A/N And here we go with chapter 7! Slightly later than intended but I'm afraid that real life has been intruding somewhat lately and time and inspiration have been in short supply as a result. Thank you to everyone that is still reading and especial thanks to everyone that is still reviewing... it still means a lot to me that you take the time and trouble to jot down a few words and it does encourage me in my writing.
As ever I own nothing although I rather wish I did since I wouldn't have been as daft as the BBC and cancelled Atlantis! Please let me know what you think of the chapter.
For the first time in days Pasiphae found herself both awake and completely alone. Now that she was finally able to keep her eyes open for more than a few minutes it seemed that her husband and companions were conspiring to ensure that there was someone to hand at all times to cater to her every whim or desire and keep her tethered to this dratted bed. The only person who she had not been able to have any time alone with was her son. It felt as though Jason was avoiding her; a thought which made Pasiphae uneasy. Their relationship had apparently been progressing so well. What could be making him draw back now?
Perhaps it was not a matter of him drawing back though; perhaps it was simply a matter of timing. There had been precious little time since Jason had joined them at the cave near the sacred grove at Dodona for them to speak to one another. Thanks to her husband she was now aware that Jason had been injured in the escape from the Temple. The thought made her frown. It should not have been Minos telling her that; it should have been Jason himself. She would have to speak firmly to him about the matter as soon as she had leisure. If the silly boy was going to let himself get hurt then it was her right as his mother to know about it and his duty as her son to tell her.
Had her own health been a little better she would have sought Jason out days ago to discuss the matter fully with him and to ensure that he was well aware that hiding injuries from her was not something that Pasiphae would tolerate. She also owed him a discussion about his activities on the night before the city fell; a discussion that was by now long overdue. Her injury, however, had incapacitated her far more than she was comfortable with.
Still, she was awake now and feeling relatively alright – all things considered. Pythagoras had mentioned during his examination earlier that perhaps she might be well enough to begin to sit up and get out of bed and as far as Pasiphae was concerned there was no time like the present.
Levering herself into a sitting position took far more effort than Pasiphae was expecting. She was nothing if not persistent, however, and was not about to let a little thing like illness or injury stop her from doing exactly what she wanted. Resolutely ignoring the stab of pain from the arrow wound in her abdomen – the tender flesh pulling tightly – she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and paused for a moment to regain her equilibrium.
"I'm not really sure you should be doing that." The amused voice made her turn to face her son.
Jason was leaning lightly against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes dancing with laughter.
Pasiphae frowned. What was so funny about her getting out of bed? Before she could give voice to her thoughts, however, the young man was across the room and sitting down alongside her.
"You know if I got out of bed like that when I wasn't supposed to everyone would have a fit," he said lightly.
"What do you mean if you got out of bed?" Pasiphae said. "I seem to recall an incident not two weeks ago when I believed you to be resting and you had in fact taken yourself off to the gardens."
"I was only getting some fresh air," Jason protested. "It didn't do me any harm." He gave his mother a lopsided smile. "The point I'm trying to make," he said, "is that we're more alike than I would have imagined."
"Yes," Pasiphae agreed.
"Is there any chance that you'll take that into consideration next time I do something that you don't like?" Jason asked hopefully.
Pasiphae smiled.
"None whatsoever," she said, unable to stop the amusement from lighting up her eyes.
Jason chuckled.
"Well you can't blame me for trying," he said brightly.
"Not that I am not pleased to spend a little time with you," Pasiphae said, "but weren't you helping Ariadne and your abominably clever friend collect more firewood?"
Jason rolled his eyes.
"Yes," he answered. "The wind started to pick up though so Pythagoras decided that it was getting too cold for me to be outside."
Pasiphae nodded absently, regarding her son appraisingly. In spite of her own ill health she had been aware that Jason was less than well when they arrived at the hunting lodge. For the first two days after their arrival he had been lightly feverish and out of sorts – nothing serious enough to keep him in bed, but still feeling poorly – and plagued by a persistent wet cough. In the couple of days that had followed he had brightened up considerably; the rest and warm comfort of the hunting lodge doing their work to help him heal. It was true that the hacking cough still bothered him, especially at night, and the rest of the party knew only too well that he was sitting up when he should have been sleeping, trying futilely to smother the coughing fits and avoid keeping anyone else awake.
Still, right at this moment Jason looked better than he had at any moment since they had reunited in the cave. He had lost the pallor of the last few days and in fact the wind had blown some colour into his cheeks, as well as ruffling his curls into wild disorder – although Pasiphae did have to admit that it would be more unusual to see her son with neat hair.
