Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
The Elementals (14 page)
“This is too elaborate and costly for a slave,” Meriones tried to tell her. “You won't be allowed to keep it. Give it back and I'll return it to Hokar and explain.”
Ebisha's eyes brimmed with tears. “I cannot keep?” But she handed the necklace back to Meriones without protest.
Tulipa would have held on to it and argued vehemently, he thought. Aloud he said, “It would make trouble. Hokar should have known this.” He turned away, unable to bear the look of disappointment on her face.
When he could, he returned the necklace to Hokar in the goldsmiths' chamber. Hokar looked as disappointed as Ebisha had been. “But it's not anything lavish,” he protested, “just a trial piece I made that didn't work out. I thought no one would mind.”
Meriones turned the glittering trinket over in his fingers, studying it. “Are you saying it's not perfect?”
“Yes.”
“Then you lie,” Meriones replied softly. “It's the best thing I've ever seen you do. This is no trial piece at all, and if the queen had caught Ebisha wearing it I don't know what would have happened. The queen herself has nothing finer. More elaborate, but not finer.”
Hokar was crestfallen. “But I want her to have something to
remind her of me. I wish I were a painter. I'd reproduce her face and form on every wall in Labrys.”
remind her of me. I wish I were a painter. I'd reproduce her face and form on every wall in Labrys.”
Meriones was beginning to lose patience with his friend. “If you care for this girl you have to be quiet about it, Hokar. The courtiers and servants of the palace aren't encouraged to ⦠well, you know ⦔
“I know. And I don't need any encouragement. Just one look from those green eyes would do it. Meriones, you have to arrange for me to see her again.”
“Aren't you listening? She's a slave. We are not supposed to have anything to do with slaves.”
“Then I'll buy her!”
“How could you? Carambis paid a high price for her, more than you make in a season, I'd guess.”
“I'll think of something,” Hokar said. His mouth became a grim, determined line.
When he left the palace that evening, Meriones did not stride out with his usual arched-back, arm-swinging ebullience. He trudged with his head down, his thoughts alternating between Tulipa at home and Hokar and Ebisha in the palace. A presentiment lay like a cloud on his spirit.
He walked through heat so thick as to be palpable, even though the sun was setting. The omnipresent sea, nibbling at the northern coastline, had lost its luster and turned dull and sullen.
The music of Meriones had also lost its brightness. Santhos spoke sharply to him the next day. “What's wrong with you? Your music sounds more like a dirge, and that is not the sort of music we like in the palace. The queen is displeased.”
“I have worries.”
“Everyone has worries! But our personal concerns must not dim the color of the royal apartments. Now Orene is playing your songs, and he sounds better than you do. Correct yourself or you will be playing for the cooks in the kitchens!”
Meriones struggled to throw off his melancholy. He could not bear to think of reporting another demotion to Tulipa.
Day after day she lay in the sleeping chamber, or under the olive tree. The olive tree was better, she said, because it was not quite as hot in the courtyard as it was in the upper rooms of the house. But there was no escaping the heat anywhere.
She had grown very thin. On her behalf Meriones offered gifts of food and wine and faience beads at the shrine of every god who might have any connection with good health and healing. But the sacrifices were wasted. Almost every day, Tulipa suffered a savage headache.
“Sometimes I wish you would plunge a knife into my skull and let my brains spill out,” she told Meriones. “That would ease the pressure.”
Her pain tortured him. His early tenderness came flooding back and he sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her hand, fighting back tears.
He spoke privately to Ebisha in the queen's megaron. “You said your grandsire could heal?”
“He can.”
“You said you have ways of getting word to him?”
She gave Meriones a guarded look. “Why?”
“I need ⦠I mean, my wife needs, really ⦠she is very ill, you see, and nothing anyone does seems to help. I have grown desperate, Ebisha. I thought perhaps ⦠your grandsire ⦔ He ran out of words. His dark eyes pleaded.
“Meriones, Iâ” Ebisha clamped her mouth shut suddenly. Looking up, Meriones saw the queen watching them.
“We'll talk later,” he said under his breath.
But that same day Santhos came to escort Meriones to the palace kitchens.
“This is your last chance,” Santhos said. “Do well here, and you will stay in the House of the Double Axes. Fail here, and you will go.”
But how can I play when my heart is a lump of lead in my breast? Meriones wanted to ask.
