Some Pythagoras POV.
Chapter 4
Pythagoras was accustomed to Jason being injured, it occurred with dismal regularity, but last night had been something special. It had tested Pythagoras. His healing abilities were not well developed, more academic than practical, he dabbled in it, he made potions and tonics, he had an interest in the properties of various herbs but last night Jason had required more than that. That his friend was still alive today had more to do with luck and fortitude than Pythagoras's skill. And only he had known how dire the situation was. The queen had watched him with calculating eyes, gauging Jason's condition through his reaction, and it had been a strain trying not to reveal his true feelings. He had struggled not to show his despair when Jason was cold, knowing that everything inside him was moving too slowly, fighting to function, and he had struggled not to cry when Jason became hot because that was even worse, exerting his system, the damage it might have done was potentially devastating. That Jason eventually found the right balance in temperature had come from within. That Jason hadn't succumbed to the loss of blood and the pressure it put on his body had come from within, it had little to do with Pythagoras and his best efforts. Whether it was being touched by the Gods that gave his friend extraordinary resilience or just a personal and fortuitous quirk, it had saved his life, and not for the first time.
The blond man sat at the wooden table, his elbows pressed against the hard surface and covered his eyes with both hands feeling exhausted and emotionally drained. If not for the numbing tiredness he might possibly be weeping with relief like Ariadne, he certainly had the urge, just not the energy. After a few minutes his arms began to twitch, weariness threatened to overcome him and with much effort he rose from the table and stumbled into the room where Hercules was sleeping. He was really hoping for another marital bed, something big where he could drop beside his large friend and fall asleep, but it was a narrow, anemic thing and Hercules bulk consumed it all.
Pythagoras put a hand to the big man's shoulder and shook him vigorously. "Wake up. Its your turn."
There was stretching and yawning as Hercules slowly rose to wakefulness and Pythagoras was impatient with it, begrudging of the luxury when he was about to fall asleep standing. "Get up," he demanded harshly.
Hercules heard something in the tone. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up quickly, rubbing his eyes, and Pythagoras collapsed onto the rough, thin mattress with a contented sigh and shuttered his lids.
"How is he?" Hercules asked.
"Go and have a look," Pythagoras mumbled.
"He's fine, isn't he? I told you," Hercules crowed. "I told you he would be fine."
Pythagoras grappled for a suitably scathing comeback and lost interest when nothing came immediately to mind.
"You lack faith Pythagoras," Hercules continued. "It is your biggest failing. You always presume the worst, you need to work on your optimism. And… you were supposed to wake me hours ago."
"I did you a favour," the mathematician griped. "Now do the same for me and let me sleep."
Hercules lingered in the doorway for a moment, his heavy breathing giving him away. He wanted to know what happened during the night, he wanted to ask questions, Pythagoras could feel it, but after an undecided moment he retreated and the mathematician was thankful for it, in no mood to discuss how difficult the night had been.
A murmur of voices brought Pythagoras awake. It felt like he'd only had a moment of sleep, but the high light in the room and the warmth in the air told him differently, that it was possibly near noon. He listened for a moment.
"They'll come house to house soon," Ariadne said.
"That may be a week away," Hercules returned.
"Or it may be tonight." And they lapsed into silence.
Pythagoras rolled to a sit, perched on the edge of the bed, rubbed fingers into his eyes and stretched his neck from side to side. His stomach rumbled loudly and he clapped a hand over it.
He ambled out of the bedroom and found Hercules and Ariadne sitting across from each other at the table.
"There he is," Hercules greeted warmly. "I was going to wake you soon."
Pythagoras joined them at the table, dropped onto a bench seat, and was immediately distracted by the queen's attire, she was no longer dressed in the lovely blue flowing gown she had been wearing when she escaped the palace, it was replaced by something voluminous, rough and drab.
"What are you wearing?" he frowned, his tone indiscreetly betraying how unattractive he found her new garb.