"Besides," Jason continued looking down at his hands awkwardly, "I thought… that is… we haven't had the chance to talk properly since the night the Amphigeneians got into the city." He looked back up at his mother. "I wanted to say sorry," he added quietly.
Pasiphae frowned.
"For what?" she asked sharply.
"For everything," Jason answered. "I shouldn't have run off from the Temple like I did. My only excuse is that I wasn't really thinking straight at the time; wasn't quite focussing properly… I was upset and that tends to throw me off a bit. The night when we fought the slavers I'd promised Amathea I'd protect her… had promised them all… and I couldn't see beyond that. I spoke with the King the other day and he told me what had happened after I left; how upset you'd been," he swallowed hard and looked his mother in the eyes. "I'm sorry. I never meant to worry anyone. I'll try not to do it again."
Pasiphae looked hard at him with raised eyebrows, taking in how sincere the boy looked.
"Apology accepted," she said briskly. "But see that it does not happen again. You were instructed to remain within the Temple and that is where you should have stayed. I will not accept wilful disobedience. We will let the matter pass on this occasion but do not presume to try my patience again." Pasiphae looked at Jason again and her eyes softened. "I do not mean to seem harsh," she added more gently. "I do not like to be frightened and you did frighten me. I could not help but imagine what might happen. You do not know what it is like to be a parent who has lost their child; to know that they have been taken from you forever. I have lived through that desolation once and I have no wish to do so again."
"I know what it is like to search for someone that you love and not find them," Jason answered earnestly. "To believe that you are never going to see them again."
"Yes," Pasiphae said softly. "I suppose you would know that." She shook herself. "Enough of this," she proclaimed. "I have no desire to become emotional." She managed to make the word sound distasteful. "I am going to get up and sit over there," she stated, pointing towards the window where bright sunshine was streaming in. "I wish to see the daylight. I have been too long in the dark."
Jason shifted uneasily.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," he said quietly. "I don't think that Pythagoras would be too happy with you getting out of bed."
"I am Queen of Atlantis," Pasiphae snapped. "I am not about to allow my actions to be dictated by a peasant, no matter how clever or how talented a healer he might be. Besides which your friend informed me this morning that he believed I was well enough to begin to get up."
"I'm fairly certain he didn't mean for you to get up when you were on your own though," Jason objected.
"But I am not on my own," Pasiphae said sharply. "You are with me."
Jason smiled wryly.
"I'm not altogether sure that I count at the moment," he answered.
"Because you are injured you mean?" Pasiphae said. She shot another hard look at Jason. "That is something else which we need to discuss. I should not have had to learn from someone else that my son was hurt."
Jason sighed.
"I hardly think the King is an outsider," he pointed out. "You are married to him… but you're right. I should have told you myself… I meant to tell you but with everything that's happened time got away from me a bit."
"I will not tolerate you concealing injuries from me," Pasiphae snapped, "and I have still not been told precisely how you have managed to damage yourself. Minos merely informed me that you had picked up a minor injury that was being treated and that you would explain fully."
"I wasn't deliberately concealing anything," Jason protested quietly. He sighed again. "I re-broke the ribs that I'd already damaged," he admitted. "It was in the fight at the Temple. One of the Amphigeneian soldiers got a pretty good kick in. The King is right. It's not serious… just a bit painful. I was going to tell you but when I got to the cave everyone was telling me how worried you'd been and how you needed to concentrate on your own recovery. I was really tired when we got there and aching and I suppose I didn't think things through. All I really wanted to do that night was to sleep. I didn't want to worry you any more than you already were. I sort of thought that it would be better if I let Pythagoras fix me up a bit before I told you… so that I could tell you that I had been hurt but that I was getting better already. Only time sort of got away from us and I never got the chance to talk to you on my own… to explain everything that had been going on."
"I accept that perhaps you did not inform me that you were hurt out of some misguided desire to protect me," Pasiphae said. "But you would do well to remember that I am your mother and I had a right to know the truth."
Jason bristled. Don't bite back, he sternly told himself; don't lose your temper. It irritated him though. After all it was his body and no-one else's. Why couldn't Pasiphae understand that he was a fully grown man with the right to privacy? Yes she was his mother but that didn't give her the right to know every little thing about him or to be aggrieved if he chose not to tell her something. Not that he had kept this from her deliberately; it was more an omission through circumstance than a deliberate choice.
"You think I am being unreasonable," Pasiphae stated, watching the play of emotions across her son's face.
"No," Jason answered shortly.
Pasiphae snorted.
"You are not a good liar," she said.
"So I've been told," Jason responded.
"What is it that you find so distasteful in what I am saying?" the Queen demanded.
