Standard disclaimer applies – I don't own Atlantis or anyone in it.
Author's Note: Thank you SO much to the people who are still reading and supporting this story. Your feedback means so much to me and really helps me get the next chapter out. Thanks also to A Nun and a Mouse (great name, btw), Ash, my lovely Guest and to Chloe – I'm so glad you're liking the story and thanks for your lovely comments: they're great characters to get to play with!
Chapter 11
The sleep had helped tremendously to both enhance Pasiphae's mood and allow her to gain some much needed distance and perspective. Minos assured her that Jason had woken and, though he was still weakened and in some pain, he appeared much more coherent and even had some of his fight back. Though some would argue that was not a good thing. When Pasiphae returned to her son's room, all was quiet. She only prayed that was a favourable omen.
After knocking very lightly on the door, she pushed it open and stepped inside. A figure lay sprawled on the bed, the sunlight bathing his sleeping face. Pasiphae smiled to herself as she wandered to his bed. The blanket was pooled around her son's waist and he lay at an angle that did not look comfortable, stretched out like a cat, with one arm curled by his head and the other laying across his bare stomach. A frown creased her eyes: she had dressed him in a thin tunic before retiring for the morning but he had clearly decided that he did not want it and, looking about the room, Pasiphae could not see what on Earth he had done with the garment. The bandages around his lower legs stood out against the tanned skin and they looked as though the wrappings had shifted during his sleep. The good doctor's bindings were usually far more secure than to unravel within one night: Jason must have been moving restlessly.
A game of knuckle bones had been discarded haphazardly by his hip before he had fallen asleep. Watching his face in the late afternoon light, Pasiphae frowned. The fever was gone but she had hoped for more colour to have returned to his cheeks by now. As it was, Jason's skin was still contrastingly pale to his wild brown curls and dark shadows hung heavily beneath his eyes. With quiet deliberation, she gathered up the forgotten game and placed it on his bedside table being careful not to wake him as she leant across his sleeping form. His leather bag lay by the bed. It was a worn old thing that he brought with him from his friends in the city and Pasiphae irritably pushed it back under the bed with her foot, stowing it out of sight so that she could move around him, freely. She then set about straightening the blanket until it covered him more completely, tucking the legs back onto the bed.
Though she tried to be careful, when Pasiphae looked to Jason's face, she sighed when she saw a pair of lax, inquisitive eyes watching her. "I tried not to wake you." Jason smiled up at her in response. He watched her with lazy, peaceful eyes and as Pasiphae ran a hand across his forehead, she could not recall Jason watching her with such trust and benevolence before. Not since he was a baby and had lain in her arms, watching her gently rocking him to sleep. For the first time in a very long time she felt like his mother again.
"How are you feeling?" the queen asked, perching lightly on the edge of his bed. Jason yawned and stretched, rubbing his bandaged hand across his face.
"Fine," he mumbled. "Thanks for staying with me last night." The boy glanced down at his chest. "I'm sorry I kept you up." He gave a short, unhappy laugh. "I've been causing a lot of trouble lately, for everyone."
His mother briskly rolled her eyes and tapped a hand against his chest. "Well, it is true that you are proving quite eventful but I do so despise tedium and stagnation and you, my dear, troublesome child, are a remedy for both." Jason sighed quietly but a moment later, felt his mother's warm hand on his face. He looked up to see her smiling - a sad, faint smile. "You frightened me, Jason. Do not do that to me again." With an almost shy, hesitant smile, Jason chuckled:
"Trust me, I really don't intend to." He reached across to find his mother's hand and gave her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze which she soon returned. "I'm fine now, really – you don't need to worry about me." Pasiphae rolled her eyes and released his hand, folding her own in her lap.
"Well, thank you for your expert opinion on the healing arts. I am glad you feel so but I trust you shall not be offended if I clarify this for myself?"
"I trust it doesn't matter either way if I do or don't." The queen frowned in response though she was quickly learning that Jason's sense of humour was a part of who he was and therefore was unlikely to change. Still though, she tapped him on the arm, much the same way one might tap an errant puppy on the nose.
"Indeed," she remarked, dryly.