He sat on a bench; he strummed his lyre. No one listened. The kitchens bustled like a hive of bees from before dawn until long after dark. Everyone was hot, bothered, in a hurry. They brushed past Meriones, cursed at him if he was in the way, shouted at one another over the constant clatter of cooking utensils.
Worst of all, he was not allowed to leave until all work was done in the kitchens for the day, which meant very late at night. He had to make his way home in the dark when most of Knosos was long since asleep. He could not meet Hokar anymore; the goldsmith was
also snoring in his bed by the time Meriones made his weary way through the Sun Gate and headed for home.
also snoring in his bed by the time Meriones made his weary way through the Sun Gate and headed for home.
He barely had time to prepare a sketchy meal which Tulipa usually could not eat, fall on his bed for a troubled, brief sleep, and arise still in the dark to go to the well for the day's water. Then he must be on his way back to the palace, leaving his suffering wife behind him physically but carrying her every step of the way on his conscience.
He arranged with Phrixus and Dendria to look in on her and do what they could for her, but it was not enough. Nothing was enough.
Meriones began to fear his wife might die.
A different man might, perhaps, have welcomed freedom from a scold. But Meriones had a gentle heart. Long ago, he had given that heart to Tulipa. It would go into the grave with her. A girl like Ebisha might stir lust in him, or even tenderness, but he had given his wife a part of himself he could not take back, and thus would never have to give again to any woman.
The music would die with Tulipa, Meriones thought.
He was desperate to find help for her. When he could slip away from the kitchens he haunted the passageways leading to the royal apartments, hoping to see Ebisha. At last his patience was rewarded. He managed to signal her with his eyes as she walked past at the end of a procession of slaves, carrying bales of fabric to the queen's seamstresses.
From the citadels of Mycenae and Tiryns a huge tribute was sent each year to The Minos of Kn
sosâcattle and oil and wine and every manner of merchandise. Goods were stored in the vast warehouses beneath the palace, but only briefly, for most were used as soon as they arrived. The royal family indulged in an orgy of consumption meant to impress the Mediterranean world with the unrivaled wealth and power of Crete.
sosâcattle and oil and wine and every manner of merchandise. Goods were stored in the vast warehouses beneath the palace, but only briefly, for most were used as soon as they arrived. The royal family indulged in an orgy of consumption meant to impress the Mediterranean world with the unrivaled wealth and power of Crete.Within the last few days a shipload of rare and costly fabrics had arrived in the harbor. The goods were immediately transported to Labrys, where the royal family would make their selections from the best of the best. When their choices were made, complete new wardrobes would be sewn not only for The Minos and his family, but also for every member of their court.
The minions of The Minos would bloom like fresh flowers.
The Minos had recently decreed that each season's clothing was to be burned at the end of the season, a ceremonial destruction of the old and celebration of the new. This unprecedentedly lavish gesture could not fail to impress the other sea kings.
Ebisha could barely see over the folds of shimmering cloth she carried, but she nodded to Meriones as best she could. When the procession of slaves passed an open doorway she slipped inside and Meriones quickly joined her.
They found themselves in one of the many bathing chambers scattered throughout the palace. Its walls were lined with alabaster decorated with frescoes, and the terra cotta bathing tub stood in a recess ornamented by columns. A brazier burned continually, casting flickering shadows.
As she talked with him, Ebisha rested her burden on a marble shelf meant to hold sponges and bath oils. Meriones was saying, “My wife is very ill and no one can heal her.”
“I am no healer.”
“But your grandsire is a magician. Tereus said so. And you are in touch with him. Is there some sort of magic he might do, perhaps? I could find a way to send payment to him, I would gladly ⦔
Her eyes filled with pity. “Meriones, I tried to explain before. I can't talk to him, not the way you think. We exchange our ⦔âshe struggled with wordsâ“our feelings. I know his emotions. No more than that.”
“You couldn't ask him to help Tulipa?”
“No. I am sorry. Nor do I think he would,” Ebisha added honestly. “He is very angry. They treat him badly in this place where he is; they hurt him. He is ⦔âshe sought for the right word againâ“he is
simmering
with anger. He would not want to help. He wants to strike out.” Her eyes were very large. “His feelings frighten me, Meriones.”
simmering
with anger. He would not want to help. He wants to strike out.” Her eyes were very large. “His feelings frighten me, Meriones.”
“I'm sorry about all this, Ebisha.”
“Is not your fault.”
“I was involved.”
“If not you, Tereus would have used another person. You at least were kind to us. You tried to help, you argued for my grandsire's life.