Jason sighed.
"You do know that I'm an adult don't you?" he asked.
"I am only too aware of exactly how old you are," Pasiphae bit back. "Although I scarcely think that you act your age most of the time." Her eyes softened and grew distant. "It is not easy," she admitted. "In my mind you are the child that I lost; a boy scarcely more than a baby. It is hard to reconcile the child that I knew with the man that you are."
"I do understand," Jason answered. "I know that I'm not the child you remember… that I'm not exactly who you want me to be… and I know that it must be hard for you to get used to me being the way I am now. I know that you probably wish you could go back in time… that you want the chance to make up for a bit of what you missed out on… that you haven't really had chance to get used to the idea that I'm an adult… but the fact is that I am… and that means I get to make my own decisions and that if I don't tell you something then that's my choice…"
"Jason," Pasiphae began, her eyes flinty once more.
"The truth is that neither one of us can turn the clock back," Jason carried on as though she hadn't spoken. "I can't be the little boy that you want me to be and you can't be the mother that I needed growing up. I've been on my own for too long… it's been years since I was answerable to anyone but myself; since I had anyone trying to tell me what to do. The truth is that I don't need you to mother me or tell me what to do. I don't need you to be my mother… but I do want you to be."
Pasiphae looked down at her lap for a moment.
"You can have no idea how it feels to hear you say that you want me to be your mother," she said honestly. "It is something that I never dared believe would be possible… and you are wrong if you believe that you are not the son that I want. In many ways we are very similar… perhaps too much so. I know that you are no longer a child but you are still my child; my only child; my blood. I look at you and I see so much of myself. Do you not feel it? The bond that binds us. We are tethered Jason. It is a cord that can never be broken. The Gods have brought us together; have given you back to me. Can you not see that it is only natural that I should be concerned for your wellbeing?"
"I can," Jason responded softly, "but I still think that there need to be some ground rules between us."
"Ground rules?" Pasiphae asked with a frown, uncertain of his meaning.
"Yes," her son said. "I know you think that it's my duty to do whatever you tell me, but I'm not always going to blindly follow orders. I'm not Heptarian. If we're going to have any sort of relationship… and believe me I do want to… then we need some sort of understanding between us that we can both stick to. Otherwise this just won't work."
"I only have your best interests at heart," Pasiphae protested.
"I know you believe that," Jason said. "But there are going to be times when actually you don't know what's best for me… when the only person who can decide what I should do is me."
"I suspect we will disagree on this subject many times," Pasiphae said.
"Yes," Jason answered. "I've been told that I'm stubborn, wilful, outspoken and too independent for my own good."
Pasiphae allowed a small ripple of amusement to touch her features, quirking the corners of her mouth into a faint smile of agreement.
"I've also been described as pig-headed and nothing but trouble more times that I really care to think about," Jason went on, "but you're not so easy to get on with either. You're imperious, just as stubborn as I am and used to getting your own way in all things. I think it's almost a given that we'll butt heads on multiple occasions."
"Perhaps so," Pasiphae agreed. She hesitated for a moment. "I accept that there will be times when you will feel strongly about something and will believe that you have the right to make your own choices. Certainly you must choose your own path in life… although I hope you will allow that others might seek to guide you for your own good. There will also be times, however, when you will be expected to follow an instruction and as I have said I will not tolerate wilful disobedience… especially when there seems to be little reason for that disobedience beyond simple stubbornness."
"And if I disagree?"
"Then there would indeed be a problem. I would not advise refusing a direct order Jason… whether it is myself or the King who gives it. You may find that it would have consequences you did not intend." Pasiphae's face had once more hardened.
Silence stretched over the room that neither mother nor son quite knew how to break. Pasiphae shook herself with some irritation. This was not the conversation she had intended to have with Jason. Whilst she had intended that he should understand that she was not to be trifled with, she did not mean for it to descend into an argument or that it should drive any sort of wedge between them.
"Come," she said, slowly and painfully pushing herself up from the bed. "I do not wish to argue. Help me to the window. I require some fresh air."
Even leaning on her son's arm the journey across the room was far more taxing than Pasiphae had imagined. Every step caused pain as the wound in her stomach throbbed and pulled; her muscles stiff and weakened through days of disuse. Pasiphae refused to give in to the weakness in her body, however; refused to allow any suffering to register on her face. She had never shown weakness before and she would not start now.
Alongside her she felt rather than heard her son snort faintly as he adjusted his grip on her, tightening his grasp on her waist to allow her to lean a little more heavily on him, although he did not comment. It was nice, Pasiphae decided, to have a strong arm to lean on, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't let her fall and knowing somehow that he would not see her need as weakness.