"So when can I get up?" Jason pressed, shifting onto his elbows in an attempt to sit up properly. Pasiphae narrowed her eyes at his efforts.
"The king has informed you of this, Jason so there is little purpose in asking me to repeat it." She obliged anyway. "When the doctor and I have assessed your condition tomorrow morning, then we shall see if you are able to leave your bed."
"My legs work just fine. It was my arm that was bitten."
"A fact that has not escaped my attention." She opened her mouth to continue the argument but abruptly closed it again. She exhaled, briskly and glanced to the door of Jason's room, absently tapping her fingers against the bed beside her. Curiously, with a hint of apprehension, Jason followed her moves.
"I need to get out of here," he pressed, sensing her thought-process. "I've got things to do and lying in this bed is driving me crazy. Please. I never did well just being still." He watched her raise one eyebrow in silent agreement with his assessment.
"We shall see. There is a small trunk that I have left by the door, Jason containing some items I would like your opinion on." She indicated the wooden box with a nod of her head then looked back to her son. "Bring it over here for me, please and we can at least discuss those matters, since you are now awake. We shall address your immediate future afterwards."
Eagerly, Jason nodded, glad to have something to do. Now that he had her approval, he resumed his efforts to sit up properly and eased his legs over the edge of the bed. She was easier to persuade than he'd first assumed – a hell of a lot easier than Hercules or Pythagoras would have been at any rate. Before he could move away, his mother moved to the balcony doors to retrieve his discarded tunic which she had just spied by the window. She handed it to him in a silent command and with a smile and a small shake of his head Jason complied and slipped it on. Then, his mother watching with a casual air, Jason stood, quickly countering the immediate wobble in his legs from lack of use. He crossed the room and found the wooden box where his mother said it would be. It was long and relatively narrow but when Jason picked it up, he found it heavier than he expected. What did she want his opinion on? Statues to go in the entrance hall?
He was halfway back to the bed when he noticed the way his head was suddenly heavier to hold up than moments earlier. But it was his chest that began to concern him, just a little. Jason paused, head down as he breathed in, feeling a tightening in his chest and a distinct shortness of breath. He tried to take a deep breath, only to find that his lungs felt as though they were already filled. Jason felt sweat break out on his brow and he looked to the bed where his mother still sat, watching him. He gritted his teeth and scowled – he'd be damned before he didn't make it back. So, one foot in front of the other, Jason pushed through the tightness in his chest, the shortness of breath and the way his head swam until he felt the firmness of the bed-frame against his knees. With a quiet sigh of relief he released the wooden box that he had been gripping with white knuckles and let it drop onto the bed. He didn't notice his mother's hand on his arm, guiding him to sit but once he was off his feet, Jason's head flopped down to his chest as he tried to stop the world from spinning.
A hand gently titled his head back up and warm fingers rubbed light circles on his back. He felt his mother carefully pull back on his shoulders until he was leaning up against her. Too tired to complain, Jason closed his eyes. "In and out, Jason," Pasiphae quietly coached. "Breathe in deep…then release it. The air will come, I promise you." Sluggishly, Jason did as she said, realising only some time afterwards that she had been mimicking the movements along with him, allowing him to breathe alongside her. The queen's fingers rested lightly on his chest.
"Your heart is beating unevenly," she remarked casually. "Just lie back against me and be still until it steadies." Awash with sudden fatigue, Jason did not reply but dropped his head down against her shoulder. A moment later, he felt her fingers raking softly through his hair, intermittently brushing the damp curls from his forehead. He unconsciously nestled into her touch soaking up the security she offered.
Time passed and mother and son sat together on the bed, neither speaking. Eventually, Jason felt stronger or at least less drowsy and he lifted his head from his mother's shoulder, relieved when the room did not spin in response. He was breathing normally now though Jason couldn't recall when that had happened. When he started to move away from his mother's careful hold, he felt her reflexively shift until they were once again, facing each other. "That wasn't fair," Jason mumbled, eyes not able to meet hers for long.
"Mmm?" Her tone was deceptively light and innocent.