The young woman peered downward, viewing herself with a creased brow and Hercules answered, "We raided Darrick's wardrobe, what he left behind anyway. The queen's outfit was much too nice and noticeable for her to wear out of doors, she'll gain much less attention in one of Darrick's old tunics."
"You've got that right," Pythagoras muttered, and noticed that Hercules had also changed outfit, his shirt was no longer stained with Jason's blood. His new item was a much better fit, like it was made for him. "Is there a shirt for Jason?"
"Oh yes," Hercules returned, his lips twitching with a smile.
"It is very red," Ariadne sighed, not amused. "I think it is ceremonial."
"It is the last shirt in the wardrobe," the big man stated. "It's either that or pin a blanket around him."
"Red will draw every eye to him, he can't wear it," the queen lamented.
"Then he will look dashing in a blanket."
"Or perhaps he could wear a cloak over the top," Pythagoras offered pragmatically and the queen raised her brows favorably at the suggestion, nodding her head slowly.
There was bread and cheese on the table and Pythagoras reached for it hungrily, taking a piece of each and popping it into his mouth, until a thought occurred to him mid-chew, making him frown. "Where did you get food?"
Hercules answered, "I went to the agora and bought as much food as my money would buy, which wasn't much so eat sparingly."
"You what?" Pythagoras choked, brows flying high in horror. "You went outside? Don't you think we should have discussed it first?"
"Discussed it with who? Everyone was asleep. And nobody is looking for a big man with a large appetite, it was fine."
Pythagoras gaped at him, irritated by the risk he had taken. Medea knew them by sight and had probably circulated their name and description to the Colchean soldiers. If anyone had saluted Hercules by name it could have been disaster. If anyone had seen Hercules enter a house that was supposed to be vacant, it could still mean disaster. He just didn't think. And berating him for it would only start an argument, so Pythagoras held his tongue and made an effort to tamp down his aggravation.
"What was it like on the street? What was the feeling?" the mathematician asked.
Hercules sniffed. "Colchean soldiers are everywhere. I believe an announcement was made this morning that Pasiphae has taken the throne but I didn't really engage in conversation with anyone, I mostly kept my head down."
A gloomy pall fell over the group.
"How is Jason?" Pythagoras asked, changing the subject.
"He's fine. He's sleeping." Hercules lifted an eyebrow. "I heard you had a rough night."
"Hm." Pythagoras didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to relive it.
"Is he alright?" There was concern in Hercules' eyes, worry in his jaw, whatever Ariadne had told him had dampened his gloating confidence, made him not quite so cavalier about Jason's injury and wellbeing.
"For now," Pythagoras offered vaguely. Things could change. He didn't want to give his friends hearty assurances that Jason would be fine when injury could be fluid, especially a grave injury, complications could arise and better to hint at it now than be misleading in his prediction.
Ariadne glanced at him sharply, narrowed her eyes but didn't press him on the matter.
Talk of Jason made the mathematician want to see him. He pushed away from the table and Hercules said quickly, "Where are you going? There are things we need to talk about."
"I know," Pythagoras returned. "I'll check on Jason and be back."
The bedroom was bright with light, the shutters at the window didn't close neatly, and Pythagoras wondered how it was possible for anyone to sleep with such high sun in the room. He considered for a moment if he could rig up a shade across the window to cut down the light, but then he figured they weren't going to be staying long so it was probably not worth the effort.
Jason was frowning in sleep. Pale and drawn, his right arm was slung across his body, the hand resting on top of the wound and when he shifted slightly he emitted a soft moan and the hand gripped momentarily, formed a tight fist, then slowly relaxed. The Oracle's pain relieving tincture had worn off, Pythagoras deduced, and every small movement was lancing through that shoulder. It probably didn't even need movement, the shoulder was probably complaining even when still.
Sleep was the best thing for Jason. A week of sleep was what he needed, a prolonged period for his body to recover but it was doubtful he would get it. It was doubtful he would get a full day. The thought made Pythagoras ache for his friend, and the suffering he seemed destined to endure.