As they reached the window and the low cupboard below it, the top set at just the right height for sitting on, Pasiphae gave a mental sigh of relief. With infinite care Jason lowered her to sit on the cupboard before trotting back across the room to fetch a blanket and pillows, having decided, it seemed, that he needed to do something to make his mother more comfortable. Pasiphae watched him go with an affectionate smile, touched by his unexpected concern; his thoughtfulness. Yet why should it be unexpected? She had seen the way he and his friends acted around one another; had borne witness to the concern that all three of them showed for each other's wellbeing. Why should it be such a leap to think that that same concern might be extended to her by her own son? She was not such a monster was she that the very thought of her child caring for her was alien?
You know what you are, a hard cynical voice murmured within her own head. You know what you have done and it is only a matter of time until he realises it too.
I did what I had to to survive, the other part of her protested.
Do you really think Jason will ever be able to forgive you for all you have done? the cynical voice went on. He knows that you tried to kill him. He knows that you tried to kill his beloved Ariadne. He will never fully forgive you. Why would you even imagine that he might truly care? He will deceive you in the end; will betray you like all other men.
Jason would not do that, the mother in her countered. He is not like that.
All people are like that, the cynical voice retorted cruelly. You know that in the end all anyone seeks is satisfaction and that the only true satisfaction is to be found through the pursuit of power. Jason will learn that soon enough and when he does he will be no better than other men.
I will not allow that to happen, the mother in Pasiphae proclaimed. He is too naïve but he is good and kind and loyal. I will not allow him to be corrupted by power.
As you were? The cynical voice sounded amused. It also sounded remarkably like Pasiphae's former husband – a thought which made her shudder. Do you really think you can prevent it? He shares your blood; your weakness. The darkness is in him waiting to be awoken. When the time comes you will not be able to prevent him giving himself over to it in the same way that you did.
I will find a way, Pasiphae decided. I will not allow him to lose himself.
She was shaken from her reveries by the feel of a stiff blanket being firmly tucked in around her legs. If Jason's hands were slightly rougher than they perhaps should have been (palms roughened and callused through manual labour and sword usage) Pasiphae barely registered it; noting only the gentle expression in his eyes and the look of deep concentration as he tried to make her as comfortable as possible.
"Thank you," she murmured but was unable to hide a wince as she leant forwards to allow him to place a pillow at her back.
Jason bit his lip, spotting the little flinch.
"I'm sorry," he apologised. "I'm afraid I'm not a skilled nurse."
"Do not concern yourself," Pasiphae answered. "I am not at present in any great discomfort."
She turned and looked out of the window, relishing the feel of the warm winter sun on her upturned face. Jason had wandered off to the far side of the room once more, busying himself with something near the fire. Presently he returned with two cups in his hands and, sitting down at the opposite end of the low cupboard from his mother, offered her one of the cups.
"Warm spiced wine," he said in answer to her quizzical look. "Pythagoras prepared a pan earlier and left it on the side to be warmed up when it was wanted."
Pasiphae took the cup with a faint frown.
"How is it that we come to have wine?" she asked.
Jason grinned.
"We hid a couple of flagons last time we visited," he admitted. "Otherwise Hercules would have drunk them on the spot. Pythagoras thought we might need them at some point if the weather became bad while we were hunting and we needed warming up."
Pasiphae took a long sip of the wine, gratified that it was not as poor quality as she would have expected given the social status of her son's friends. The heat of the liquid seemed to warm her from the inside out, leaving her feeling more mellow and amiable than usual. With a contented sigh she relaxed and allowed her eyes to drift to the view from the window once more, enjoying Jason's silent companionship.
"Pasiphae?" Jason's voice was soft and faintly hesitant as it broke the silence a few minutes later.
"Yes?" the Queen responded absently, still drinking in the view of the world outside the window.
"Are you really a witch?"
Pasiphae couldn't help the faint gasp that escaped her as she whipped her head around to face her son. Of all the questions he could have asked that one had been completely unexpected.
"That is not a word of which I am particularly fond," she answered sharply.
Jason flushed.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"And you have not," Pasiphae retorted. "But why do you ask that question?"
Jason hesitated for a moment.
"Months ago, when we were in the bull court, you and Heptarian came to watch a practice session. I can remember telling Pythagoras that it was as though your eyes burned right through me and he told me that there had long been rumours in the city that you practiced witchcraft. I had never known that such a thing was possible before but with everything that happened afterwards I presumed he must have been right. Only I could never be completely certain and I suppose I just wondered…"
"If it were true?" Pasiphae finished for him. She sighed. "I am a woman of Colchis," she said softly. "By the very nature of my birth I am a woman of power beyond the understanding of mortal men."