"I'd been in bed a while up till then. The first time up is always going to be tricky. But that's why I need to get up as soon as possible – little steps, you know? Start training my body back up." If Jason could have seen the pale shade of his skin or the way his eyes had dulled or the way his tunic still hung from his shoulders like a sack, he would perhaps not have been so adamant. As it was, Pasiphae did not reply immediately. She looked at him appraisingly and it made her son squirm. And then, without a word of warning, she rose and went to the door and for a moment, Jason started. Was she leaving? Had he pushed too far? Offended her? Driven her away so that she washed her hands of his pigheadedness? He bit his bottom lip as he watched her go. Why did he have to be like this?
Oblivious to her son's thoughts, Pasiphae opened the door and stepped outside. Jason's stomach clenched, painfully. He could hear her low, sharp voice conversing with the servant whose job it now was to wait outside his room, during his convalescence. Despite his fear that she was leaving him, Jason found himself surprised to hear the hardness and the aloofness in her voice once more as she spoke to the serving girl. He'd forgotten that was his mother's voice, it had been so long since he'd heard it. A startling notion crept into his head: perhaps that was the queen's voice and his mother had a different one just for him?
Jarring him out of his thoughts, his mother suddenly stepped back into the room and closed the door. Jason tried not to show his relief. She walked back to his bed and pulled up a chair from his table, seating herself next to him. Then she tapped the pillows at the head of his bed and looked at him, meaningfully. With a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes, Jason reluctantly obeyed the unspoken command and shuffled until he was sitting back against the wall, pillows behind him and his legs stretched out on the bed. He wouldn't lie down though, Jason decided, firmly. Pasiphae made no comment on this. Instead, she promptly placed the box on the floor and then rearranged the bedcovers until they covered his legs, tucking them in around his waist. Jason frowned as he felt the material encase him, trapping him to the bed. Pasiphae fussed for a moment with the box on the floor and with a discreet hand tucked behind one leg, Jason began to inch the blanket closer and closer towards him, gradually freeing his feet from the shroud.
A sharp smack to the back of his hand however, brought him up short and he looked up to see Pasiphae glaring at him. With a guilty glance down to the bed, Jason ceased his efforts and allowed his mother to tug the blanket back into place. "Now then," she announced, briskly, "Your shortness of breath and the dizziness that you tried to conceal are both the lingering effects of the venom. And yes, of course they will pass and you will regain your strength. This will not happen through exercise but through bed-rest and, if necessary another tonic." Jason scowled, heavily. His mother pretended not to notice. "However, you are right in that you must build your body back up." Her eyes fixed on him, almost accusingly. "When did you last eat? I have spoken to the kitchens and your dinner tray was returned last night, un-touched."
Jason felt his face flush and his pulse quicken. His fingers immediately began to twist into the sheets by his side. Licking his dry lips, he answered, "I wasn't feeling too well last night – I didn't feel like eating." Jason kept his gaze down on the blankets and Pasiphae took a moment to consider his answer. Even if he had not been feeling the effects of the bite, he may well have been too anxious to have eaten. She should have checked on him earlier. The queen nodded.
"I can understand that. But that does not answer my question. When did you last eat?" Jason shrugged, helplessly.
"Breakfast. Yesterday. Or maybe lunch?"
Pasiphae shook her head. "You were travelling during lunch and you left shortly after speaking with me, to go into the city for your work."
Jason felt annoyance quickly rise in him at the continued interrogation. "I got something to eat in the city, alright?" he insisted, his voice growing sharper. "It's a crazy concept but they do sell food to members of the public."
Pasiphae's countenance immediately darkened and one hand briefly gripped his chin. Jason couldn't help but look at her as she quietly smouldered. The queen was back. No – not the queen exactly but the more dangerous face of his mother. The one that occasionally had people killed. "Perhaps you and I," she said quietly, "need to better understand each other?" Jason shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he apologised, genuinely surprised at how easily he had lost his temper. "I don't know why I snapped like that. I suppose, maybe I'm not quite feeling myself yet." He felt her stare. "I'm sorry," he repeated. Fortunately, Jason felt the mood begin to lighten though a little hardness remained in the set of her mouth.
