Nobody's Prize (4 page)

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Authors: Esther Friesner

Tags: #Young adult fiction, #Social Science, #Mediterranean Region, #Mediterranean Region - History - To 476, #Historical, #Argonauts (Greek mythology), #Helen of Troy (Greek mythology), #Social Issues, #Girls & Women, #Adventure and adventurers, #Juvenile Fiction, #Greek & Roman, #Fairy Tales; Folklore & Mythology, #Jason (Greek mythology), #Fiction, #Mythology; Greek, #Legends; Myths; Fables, #Action & Adventure, #General, #Gender Studies, #Sex role, #Folklore & Mythology, #Ancient Civilizations

BOOK: Nobody's Prize
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The fishwife took a bite of her dinner. “Our prince is smart, but our king is crafty,” she said with her mouth full. She swallowed, then added, “He pretended to welcome his nephew home and pledged to make him heir, even before his own son. But I hear that at the banquet that night, he kept Jason’s wine cup full and turned the talk to heroes. He twisted things until our prince found himself trapped by his own inescapable oath to fetch the Golden Fleece.”

“Why would he vow to do something that risky, just when he’d gotten everything he wanted?” Milo asked.

“Here’s a lesson for you, lad.” Melitta leaned forward and poked him sharply in the ribs with one gnarled finger. “Don’t drink heavily at your enemy’s table, especially when your enemy claims to be your friend. The instant that Prince Jason swore he’d bring back the Fleece, the king quickly promised his nephew a fine new ship and supplies.” She took another bite of fish and bread before concluding, “If I had a sheep for every man who made his own trouble by swearing a stupid oath while drunk, I’d be a rich woman.”

         
3
         

SHIPMATES

Iolaus came for us the next night. The
Argo
was to sail at dawn. He brought Melitta a jar of the finest barley and another one filled with olive oil. She tried to refuse the gifts, but Iolaus could be very persuasive and charming. I liked him more and more for the kind and honorable way he treated someone who clearly had no power over him, for good or ill.

I dug into my belt-pouch and gave her one of my silver charms. She wanted to refuse that too, on the grounds that she wasn’t a beggar or a weakling and could still support herself with no one’s charity. I told her it wasn’t payment, but a keepsake, and asked her to remember us in her prayers to Poseidon.

There was more than moonlight brightening the harbor that night. The
Argo
was no longer beached beside the other ships but rocked at anchor some distance from shore.

“The king’s orders,” Iolaus whispered. “He thinks that once the ship’s got all her supplies aboard, she’d be too heavy for us to launch. That shows how little he knows of ships, or how little he thinks of us!”

“Or how eager he is to be sure nothing keeps Prince Jason here,” I murmured.

Torches lit the shore near the
Argo,
with a strand of flames trailing down the path from the citadel. Sentries stood watch while slaves laden with the last provisions waded out to the ship. At Iolaus’s direction, Milo and I waited in the shadows until he came back for us with two of the slaves. “Climb on their shoulders and they’ll get you on board.”

“I can get there myself,” Milo said. He sounded determined, but I pointed out that the water was over his head. If he began to flounder, he’d draw unwanted attention to us both. He saw the sense in that, and soon we found ourselves carried safely through the water and deposited over the side of the
Argo.

I started exploring the ship the moment my feet touched the planks. The scent of pine pitch filled my nostrils immediately, though I soon saw that the timbers had been so cunningly fitted together that the ship might have stayed watertight even without that gummy stuff to seal her cracks. I made my way to where the mast towered above the framework that let the crew brace it in place when needed or take it down when it was time to beach the ship for the night. Tilting my head back, I gazed up to where the great sail was bundled to the crossbeam. I glimpsed the long, leaf-bladed oars, piled against the
Argo
’s low sides, and noticed that the wooden chests where the rowers would sit had all been covered with thin cushions. My inspection was cut short when I caught sight of my brothers. Luckily for me, they were busy inspecting the leather straps that would help secure the oars between the thole pins. I retreated to the rear of the ship, where the big steering oar rested. There was still no call for the helmsman to begin his duties, so I was free to investigate the space beneath his post. A wooden platform covered a small part of the ship’s stern, making a covered storage space for gear. Someone had curtained it off with ox hides. It was too dark for me to tell what was being stored there, but it was a sheltered space where we could stay completely out of my brothers’ sight. I nearly danced for joy.