"Because you are touched by the Gods?"
"That is indeed a part of it. At my birth I was blessed by Hecate."
"The Goddess of witchcraft?"
"Indeed. Although Hecate is far more than simply the Goddess of witchcraft," Pasiphae answered. "In answer to your question though, in the eyes of mortal men I am indeed a witch of Colchis… although I would ask that you do not use that phrase. It is a term used by the ignorant to explain that which they do not understand. I find it distasteful and given that Minos has an antipathy towards anything he deems to be witchcraft it would be unwise to mention such a thing… But my bloodline – your bloodline – is a powerful one and contains many individuals with unique abilities. Seers and practitioners of what the uneducated call magic."
"So do you have these powers because you're from Colchis?" Jason asked.
"In part," Pasiphae answered. "Yet there are many from Colchis who do not have these abilities. Indeed there are many within my own family who are not blessed in this way... and those who have been granted abilities differ one from another."
"How so?" Jason asked.
Pasiphae smiled faintly.
"Just as one person might be more intelligent than another or stronger, so those of us who have this sort of power may be different from each other. For instance one may be able to channel the powers of nature, another might practice the more… shall we say… dark arts and a third might be exceptionally fast or agile." She levelled a serious look at her son. "I had intended that you would learn about your heritage when we had more time. It is important to me that you learn about your family; that you know your place in this world."
Jason rolled his eyes.
"Everyone keeps trying to remind me that I'm a prince of Atlantis," he said sharply. "Even if I don't really feel like one."
"Nevertheless it is true," Pasiphae retorted. "Yet you are not just the son of a king – even if Aeson is a deposed king. You are also the nephew of a king. You were born as a prince of Atlantis… but by virtue of my birth you are also a prince of Colchis… and I would have you learn about my family as well as your father's… and about the different forms of power that we wield." She favoured Jason with another serious and speculative look. "I do not believe that you have asked about this out of idle curiosity, however. What was your true purpose?"
"I told you. I was just wondering."
"Indeed? It is a very specific subject for you to be wondering about."
Jason looked away from Pasiphae for a moment.
"Before Anaxandros took the city… the night before I met the King's advisors for the first time… I met with the Oracle," he admitted. "She told me that I was touched by the Gods as you are. She told me that it meant that I'd been blessed by the Gods when I was born… but I still don't really know what that means for me…I wasn't quite clear whether it was something that I'd inherited off you and I suppose I thought that if I understood a bit more about what being touched by the Gods meant for you…"
"You would understand what it would mean for you?" Pasiphae concluded. She sighed affectionately and stroked the young man's hand. "What is means is that you are very special Jason," she said softly. "You are not like other men; not like mere mortal men. You are already aware, I think, that there are things that you can do that others cannot and that certain curses do not affect you; that certain forms of magic do not touch you in the way that they would touch another."
"Like being able to look at a gorgon and not be turned to stone?" Jason asked.
Pasiphae frowned.
"How have you come into contact with a gorgon?" she demanded. Then she held up one hand, palm towards him. "Actually I do not believe that I wish to know." She glared at her son. "You will, however, endeavour to avoid such contacts in the future. You may be impervious to the gorgon's gaze but it is not an area in which I would suggest you should experiment."
Jason looked away again.
"I have dreams sometimes," he blurted suddenly.
"What sort of dreams?" Pasiphae asked kindly. She was fairly certain that she had been right in her suspicions about her son's awakening abilities and knew only too well that he would need her to be gentle; that a little patience with him now might pay dividends in the long run.
"Odd dreams," Jason answered softly. "Strange images. I see the people and the places that I know but the situations aren't like anything I've seen… and sometimes it feels like those dreams are coming true later. Something will happen and it's as though I've seen it before; as though I've dreamt about it." He shook himself suddenly. "I'm being ridiculous," he muttered. "It sounds childish now that I'm thinking about it. Just forget I said anything."
"Jason," Pasiphae began.
The door banged open suddenly, startling them both. Pasiphae watched Jason's face change – his defensive walls slamming back up into place – and mentally cursed in frustration. She had been so close to getting him to open up before the interruption; so close to the point where she could, with the assistance of the Oracle, begin to reconcile him to his abilities and teach him to control them before they began to control him. The intrusion of another person was therefore unwelcome.
It was doubly unwelcome when she discovered it was Hercules who had interrupted them. The burly wrestler came barrelling into the room with a small collection of pheasants hanging from one meaty fist. He dropped them down onto the table and turned towards the fire with a distinct shiver, apparently completely oblivious to the death glare Pasiphae was sending in his direction.