Pythagoras rubbed his hands up and down his trouser to warm his fingers, gently shifted Jason's hand away from the injury, then gingerly pulled at the bandage and cloth covering the wound, ducking his head close to his friend's shoulder so that he could examine the damage. He had deliberately avoided tampering with the dressing during the night to give the Oracle's herbs time to become embedded and effective, but if the wound was going to fester there would be evidence of it already and he wanted to know.
"Will I live?" Jason asked, and it startled Pythagoras, he had been so intent on his task that the voice scared the life out of him, made him suck in a breath as his shoulders jumped to his ears. Jason blinked long and slow trying to chase away sleep but there was humor in the question, not truly worried for his life. "How's it look?"
"Like you were run through with a dagger," the blond man answered, returning the light heartedness. "It's healing. It will take time. How do you feel?"
Jason brought up a hand to scrub at his eyes. "Like I've been run through with a dagger." He sighed. "It's… not pleasant."
Pythagoras flicked his eyebrows at the understatement. "I'm sure. I might be able to do something for you, I'll see what is left in the Oracle's pouch."
"Is there any way you could heal me instantly?" Jason asked, hope sparkling in his green eyes. "Medea was able to do that."
"Medea is a witch," Pythagoras pointed out. "I am not. I am unfamiliar with magic and the dark arts."
"Atalanta could do it too," the injured man persisted, and the mathematician frowned, not sure what was to be gained by naming all the people more skilled than him.
"Atalanta was…" Pythagoras considered for a moment. He hadn't thought about the woman in a long time, it was years since they had crossed paths with her. "I don't really know what she was, very in tune with the earth I suppose. I'm sorry Jason, I just don't have those skills. I could mix a potion to dull the pain. Or I could make a tonic to give you some energy. I can keep infection away. But that's about the best I can do. The healing will have to come from within."
Jason nodded glumly, keenly disappointed, which Pythagoras couldn't help but take as a criticism. And he couldn't blame his friend for the discontent, in different company he could fare much better.
"Is there a plan for getting Ariadne out of the city?"
"Not yet," Pythagoras dismissed, not wanting to pursue the topic, it didn't feel like something the injured man should concern himself with. "The wound looks fine, I might dress it again later."
As Pythagoras rose he rested a gentle encouraging hand against Jason's shoulder and noticed the injured man furrow his brow, bite his lip, troubled by something.
"What is it?" Pythagoras asked.
Jason regarded him uncertainly, then quietly admitted, "I don't think I can get out of this bed. I don't think I could save myself at the moment." He tried to hide his dismay with a weak smile, but his jaw twitched in misery and his eyes were avoiding, like he was ashamed, which stirred something inside Pythagoras because there was nothing shameful about being grievously injured saving the queen's life.
"It is to be expected," Pythagoras returned. "You were gravely injured. It will leave you weak for a while. Don't worry yourself."
"I won't be much help in getting us out of the city." And he winced with a pain more mental than physical.
"Just sleep for now, it is the fastest way to heal. Let us figure out the next move. We will get the queen out of the city, I promise you."
Jason opened his mouth to reply but his gaze flicked over Pythagoras' shoulder as Ariadne swept into the room. She moved deliberately to the far side of the bed, so that she could sit beside Jason on his uninjured side and as she drew near his eyes went wide with amusement. "What is that outfit?"
"It is the height of fashion," she returned with mock seriousness. "And you must tell me I look lovely in it."
"You always look lovely." Jason chuckled. "But that outfit makes you look like you lost a hundred pounds and couldn't afford new clothes."
Ariadne tinkled a girlish laugh. "So it is the perfect disguise then."
Pythagoras smiled to himself, the interaction between the couple was so warm and easy, such a delight to behold, but he always felt like an intruder when they spoke so familiarly and he beat a hasty retreat. Hercules still sat at the table, finishing off the bread and cheese.
"Save some for Jason," Pythagoras warned.