“Perhaps it would have been better if he died,” she added in a low voice.
Meriones put a hand on her arm, trying to comfort her in spite of his own pain. Then he saw the slender gold arm ring she wore, half concealed by the sleeve of her tight-fitting bodice.
The arm ring was gold.
“Where did you get that?”
Ebisha's lashes lowered over her green eyes. “A gift from a friend.”
“Hokar the goldsmith? You've been seeing him?”
“We meet sometimes,” she admitted.
“And you're taking presents from him? Don't you know how dangerous it is?”
“He wants me to have them.”
“But what about Tereus?”
“I will not see Tereus again,” Ebisha said with female practicality. “I know that. Hokar I see every day. He is good to me. He says he will buy me out of the palace and give me my freedom.”
Hokar was obviously telling the girl a pleasant little lie. “He can't buy you,” Meriones said. He did not want her to be deceived, even by his friend. “Hokar is well rewarded for his work, but a master craftsman does not make enough to buy a favorite of the queen.”
Ebisha lifted her head. In the flickering light her green eyes blazed. “I was born free,” she said.
“I know, but look at you now. You have beautiful clothes and all you can eat. And I know the queen doesn't beat you. What more could you want? You are fortunate, really.”
When she spoke, Ebisha's voice rang in the alabaster chamber in a way that curiously reminded Meriones of his long-dead grandmother's voice. “I come from a race of free people,” she said. “I was born free, and even if Hokar has to steal to get me out of here, I shall die free!”
Her words made a chill run up Meriones' spine.
Several days passed, days of unrelenting heat. The House of the Double Axes lay languid beneath a blazing white sun. People longed in vain for the first cool breeze off the sea that would hint at the Season of the Dying God.
Tulipa was dying. But she did not die. It was as if she held death at arms' length, somehow, which made it even more painful for Meriones. It was agonizing to leave her in the mornings, yet equally painful to return at night, not knowing what he might find.
When he found her alive, he knew the agony would continue.
“There is a growth in her head,” a physician finally told him. “It is the only explanation.”
“Can't you do something?”
“The Egyptians have a technique for opening the skull and operating on the brain, but the only Egyptian physician on Crete is in the court of The Minos. He would not treat your wife.”
Meriones knew that already. Early in Tulipa's illness he had tried to gain access to The Minos' private physician and been forcefully turned away.
I am no one. Just a minor musician. As Tulipa said, I am nobody.
Pain lapped in him like a rising tide.
Santhos caught him by the arm in a passageway of the palace. “There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you. Why aren't you in the kitchens, where you belong?”
“They never miss me,” Meriones said truthfully.
“That's immaterial. You are supposed to be there. If you disobey, I shall be blamed. And I promise you I will pass on to you any punishment I receive!”
Santhos had caught him just as Meriones was about to attempt another visit to the royal apartments. In desperation, he was going to try to find and appeal to the royal physician himself. But Santhos took hold of his arm in a painful grip and dragged him back to the kitchens, where he proceeded to place a scullery boy on guard over Meriones with orders to report to Santhos immediately if the musician left his post even for a moment.
When the final meal of the day was cooked and Meriones was at last allowed to leave, he stepped from the perpetually lit halls of the palace into a Stygian darkness. The night was starless and oppressive. Leaving by the Sun Gate, he had to make his way down the stair very carefully to avoid losing his balance and falling. It would have been easy in the dark to step by mistake into one of the gutters that ran down beside the stair, part of the elaborate system of drains and baffles that slowed the flow of rain runoff and prevented the flooding of palace floors on the lower levels.
But there had been no rain in a long time. Meriones found himself longing for a storm to lighten the air.
When he reached Knõsos, and his own street, a dark shape rose before him. By the light of a lantern burning in a nearby window, Meriones recognized Hokar. The goldsmith's face was haggard and his eyes were sunk in dark hollows.
But it was not the heat that was affecting him.
“I'm in terrible trouble, Meriones. I need your help as my friend,” Hokar said urgently, whispering as if afraid they would be overheard.
“You'd better come into my house and tell me about it.” The musician longed to take off his sweaty clothing and sponge himself from the water barrel in the courtyard, but that would have to wait. Leaving Hokar in the megaron, he took time only to tiptoe upstairs and check on Tulipa.
She was awake. “I think I feel a little better, Meriones,” she said to his vast relief. “Just a little. The headache is not as bad as it has been.”