"It's getting cold out there," he noted with his hands outstretched towards the blaze.
"Jason," Pasiphae tried again, keeping her voice pitched low so that Hercules couldn't hear what she was saying.
"I was being silly," Jason murmured. "Forget it." He pushed himself up from his seat and caught hold of his mother's hand briefly, before heading over towards the fire. Catching up his cloak, he settled it around his shoulders.
Hercules blinked at him, finally catching the atmosphere in the room.
"I'm not interrupting anything am I?" he asked.
"No," Jason answered. "We were just talking. I'll…erm… just go and check where Pythagoras has got to with the firewood. See if we can get it a bit warmer in here for everyone coming in."
Without another word he slipped out through the door, already withdrawing into himself, apparently deep in thought.
Pasiphae turned stiffly and glared out of the window, completely ignoring the presence of the burly wrestler in the room.
"Was it something I said?" Hercules asked incredulously, looking at the Queen's rigid posture then turning to stare at the door his friend had just stalked out of. In the suddenly awkward silence he shrugged and turned back to his pheasants, preparing to pluck them and get them ready for the pot and the evening meal.
The journey to Pagenia had been a hard one even with the horses that Nisos had managed to acquire from his brother. He had ridden back to the hunting lodge several days ago now towing three horses behind him. That had at least allowed the King, Queen and Princess to be mounted when they moved on. The fourth horse had by mutual agreement gone to the Oracle; although she had hidden reserves of strength her importance to Atlantis meant that it was inconceivable that she should not be spared as much hardship as possible.
The arrival of Asopus the next morning, returning from Ephitake with confirmation of the garrison's loyalty and the news that they would be coming to Pagenia as quickly as they could manage, had been welcome – especially as it had added an extra horse to the group. They had lingered at the hunting lodge for another two days, hoping both to allow the Queen to gain additional strength and for the other messengers to re-join them. Eventually, though, Dion had deemed it too risky to wait any longer and they had been forced to prepare to leave.
Minos frowned as he thought about the scene that had followed. His every instinct had demanded that the fifth horse be given to his stepson. The boy was a prince and his rank called for no less. In addition Jason might be rapidly recovering from the brief illness that had troubled him on their arrival at the hunting lodge and might no longer appear to be in constant nagging pain from the broken ribs, but the King deemed it wisest not to tempt fate. Here though he had been thwarted by Jason's own obstinacy. The lad simply would not accept that his parentage afforded him any privilege and had insisted that the remaining members of the party should take turns at riding the remaining horse to allow them all a rest from time to time.
Minos' frown deepened. Much as he applauded his stepson's sense of duty towards his companions he was not used to having his orders refused or his word questioned. Fond as he was becoming of the lad, Jason's habit of speaking his mind at odd moments was one which must be nipped in the bud as soon as the King had the opportunity and time to address it. Minos was only glad that Pasiphae had been resting in preparation for the journey at the time and had not witnessed her son's disobedience; the King was coldly certain that she would not have accepted it under any circumstances and neither the timing nor the situation (in front of Jason's friends and several members of the army) were appropriate for dealing with the boy. The King himself had not deemed it to be worth arguing with the lad or laying down the law on this occasion. There would come a time when he would require Jason's cooperation and unquestioning obedience – his loyalty – so it was perhaps best not to make the young man resent him now.
They had travelled slowly through the woods and across the plains in deference to Pasiphae's injuries, always alert to the danger of discovery by Amphigeneian troops and steering clear of any settlements wherever possible. The further they travelled from the city of Atlantis itself the less the chances of running into enemy forces, and yet none of them could quite relax. The journey had seemed to take forever; as though they were creeping along at a snail's pace. Slowly though the mountains in the distance had crept inexorably closer until at last they were in the foothills, skirting the base of the mountains and seeking whatever cover they could in the barren landscape.
The Queen had borne the journey with her customary reserve and stoicism. If she were in any discomfort she was certainly not about to let anyone know it. She could not hide how pale and drawn her face was though and in spite of her rigid carriage there was a weary slump to her shoulders. There were limits, it seemed, to how far even Pasiphae's iron will would carry her.
It was a relief then when they crested the top of one final rise and saw the sheltered bay of Pagenia lying ahead of them, the town nestling between the hills and the shore. The sea was deceptively calm; a vibrant blue that caught the eye and drew attention. For once the day was fine and bright, and the winter sun sparkled on the still waters.