"There is more," Hercules grumbled.
The blond sunk onto a bench seat, dropped his head into his hands and stared at his large friend despondently. "He can barely move. What are we going to do?"
"We are going to come up with a plan that allows for it," Hercules said evenly.
Pythagoras regarded him with surprise; he hadn't expected such reasonableness out of that mouth, such calm sense. It was most welcome. "Do you have any ideas?"
And they began earnestly discussing possibilities. Very quickly they established that they needed a plan involving a horse or a cart to bear Jason. They narrowed down the idea to something being taken out of the city, a cargo that they could bury Ariadne under. Something that wouldn't be suspicious, that the soldiers at the gate would readily wave through, and wouldn't reveal the queen if it was searched. And there they got stuck. Not for lack of ideas, they proposed dozens of potential cargos they might carry, but for every suggestion the stumbling block was the cart being searched. With the queen still at large the soldiers at the gate were going to be very careful in searching everything and everyone leaving the city. The most promising suggestion was to load the cart with dead people, laying Ariadne at the bottom, which was horribly macabre and not an idea either of them really wanted to propose to the queen.
Ariadne returned to the table, smiling lightly. "Jason seems better."
Pythagoras hummed noncommittally, considering it mostly bravado, Jason trying not to reveal to his betrothed how badly he was hurting. Although, if she was comparing him to last night then he was definitely improved, coherent for a start.
"Is he still awake?" Hercules asked, hand poised above the last piece of cheese.
"No. He is…" Her face darkened as she shook her head mildly but didn't finish the thought. "No."
Whatever she was about to say, Pythagoras was pretty sure he shared the concern. He is very weak. He is very tired. It reminded him that he had offered to mix some remedies for his friend and he rose from the table, retrieved the oracle's pouch in the kitchen and tipped out what was left in the bag.
Suddenly a thought occurred to him. He snapped his gaze to Hercules and felt breathless with excitement. "I think I know how we can get out of the city."
"I'm listening," the big man returned.
"Jason can be what we're taking out. We'll tell the guards at the gate he's been ordered out of the city for being infectious. He looks like death, they can't help but believe it. And it happens all the time, people are always getting ordered out of the city for fear of an epidemic."
"Not all the time," Ariadne said, like it was a personal criticism. "Often times they are quarantined."
"Yes, yes." Pythagoras flapped his hand. "I have no qualms about the policy. You could wipe out a whole city with a disease. Someone being cast out for illness is not unusual, that's the point."
Hercules squinted thoughtfully, considering the idea and after a few moments pursed his lips dubiously. "Jason looks ill but he doesn't look infectious. He doesn't have any lesions or anything. What would we say he has?"
"It would be easy enough to blister his skin by rubbing an irritant over it and just call it a pox," Pythagoras returned animatedly.
"No," Ariadne interjected, horrified by the suggestion. "He's suffering enough, it would be cruel to subject him to more."
"Your majesty, it is the perfect escape," the mathematician pressed, with a real urge to convince her of the plan so sure was he that it would work. "It requires little of Jason, the irritation would only bother him for a few hours, and if we cover you with blankets and cushions and lay you behind him no one would dare get close enough to search the cart."
"It won't be perfect if Medea or Pasiphae is at the gate," Hercules pointed out. "They know Jason's face. Medea knows all our faces."
"No plan would work with Medea or Pasiphae at the gate," Pythagoras returned with curt impatience, irritated by Hercules negativity when he had earlier chided Pythagoras for the very thing. "But really, what are the chances. And in the unlikely event that they are at the gate, we would simply wait for them to leave."
Hercules and Ariadne glanced at each other, sharing dismay and skepticism in a look, but there was also an underlying desperation. They had to get out of the city. It was only a matter of time before Pasiphae found them. And here was a plan. A plan that might possibly work.
Pythagoras could see the resistance in his companions crumbling and felt a pang of guilt because Jason was not going to like it, but for the sake of the queen he would probably go along with it.