His heart pounded with hope. “Are you sure? Are you getting well?”
“I don't know about that, but I do feel somewhat stronger. Perhaps I could eat a little broth ⦠?”
Meriones plunged back down the stairs. Ignoring his guest, he busied himself with cooking pots until he had put together a concoction of leftovers that would, he prayed, do his wife some good. He carried a bowl up to her and watched with held breath while she sipped it. When she yawned and fell asleep again he returned to his guest.
Hokar was waiting patiently. “I have nothing else to do,” he said.
“What's this trouble you're in?”
Hokar was reluctant to say outright. He came at the subject with uncharacteristic obliqueness. “There was a wrestling exhibition in the Great Central Court today, you know. Everyone who could went to see it.”
“I know. The cooks made up countless platters of food to pass among the spectators. Fish, mostly. My clothes still reek of it. But what has the wrestling to do with your trouble?”
“The craftsmen were given permission to attend, and everyone
in our chambers went. Except me. I stayed behind, crouched down behind my workbench so no one would notice.”
in our chambers went. Except me. I stayed behind, crouched down behind my workbench so no one would notice.”
Meriones felt a cold hand squeeze his heart. “Why?”
Hokar would not meet his eyes. “Ebisha.” His shoulders slumped. Then he burst out, “I can think of nothing else, Meriones! She fills my mind the way my work used to!
“She said she would be my woman if she was free, but I know it would be very costly to buy her from the palace. So I stole what should be enough gold from our supplies. I buried it in the terraced gardens. They were deserted for once; everyone was at the wrestling. I did not dare keep it on me in case the loss was discovered and we were searched. Then I joined the others at the Great Central Court. No one noticed I had not been there all along.
“The theft was discovered almost as soon as we returned to our chambers. They thought someone might have come in from outside and taken the gold, but they couldn't be sure. They searched us, and I suspect they sent men to our homes to search us again when we arrived at the end of the day.
“That's why I didn't go home tonight. I couldn't face another search. My hands have begun shaking.”
“I'm not surprised! I don't know how you managed to do it in the first place.”
“It wasn't that difficult. The gold wasn't locked away.”
I suppose not, Meriones thought. Theft had never been a problem in the palace. It was well known that anyone caught stealing simply vanished, and there were whispered rumors of some horrible fate that awaited them deep in the bowels of Labrys, lost forever amid its labyrinthine twistings and turnings. The fear of the unknown kept most people at the palace honest.
Unfortunately, the Thracian's desire for a woman had outweighed his fearâfor a while. The fear appeared to be catching up with him now. He had gone very white around the eyes and his hands were, indeed, shaking.
“I don't know how I can help you,” Meriones told the unfortunate man.
“Would you if you could?”
Without thinking, the musician nodded assent.
“You can,” Hokar said eagerly, “because no one would have any reason to suspect you, you haven't been near our chambers for a
while. I'll tell you just where I hid the gold. You watch for your chance and retrieve it for me and hide it in a safer place. The gardens were just a temporary solution. The gardeners might dig there any time and find it.”
while. I'll tell you just where I hid the gold. You watch for your chance and retrieve it for me and hide it in a safer place. The gardens were just a temporary solution. The gardeners might dig there any time and find it.”
“But you can't take raw gold to Carambis and offer to buy Ebisha with it! Everyone will know exactly how you came by it!”
“I'm not going to approach Carambis at all. I've thought it out. We'll take the gold to Tereus the next time he puts in at Knõsos. I'll allow him a large cut of it, and he will use the rest to buy Ebisha himself. Once she's out of Labrys she and I will leave Crete on board the
Qatil
and make a new home for ourselves far away somewhere. An artisan can always find work.”
Qatil
and make a new home for ourselves far away somewhere. An artisan can always find work.”
“This is madness, Hokar,” Meriones said flatly. “You have no right to ask me to get involved.”
“I thought you were my friend,” the other chided him. “In Thrace, friendship is sacred to the death. Is it not that way on Crete? Is it not that way with you?” Hokar knew when a metal lacked the tensile strength to hold firm under the hammer. Meriones would give in if pressed hard enough. “Think what I will lose if I am caught, Meriones! Would you have my death on your conscience?”
Meriones squirmed. “Don't put it that way.”
“Then say you'll help me.”
Meriones had a vision of the great bull being led in for sacrifice, its piebald hide washed and gleaming, flowers wreathing its neck. He remembered the way the bull had lifted its head and looked with sad eyes at the inevitability of the ax.