Even though I’d found a secure place for Milo and me to lie low, I continued to explore, making the
Argo
mine. There were plenty of people on board besides my brothers, but they also all had their own work to do and had no time to notice me. I was able to sneak from the stern to the prow and back again at least twice before I realized that Milo hadn’t moved. He stood where the slave had left him and stared at the lights onshore.

“Milo, good news,” I said softly in his ear, and proceeded to tell him about the haven I’d found for us. “We’ll be under the helmsman’s nose, but he’ll be too caught up managing the steering oar to be a threat. If we keep quiet, he’ll never suspect we’re there. Now come help me find some provisions. I should get an empty pot as well, for night-soil. I may be dressed like a boy, but I won’t be able just to lean over the rail and—”

“Well, hello!” A new voice sounded behind us, young and friendly. “What are you two staring at?” I turned around to see a boy so handsome I forgot to breathe. His thickly curled black hair had a blue sheen in the moonlight, and his eyes held flecks of silver. He wore nothing but a short sea-green kilt in the Mykenaean fashion, and though he was years away from having a grown man’s muscles, his body looked strong and striking as a young lion’s.

“Just wondering where to—what to do next, now that we’re on board this—the
Argo,
” I replied. I stumbled over my own words just a bit and felt my cheeks go hot and red with embarrassment.
Aphrodite, Artemis, please grant he didn’t see that!
Suddenly I wanted to know this boy’s name as desperately as I’d ever wanted to join the quest for the Golden Fleece. I hoped fiercely that he was going to sail with us. If he turned out to be an Iolkan slave, bound to stay behind, I’d die.

Idiot!
I berated myself.
Since when does a slave have the time or freedom to strike up conversations with strangers? Just look at him! He can’t be more than a couple of years older than you, so if he’s part of this voyage, there’s only one reason.
Aloud I said, “My name is Glaucus and this is Milo. We’re weapons bearers, like you.”

It was a good guess. “Thank all the gods, I thought I was the only one!” he exclaimed. “Lord Pelias didn’t want any of us aboard.”

So
that’s
the secret,
I thought, remembering how Milo and I had been rebuffed when we’d approached those other crewmen. “Why’s that?” I asked.

“I heard it’s because he meant to make the voyage as rough as possible for Prince Jason and his men, but some of the other crewmen say it’s because he didn’t want to provide supplies for more mouths than necessary. You can imagine how well my master took
that
news.” Even his laughter was beautiful. I hoped he wasn’t going to turn out to be like Theseus. I’d thought the king of Athens was handsome too, until he showed his ugly personality. “
You
tell Herakles he can’t bring me along!”

“You’re
Herakles’
weapons bearer?” I must have goggled like a strangling fish.

“You sound surprised. I’m Hylas of Trachis. Where are you two from? Who d’you serve?”

It was my turn to chuckle. “Iolaus of Thebes, your master’s nephew. We’re from Calydon. He took us when he came there to hunt the boar.”

“Ah! A fine adventure.” Hylas nodded knowingly. “Herakles and I heard more than one bard sing about that heroic hunt. I wish we could have been there. Is it true what they say about Atalanta?”

“If they say that she was brave and beautiful, yes,” I replied.

Hylas sighed. “She must have been wonderful. I wish she were sailing with us tomorrow. Did you know her well?” He addressed the question to Milo, trying to draw him into our talk. It seemed that Hylas was as good-natured as Theseus had been overbearing. I was pleased, but Milo only pressed his lips together. Hylas raised one eyebrow at this chilly response. “What about you, then?” he asked me.

It was so good to be able to talk about Atalanta! Hylas listened attentively while I told him as much about my huntress friend as I could without betraying my own secret. I don’t know how long I would have stood there, jabbering away, if Milo hadn’t spoken up.

“It’s late, Glaucus. If you don’t show me that place you found for us, we won’t have time to get food and settle in.” His eyes were flinty when he regarded Hylas. “Our master told us to keep out of the way when the ship sails and not to show ourselves for two or three days, not even when the ship’s beached for the night.”