"No matter," she dismissed. "Whenever it last was, it is clear your body needs more." Jason immediately felt his face flush as his eyes widened in surprise. His body was his business – certainly not his mother's. That she had obviously been prying while he had been sleeping, leaping to the wrong conclusions, made his blood start to boil. Once more, Jason was surprised by the sudden surge of hostility that he felt towards Pasiphae. But Jason had no desire to begin a fight between them and certainly not when he needed her on-side. So, trying very hard to keep the resentment out of his eyes, he nodded as casually as possible. At that moment there was a knock at his door and despite it being his room, it was still Pasiphae who called out the answer. When the door opened, the girl returned, a tray of food in her arms and seeing this, Jason tried not to grimace. He had been fed the most foul-tasting tonics over the last day and he still stank of garlic, mustard and God-knows what else. The very last thing he wanted to do now was do anything else that might turn his stomach. It was starting to feel like he'd gone a round on a roller-coaster as it was.
But Pasiphae placed the tray of soup, breads and fruit onto his lap and silently held out the spoon to him. It was some kind of fish soup, Jason surmised: fish and garlic. As if he wasn't already starting to smell like Hercules! Jason closed his eyes as the smell made his insides churn, the memory of retching his guts up last night still painfully fresh for him. Still, he needed to appear compliant if she was going to give him some space over the coming hours. If she suspected he was being difficult, Jason was certain she'd have him watched like a hawk to make sure he complied with her instructions. Hell, he wouldn't put it past her to have a guard placed outside his door. And one in his room. So, attempting an ingratiating smile for her, Jason took the spoon and began to eat. The more he ate, frustratingly, the more food seemed to appear on his tray but his mother sat and watched him, carefully.
Finally, it appeared she was happy that Jason was doing as he was told. She patted his leg and Jason immediately put down the spoon. Raising an eyebrow, she nearly smirked. "That was not a signal to stop, Jason." She watched him quickly flush and resume his meal. "But I shall leave you now. I must see to the needs of our guests and that your step-father is not is not tearing out what little of his hair remains." Pasiphae glanced down to the box and picked it up and Jason paused again.
"What's in there?" he wondered curiously. "You said you wanted my opinion on something?" Pasiphae looked thoughtful, hesitating a moment as she regarded him carefully. Jason could see his mother weighing something up in her mind.
"It can wait," she announced with firm resolve, moving the box away from his suddenly roaming fingers. "You have more important matters to attend to at the moment." Now Jason's interest was really piqued. There was no surer way to gain his attention than to dangle a mystery in-front of him and then take it away again before he knew what it was. His disappointment and his opposition were evident in his wide, imploring eyes and the slight downward turn of each side of his mouth. But before he could add his voice to his facial expressions, Pasiphae had already risen, taking the box well out of his reach. "No," she reiterated as she smiled at his annoyance. "Now finish your meal. I shall send the girl back for the tray within the hour and I do not expect there to be anything left on it besides empty bowls and plates." Meekly, Jason nodded, eyes down at the meal in question. Then Pasiphae ran a hand across his face, feeling her son smile against her palm. "Rest well, Jason. Who knows? If you gather your strength now and eat well, you may yet be declared fit enough to join us for the Games after breakfast."
When Pasiphae had left, Jason sat back against the pillows and sighed, pushing the tray away from him. His mother meant well – she really did and he had never imagined in a million years that he would have a mother to fuss over him like this. Especially a woman as formidable as Pasiphae. It was…nice. It was just incredibly bad timing. Breakfast tomorrow would be too late. Pythagoras would be waiting at dawn and Jason knew that guards would patrol the borders of the city that morning as part of the added security for the Games. He gave a short, bitter laugh. With so many strangers and visitors to the city, that had partly come from his own suggestion. But, of one thing Jason was now certain, neither Minos nor Pasiphae would let him go when he most needed to and though he hated to betray his mother's trust, Jason couldn't see a way around it.
The fallen oak giant, on which Pythagoras now climbed, had come down in the Great Storm, many years ago now. He had been a child but he remembered the howling winds, the shaking walls and the way his mother had kept him and his brother huddled together in the same room, for comfort. It had once towered into the sky – some said, straight to the Gods – but now it spanned the earth, its leafless boughs on the ground and its wide trunk rising gradually into the air, supported by the tangle of thick roots and earth that had been dragged up with it and had now become the habitat of fauna and creatures of its own. It was also a remarkably useful device for a look-out post.