“I'll help you,” he said at last. “But you'd better go home now. It's better if we're not seen as being too friendly from now on.”
“I'm afraid to go home. If any of The Minos' men are there I might give myself away, coming in so late. So nervous.”
“Drink enough of my wine to slur your speech and relax you,” Meriones instructed, thinking fast. “If there are guards tell them you've been at a party. Laugh a lot. Seem carefree. You can do it, if you drink enough beforehand.”
Hokar's beard split in a grin. “I knew I could rely on you, Meriones. The gods put you in my path.”
“I wish the gods would put someone in my path to help me,”
Meriones muttered to himself. Hokar, intent on his own problems, paid no attention.
Meriones muttered to himself. Hokar, intent on his own problems, paid no attention.
The musician fed the goldsmith wine until the man's speech slurred convincingly, then sent him on his way. “Now remember to act much drunker than you are,” he instructed. “And cheerful. Unworried. That's the important part. You must act as if you have nothing at all to feel guilty about. You've just been having a wonderful time at a party.”
He pushed Hokar out the door and watched, worrying, as his friend weaved his way up the narrow street and out of sight. Hokar was clutching the last jug of Meriones' wine in his fist.
The musician's inspiration saved the goldsmith. There were guards from the palace waiting at his house to search him again. When he arrived, however, he was so drunk and seemed so jovial they could not believe he was guilty of anything more than overindulgence. He even insisted they share his jug of wine with him.
“We've had a long wait for nothing,” one of the men said. “It's the least we deserve.” They leaned against Hokar's wall and drank the last of the wine before returning to Labrys.
Meanwhile Tulipa lay on her bed and dreamed. The pain's easing had left her prey to a curious hallucination. She thought it was the season of the Festival of the Snake, the time sacred to females.
The wombs of donkeys would be swelling with foals. New kids would soon be suckling the milk goats. It was the season, in her fevered mind, of fertility. Pilgrimages would be made to the inland mountains to conduct the rites sacred to the Good Goddess. Men were excluded as long lines of women snaked up the slopes, carrying torches and singing.
Tulipa imagined herself among them, begging the boon of motherhood. She thought she felt a cosmic response shudder through her barren belly.
In the darkness of predawn she became aware of Meriones lying beside her. “We're going to have a child,” she murmured.
He was instantly awake. “What did you say?”
But she had sunk back into her dreams. When he tried to question her she muttered crossly, not remembering.
Could it be possible? Meriones felt a jolt of joy. A child!
Suddenly the future became very precious to him.
He bitterly regretted promising to help Hokar. What if they were caught?
He went to Phrixus' house to ask Dendria to stay with Tulipa for the day. “She might be with child,” he explained. “I don't want her to be alone.”
Dendria raised her plucked eyebrows. “Tulipa, with child? I shouldn't think so.”
“I'm not certain. But she might be. And I'm very worried about her.”
“If you're that worried you should stay with her yourself,” retorted Dendria, who had better things to do.
But Meriones dared not stay home. He did not fear the wrath of Santhos as much as he feared doing something unusual that might cause suspicion.
To his relief, Dendria reluctantly agreed to keep an eye on Tulipa. Only a little late, Meriones hurried off toward the palace, forcing himself to his usual jaunty gait, even whistling a little, as if he had not a care in the world.
He had not gone very far before he encountered the white hound. The dog stood with its head cocked on one side, not completely fooled.
“Come on,” Meriones coaxed. “Walk with me.” He snapped his fingers and made cajoling noises.
The dog cocked its head on the other side, but then it came. The two walked on together. The dog was panting already, its red tongue lolling.
As they climbed up from the city toward the palace, Meriones glanced back as he often did to enjoy the view. Almost the entire Cretan fleet, largest in the Mediterranean, was in. The ships' captains were waiting for a freshening wind to blow along the northern coast.
Other books
We All Fall Down by Michael Harvey
Taken by Barnholdt, Lauren, Gorvine, Aaron
Rocky Mountain Hero (To Love Again Book 3) by Fargo, Kate
Showdown at Lizard Rock by Sandra Chastain
Worth the Risk by Claudia Connor
SHADES: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series Book 3) by James, Nicole
Terran Times Second Wave # 10 - Liberty by Viola Grace
He's Watching Me by Wesley Thomas
Napier's Bones by Derryl Murphy