“That’s strange,” Hylas said. “Why?”

“I don’t question my master,” Milo replied crisply. “We have to go. Come on, Glaucus.” He started for the stern.

“Wait a moment.” If Hylas noticed how rude Milo was being, he seemed willing to overlook it. “Iolaus probably doesn’t want the other men to know he’s got two weapons bearers when they can’t have even one. Let me help you.”

“We don’t need any help.” Milo crossed his arms. “We have a place at the stern. Glaucus said—”

“I
say
we listen, at least,” I cut in. “What can you do for us, Hylas?”

The beautiful boy smiled, dazzling me. “Show me this hiding place of yours first, then I’ll do as much for you as I can. We’re all brothers on this voyage.”

Just what I needed: another brother.

We all headed back toward the helm of the
Argo.
We passed the rowing benches and I spared a moment to pray,
Lord Poseidon, grant that Castor and Polydeuces have become good oarsmen.
I didn’t want my brothers to be humiliated among their new comrades.

“Ah, you do have a good refuge,” Hylas said, lifting one of the ox hides and peering into the darkness. “This is where I stored Herakles’ things, safe from sun and sea.”

“Only
his
things?” I asked. “No one else’s?”

“The other men store their belongings in the chests they sit on to row. Herakles demanded more, and he got it.” Hylas’s amused expression added,
Could you ever doubt that?
“He and I are the only ones who’d have reason to go under there, and he won’t unless there’s a call to arms. If you only need to keep out of sight for a few days, this is the best place for you. You’ll be comfortable as kings. I’ll bring you food and drink. No one will suspect anything. They’ll think I’m carrying it for myself, to eat while I’m looking after Herakles’ weapons.”

“Will we have to sleep on spear shafts?” I asked, joking.

Hylas laughed again. “Feel free to make a bed out of any spare clothing you find. What do you say?”

“That the gods are being very kind to us. So are you, and we thank you.” I cocked my head at Milo. “Shall we?” He shrugged, then stooped to shoulder past me, between the hanging hides.

“Talkative, isn’t he?” Hylas remarked.

I didn’t know what to say. What was the matter with Milo? He was in a foul mood. “He gets seasick,” I said at last. “He’s afraid it’ll keep him from doing his best for our master on this voyage.” It was a weak excuse, but Hylas just nodded.

I ducked into the little space under the helmsman’s post. It was dark as Hades’ kingdom. I felt a pair of sheathed swords, some spears, and a couple of leather bags before I found Milo. He pulled away from me as soon as my fingers brushed his skin.

“What
is
the matter with you?” I hissed. He said nothing. “Fine. Talk when you like.”

He held his silence a little longer, then spoke so softly I almost didn’t hear him say, “Helen—”

“Here you are.” One of the ox hides flicked back, showing Hylas’s curls haloed by starlight. He shoved a wide-mouthed clay pot inside. It held bread, a ball of hard cheese, and a stoppered flask. “Just water in that,” he told us. “I might get in trouble if someone saw me raiding the ship’s wine. You can use the bowl for…necessities. It won’t be pleasant with it under there during the day, but you can empty it out after we beach at sunset and no one’s left on board. I can’t wait until your master says you can show yourselves. We’ll have good times, we three! Sleep well, and the gods favor you.” He was gone.

My hands explored the clay pot and carefully set aside its contents. “Well, he thought of everything, didn’t he?” I said, joking.

“Of course he did,” Milo grumped, and I couldn’t get another word out of him.

         

Milo was just as surly and silent the next morning when the two of us were awakened by the excitement of the
Argo
’s leave-taking, but at least the rocking of the anchored ship hadn’t been enough to make him seasick. The shouted commands, the cheers, even the curses from outside our refuge made their own strange music at a feast from which we were excluded. I heard the creak and splash of the oars, the distant snap of the sail when it first snared the wind, the muffled rush and slap of the water against the side of the ship. I stole frequent peeks through the narrow gap at the bottom of the dangling ox hides, but I had to stay low, so all I got for my trouble was flashes of bare, hairy feet pounding past my eyes.

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