From mid-way up the trunk, the young blonde looked down to where Myrtle waited, her cloak drawn up over her head. The day was dawning and the night's dark blues had given way to pale greys and the promise of colour. "Almost there," he called down to her and could just about make out her nod, imagining he could see the encouraging smile that no-doubt accompanied it. Travelling without his friends had marginally concerned Pythagoras at first, but the longer he and Myrtle travelled and the longer they passed through the forest without incident, the more confidence he gained. Take this climb, for instance. If his friends had been watching (assuming Hercules would not have wrestled him off the tree the moment he had announced his intention to climb it, promptly sending Jason up the tree instead) they would have been cringing with every shaky step he took, waiting for him to slip and fall. And he would have by now. Spectacularly and probably getting himself hooked onto one of the branches as he descended. But as only Myrtle watched him, without any presupposition that he would fall, he did not.
Reaching the summit, Pythagoras stared out at the approaching edge of the forest, the sleeping city of Atlantis about to wake beneath them. There was no sign of Jason yet but Pythagoras knew he would be there. This was the path that Jason routinely took to and from the silver mines and he would expect Pythagoras to make the same journey. He would be there – he had promised and Pythagoras had never known Jason to break a promise. Well, except the one about killing his mother but all things considered, that was probably for the best. Turning, he climbed back down the tree, jumping the last foot.
"I can't see Jason yet but I know he'll be here." Pythagoras looked kindly at his charge. "Do you need to rest before we go on?" They had been travelling most of the night, stopping at fairly regular intervals for rest and refreshment. Considering she had not had much time to prepare for her journey and had left the colony with some secrecy so that Aeson had not seen her, Pythagoras was quietly amazed at how much food and drink and other necessities she had managed to gather. Most of which she had persistently thrust upon him as if he would not have made it another mile unless she had plied him with another hunk of bread and wedge of cheese. He was honestly beginning to feel uncomfortably full, despite his travelling.
Myrtle chuckled softly and shook her head. "My young friend, I am not so old yet that I cannot walk to the forest's edge when it is almost under our noses."
Pythagoras smiled, bashfully. "Sorry."
"And do stop apologising so often. You have nothing to be sorry for."
"Sorry. I mean…yes. Sorry." He winced and then sighed as the old woman laughed more openly now, her eyes twinkling. Eventually, Pythagoras began to laugh, too. "Old habits," he remarked, wryly. Then he held out one arm to her. "Well then, shall we?"
They walked together the last half a mile, Pythagoras gently supporting Myrtle along the path, talking idle talk and as they walked, the sun began to rise. When they arrived at the rendezvous point where the border of trees separated the forest from the gentle grassy hill that led down to the meadows surrounding the city, dawn had blossomed, warm and red. Pythagoras drew them to a halt and peered out through the tree-line. Being slightly higher than the surrounding terrain afforded him a small advantage but looking down the grassy slope, his forehead creased into a worried frown: Jason was not to be seen. He was neither climbing the hill nor approaching through the meadow. Trying not to appear too concerned, Pythagoras turned back to his companion.
"He's not here." He watched as the woman just nodded, patiently. "But I'm sure he won't be long. Jason doesn't let people down."
"I know. Do not worry, lad." She patted his arm, comfortingly.
This is ridiculous, Pythagoras thought: she's meant to be under my protection and she's the one comforting me! A sudden sound from the hill top made him freeze. A shuffling on the grass, leaves disturbed, bracken crunching. He held his breath, his fingers automatically feeling the handle of the sword under his cloak that he had just remembered to bring before leaving the house. It could have been an animal. Moments later, the unmistakable sound of human footsteps became clear. Not only clear, but louder as they approached nearer and nearer to where they huddled by the trees. Could it be Jason? Pythagoras couldn't be certain. Silently, he turned to Myrtle, a finger held to his lips. His expressive eyes told of the need for caution, but not panic. Gesturing deeper into the forest, Myrtle understood his meaning and nodded. She made sure her cloak covered her deformity and quietly drew back until she stood, half hidden behind a tree, head bowed and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.