Minos allowed himself a faint smile. It was years since he had visited Pagenia – although a royal estate was maintained here, which made Dion's choice of the town as a base from which to build their forces doubly fortuitous. At least it would mean that his wife and daughter could be housed in comfort – although it wouldn't be quite as luxurious as they were used to in the Palace back in Atlantis. It would still be better than sleeping in a cave, however, or even sleeping on the floor of a hunting lodge (even if they had made relatively comfortable beds out of straw).
"Come," he said to his companions, "the royal estate is on the far side of the town. We are still some miles away and I would like to reach the comforts of my own property before dusk."
"Royal estate?" he heard Jason murmur behind him.
"It is part farm, part administrative centre," Melas answered equally quietly. "Such estates are set up throughout the kingdom to provide both additional revenue for the royal household and specific goods for the royal table. For example one estate will specialise in wine production, another may produce olives, and so on. The larger estates also have a large dwelling so that the King or any member of his family will have a suitable place to stay should they ever choose to visit. It is of course rare for a member of the Court to visit one of the royal estates but they are kept in readiness just in case."
Minos heard his stepson murmur his understanding before spurring his horse onwards, moving slowly enough that those of the group who were on foot would be able to keep up but quickly enough to give them the idea that they ought to keep moving.
Coming down off the rise they passed through row upon row of vines, clinging to the hillside and tended carefully, the south facing slopes providing perfect growing conditions. The vineyard seemed to go on for miles, although the fact that the travellers were taking a diagonal course across the fields added to this impression.
Finally though the journey was at an end. Rearing up ahead of them was a large, low roofed house, built on three sides of a central courtyard and surrounded by walls. They passed through a high arched gateway in the perimeter wall coming to a stop in the central courtyard as a harried looking official came out to meet them, stopping in shock as he recognised his King, his himation lopsided as though he had pulled it on in a hurry.
"Y-your Majesty!" he stammered. "Forgive me. I had not received news of your impending arrival."
Minos raised an eyebrow.
"Do not be overly concerned," he answered briskly. "I sent no word. Our journey has been undertaken with both speed and secrecy. I do not know how much you are aware of the recent events which have overtaken the kingdom." He looked expectantly at the official.
The other man swallowed hard.
"W-we have heard some outlandish rumours My Lord," he answered hesitantly. "It is said in the town that Atlantis has been invaded by Amphigeneia and that the city itself is under siege."
"I assure you that the rumours are true," Minos answered. "You have seen none of the enemy in Pagenia then?"
"No My Lord. The town is small and out of the way; easily overlooked. We live quietly here and have seen no evidence of any foreign troops in the countryside nearby."
"That is all to the good," Minos murmured. He fixed the official with a hawk-like stare. "Tell me," he demanded, "is Pagenia loyal to the throne?"
"Of course Your Majesty," the official protested. "We have been utterly loyal to you ever since the happy day when you came to the throne." He hesitated. "Pagenia is not an important town," he admitted. "We are not at the centre of society as it were. As a rule the townsfolk tend to be old fashioned; reserved. Those with more radical ideas or who are discontented in any way tend to leave our small town for larger and more exciting settlements. We are, however, honoured by the presence of this estate and will be even more honoured by the presence of Your Majesty – for many of the townsfolk it will be the ultimate accolade. We are loyal and will remain so."
"Good," the King stated. "What is your name?"
"Alexarchos," came the reply. "I am Your Majesty's chief overseer in Pagenia. It is my duty and my honour to see to the smooth running of this estate and look after your interests here My Lord. I have held my post for the last ten years. I still remember the ceremony of my appointment in the city of Atlantis itself and treasure the document confirming my position that Your Majesty gave me. It is how I knew you at once My Lord."
"Very good," Minos answered. "We will be remaining here at Pagenia for the foreseeable future." He sighed. "The city of Atlantis has fallen," he admitted, "but plans are afoot to allow us to regain our rightful place. We will be using Pagenia as a base and will be gathering our loyal forces and allies here prior to reclaiming the city." Minos glanced about at his travelling companions. "Suitable lodging will be found for our travelling companions," he instructed. "As you can see the Oracle of Poseidon and the High Priest have travelled with us. I will expect that every courtesy be paid and attention be given to their every comfort."
"Of course My Lord," Alexarchos murmured.
"The Queen was injured some days ago," Minos went on. "Her quarters must be made available as quickly as possible and I would have them made as comfortable as possible. Equally I would wish that my daughter's rooms were prepared with all speed. The journey we have made has been a taxing one and I believe that we would all wish for rest."
