he bounces a little to ease some tension out his calves, it’s clear his body is less weighed down by an emotional burden. There’s still something dark in his eyes, but the all-encompassing depression seems to have lifted. How can I be the one to bring his troubles back? Hating what I have to say, it’s almost a relief when Achilles trots up alongside him. Who thought I’d live to see the day when I admitted to being glad to be in the company of this boastful braggart?

"What news from the outside world?" Achilles asks. I notice a woman lurking within earshot. Not Briseis, but Achilles’s overbearing mother, Thetis. As ever, I’m unclear what her role is here at Chiron's Fields. She doesn't teach, she thinks too highly of herself to stoop to any cleaning or repairs, and she’s too self-centered, or rather Achilles-centered, to provide support for any other child. If I didn’t know Chiron better, know that he doesn’t allow hangers on who don’t pull their own weight, I would guess she only remains here to keep guard over her son.

"Helen's suitors are bickering," I say curtly, avoiding my real news. With Thetis hovering over us, I again feel the need to be alone with my cousin, not standing here like a town crier. "Tyndareus came to Athenos for Aegeus’s funeral and I gave him some advice about the matter." 

I glance to Jason. He’s smiling proudly. Even a year ago, he would have been steeping in a stew of jealousy that Tyndareus would ask my advice. But now my cousin has learned I don’t want power; I want to do nothing but to help him and to live happily with my wife (if that day ever comes).

"What did you tell him?" Achilles asks. "Lock your daughter away and save the world from her?" He then laughs at his own cleverness. Gods, he’s annoying. I don’t know how my cousin can be friends with this cocky know-it-all. I answer, hoping he and his nosey mother will go away soon.

"No, I said all suitors should swear fealty to whomever she chooses."

Thetis makes a disapproving clucking sound. What is it with these two? Does she have no shame to be eavesdropping? I call over to where she pretends to be collecting mushrooms or some other item from beneath a tree.

"You don't like it, Thetis? It ensures peace." She glares at me. Her eyes are cold enough to freeze a man’s balls even in the burning depths of Hephaestus’s volcano, Mount Helena. In truth, Thetis scares me a bit, but I refuse to let it show. Jason mentioned once that he thinks she would prefer Achilles to have more illustrious friends—or maybe no friends at all—but she tolerates him and Briseis because Achilles favors them. Should Achilles ever decide he hates either of them I imagine Thetis would have a wonderful time crushing them both into dust.

"It does no such thing," she continues, tossing aside her gleanings and striding over to us. "It ensures an even bigger war if one starts. A force comprised of nearly all the vigiles of the poli rather than the usual skirmish between two poli that fizzles out within the week. You have created a monster with this advice." She crosses her arms over her flat chest and shakes her head. "No, I do not like it." She adds as if this emphatic statement will magically change Tyndareus’s mind and turn all Osteria to her will. "Now, I need to speak with my son. Alone."

"Good," I say irritably. I truly believe Achilles may have inherited his arrogance from her. "I didn’t come all this way to speak with either of you."

Chiron, seeing the flare of anger in Thetis’s eyes, steps between us, facing me and Jason. He scolds me gently with his eyes and I force myself to calm down.

"You may use my home if you need privacy."

I thank him and, without saying goodbye to the arrogant duo, Jason and I step over to Chiron’s airy home.

"Sit," I say. Jason's smile drops harder than hailstones.

"No good news ever started with the need for privacy and a command to sit."

"You’ve grown astute here," I say trying to lighten the mood.

Jason remains standing and unsmiling. I don't tell him to sit again. He is my king and it's not my place to issue orders. 

"First off, the rebuilding of Salemnos is complete," I say, hoping the good news will lessen the pain of the bad.

"Good to hear, but as you say, I’ve grown astute. That’s not why you wanted to speak to me alone."

I swallow a lump of guilt then begin my news describing all that happened, what brought me to Athenos, the minotaur, and the events when Theseus returned.

"Medea fled. She was right there. I let her slip through my grasp. I'm sorry." And with this apology, guilt suddenly bears down on me. I drop to my knees before my king, before the cousin I love. Without acknowledging my show of apologetic deference, Jason steps back. If he had even an inkling of forgiveness in him, he would have touched my shoulder to indicate I may stand. I glance up. His face is stony. His jaw clenched. His eyes are no longer bright with happiness, but dark with hatred. For me? I wonder. "I have failed you."

"Where is she headed?" he asks, not responding to my comment. "Does anyone know?"

"We found this." I stand—my knees can only take so much pleading on the hard floor—and pull from the satchel the crumpled piece of parchment Medea had left behind: a recent letter from her father. "I'm sure she's heading for Colchis." Jason nods in agreement. "She may not want to see her father, but she will want more than anything to keep Phrixus off the Colchian throne. She will try to get there before Aeetes changes his will, to get him to make her child—Aegeus’s child—heir to Colchis." I explain to him the orders I’ve given to the ports and stables in the area around Athenos City, hoping to prove to him I’m not completely useless.

Jason pauses then turns to the door. "I must pack."

"You're ready to leave?" I say, glad my cousin will return to Salemnos and begin his life again. Together we can decide how best to pursue Medea. Perseus knows the way into Colchis Harbor, maybe he could go with a group of vigiles. I know Jason is upset, but I’m bolstered by how well he’s taking the news. "It's about time, too. If you're away too long the people may think they need to pick a new leader." The moment I say it I want to slap myself. Jason and I had quarreled on the Argoa because he thought I meant to usurp him. For some reason he'd gotten it into his head that his father's kindness toward me was not simply a gesture of a generous uncle, but of a lord grooming his successor. "Not that they ever would. They love—"

"I’m going to Colchis," he says, the curt words cutting me off. "I would ask you to go, but I know you want to find Penelope. And this is something I have to do myself."

"What do you intend to do, cousin? You can’t want to return to that oppressive outcrop of rock."

"No, I don’t. But I swear to you, I swear to my dead children, that I will see Medea punished."

"I should go with you," I say, although no part of me wants to go.

"This is something I must do on my own." I hate the look in his eyes. It’s not anger—that I could handle since I’ve pissed off a number of people in my lifetime—it’s disdain. It’s a look to make me feel ashamed and worthless. "Besides, you had your chance and let her slip away," he adds maliciously.

"You can't be angry with me. I told you she disguised herself, and in the confusion—"

"Oh, I’m not angry; I’m furious. But it’s for the best; this fury will drive me as nothing ever has, not even the need to impress my father. I’ve thought about this off and on during my time here. I realize there’s only one way to put an end to my grief. Someone else taking care of the punishment I want to inflict on her will not close the wound I still bear."

I don't like his tone. It’s cold and serious, not at all like the bumbling, lighthearted Jason I grew up with. I know what he means, not legal punishment, but ancient punishment. She has killed and she must be killed. I’m a vigile. I uphold the law. I don’t agree with what he wants to do. Medea should face trial, conviction, and full penalty for what she has done to him and to Aegeus and even to her own brother, but I also understand that maybe he’s right. He may indeed need this to move on with his life.

"If this is something you need to do, then I can’t stop you. But be careful, Medea is trickier than we ever realized."

"Not for much longer."

Jason’s cold stare hardens. He may be better, but he will never be the same.