The footsteps drew steadily nearer until they stopped, right beside Pythagoras' position. There was very little chance that he had not been seen and so, with a deep breath and a quick prayer to the Gods, Pythagoras looked out and hoped to see Jason. It wasn't Jason. An Atlantian guard, in full armour and impressive weaponry stood, watching him with hard, suspicious eyes. Thoughts of his own sword quickly died away. Fighting highly trained palace guards was not a task he immediately took to unless he had no other option. But there was still a chance that a clever mind could get them both out of this.
"You there!" The guard was short on words but, Pythagoras assumed, when you were long on swords, it didn't matter. Putting on his best, least wobbly smile, Pythagoras stepped from the trees, onto the hill.
"Ah, hello," he greeted with an air of casual joviality. "Lovely morning, isn't it?" The guard narrowed his eyes, ignoring the greeting. Instead he took a step closer until he was nearly chest to chest with Pythagoras, causing the young man to retreat a couple of steps back into the forest. Silently, Pythagoras cursed. He had been very much hoping that by stepping out of the forest, he might lead the guard with him and away from Myrtle. But it was not to be.
"What are you doing out here?" The guard examined him closely, no doubt seeing the beads of sweat appear on the mathematician's brow. The man's keen eyes roamed the forest – he appeared to have been bred on suspicion. Suddenly, his gaze stopped and his face hardened. He pointed to the cloaked figure that was currently half hidden behind one of the trees.
"You!" he barked. "Come out here. Why are you hiding?"
"Hiding?" Pythagoras quickly exclaimed with a laugh, waving off the guard's concern. "We are not hiding. My companion and I are really just passing through and we shall be on our way and out of your hair without delay if you would just be so kind as to let us pass?" He took a step backwards but stopped abruptly with a startled yelp as a sword was immediately held at his throat.
"Ah yes," he laughed, desperately, trying to back away from the blade. "A sword." He swallowed as the guard's eyes darted dangerously between Pythagoras and his companion. "And a very fine sword. Tell me, do you spend a lot of time polishing it?" Even as he said it, Pythagoras winced. The man growled at the back of his throat. "That is to say…" The lad gave a tiny gulp, finishing in barely a whisper, "it's very shiny." Inwardly, the young man cringed: Yes, Pythagoras – thank the Gods your quick and clever mind was here to get you both out of this.
The guard had apparently been born without a sociable bone in his body. Still alternating his gaze between the pair of them, he raised his sword a little higher. "What brings you and your companion out so early to this place?"
Pythagoras thought in a panic, desperate that he should not engage Myrtle directly. But the more the guard stared at her, the less likely that seemed to be. "We were gathering…mushrooms," he quickly announced. "For breakfast. And flowers." He swallowed. "For the table. Not to eat. That would be silly. Unless, you were an animal of some kind. You see, some animals will eat only plants, while some eat only meat and others, like us, can eat both. It depends what kind of teeth you have. Do you like mushrooms? Or flowers?" He tried to smile again but there was no concealing the panic on his face.
The sword still trained at him, the guard stepped around Pythagoras, one look telling him to stay where he was. He moved steadily towards the cloaked and hooded figure and as he moved closer to her, the sword gradually moved further and further away from Pythagoras' chest. With a cold wash of dread, Pythagoras saw he was going for her hood. If he removed her hood, Myrtle would be exposed as a leper for certain – there was no disguising the nature of her affliction.
"You," the man growled. "Remove your hood and step forward. Your skinny companion talks a lot but I still don't know who you are." His hackles were only raised further when his quarry turned to face him and with the tip of his sword, the man reached out and hooked the blade beneath the edge of the hood. If she moved suddenly now, he would slice a rent through her forehead. From behind the guard, Pythagoras held his breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and with shaking hands, drew his sword. Myrtle was in his charge and whatever happened, however the guard reacted – whether it was with violence or simply to arrest them – Pythagoras had sworn to protect her. No matter what the cost.
And so, as the guard's sword raised higher, so did Pythagoras', aimed straight at the man's back. At last the hood fell back to the neck and with a sinking heart and a sickening feeling in his bones, Pythagoras heard the man's startled gasp.
Right – that's it for now but Chapter 12 is already underway. I really hope you've enjoyed the read so far.