"At once Your Majesty," Alexarchos responded. He clapped his hands briskly to summon several lower ranking servants and set about giving them crisp and clear orders. Once they had been despatched to their duties he turned back to the King. "Everything will be as you wish My Lord," he said. Then he glanced at Jason and his friends with barely concealed disdain, taking in the quality of their clothing and instantly judging their social status from there. "I will arrange for space to be found in the servant's quarters for your retainers," he added.
Minos followed his look with a frown.
"The young man with the dark hair is of noble birth," he said sharply, "and must be afforded every courtesy. You will treat him with respect. The men with him are his companions. He is to be found rooms in the guest quarters and I wish for his companions to be quartered as closely by as possible."
Alexarchos swallowed hard again.
"Y-yes My Lord," he said. "I will see that it is done."
Minos' eyes narrowed.
"See that it is," he retorted frostily. "As I have said our journey has been a long and arduous one and I believe that refreshment is in order. Once the quarters are prepared see to it that warm water for washing and fresh clothes are provided… and I believe that a hot meal is necessary. In addition I will expect fresh bandages to be provided for the Queen and such healing herbs and remedies as are requested by those looking after her."
"And will you also be requiring the services of a healer?" Alexarchos asked.
"At present no," Minos answered. He glanced across to where Pythagoras was standing with a faint smile. "One of our company has proved to be a talented practitioner of medicine. He has been treating the Queen most successfully under the circumstances. The Oracle has also been playing her part and between them I believe that Her Majesty is in good hands. I will of course inform you if that should change and I should require you to obtain the services of a different doctor." He swung down from the back of the horse he had been riding. "The horses will require stabling," he added. "See to it."
As Minos was finishing this exchange with his overseer, Jason crossed to his mother's side and looked up at where she was sitting astride a grey horse. Pasiphae looked every inch the Queen in spite of her odd clothing. Despite this he knew that the wound in her stomach would make dismounting difficult – as it had every day since they had left the hunting lodge. To Pasiphae's chagrin she required help to mount and dismount her horse – a weakness that she hated.
Jason smiled encouragingly.
"Listen," he said, his voice so quiet that it did not carry any further than Pasiphae, "I know you don't want my help but I don't think there's all that much choice to be honest. Would you rather fall and have them see it?" He glanced towards the doors of the house where a group of servants were hurrying out to see to the horses and to the wellbeing of their royal masters.
Pasiphae followed his look with narrowed and hardened eyes – the only outward sign she gave of her displeasure. Slowly, painfully slowly, she swung her leg over the side of the horse until she was sitting side saddle and, trusting that Jason would not let her fall in public, slipped from her seat towards the ground below.
Jason forced himself to look as serious as possible for the sake of the Queen's dignity. As swiftly as she slipped down from the horse's back he reached out and caught her, hands resting lightly at her waist as she used him to regain her balance and as a prop until the momentary wave of pain and light-headedness that overcame her on dismounting passed. Not that she allowed any of how she was feeling to register on her face, of course – Pasiphae had played the game of power and politics for far too long to allow anyone to see weakness in her.
For his part Jason stifled a gasp as his ribs pulled painfully. He was undoubtedly healing and no longer felt a constant throbbing from his sore side but the occasional twinge when he moved a certain way or too suddenly reminded him that he was by no means fully healed yet. Perhaps it had not been the best idea for him to be the one to help Pasiphae but he was willing to bet that she would never have accepted help from most of their travelling party while they were in a public place; she simply would not have allowed Hercules or one of the soldiers to have laid a hand on her for instance.
With one hand firmly planted in the small of his mother's back and his shoulder tucked behind hers so that she could surreptitiously lean on him if necessary, they made their way slowly across the small courtyard to Minos' side. It at least allowed the Queen an illusion of independence and she walked with her back straight and head held high, appearing to glide as seamlessly as ever. Minos couldn't help the little surge of pride he felt as he watched her. Gods but Pasiphae was magnificent; even in the midst of pain and suffering the fortitude with which she held herself together and the way she could give the impression of grace and power were incredible.
As the Queen drew up to her husband Alexarchos stepped forwards and bowed low.
"My Lady," he said, his voice dripping with awe and a little fear. "We are humbled by your presence. I hope that you will find all to your liking in this house."
Pasiphae hummed noncommittally and smiled coldly.
"We shall see," she answered with an imperiously raised eyebrow.
Alexarchos swallowed hard yet again and gestured towards the doors.
"I-if you would care to follow me Your Majesty I would be honoured to show you to your quarters… which should have been prepared by now." His gaze wavered uncertainly between the King and Queen as though he were unsure who he should be addressing his remark to.
"Very well," Pasiphae answered, drawing the attention of the overseer back to herself. "You will arrange for a full inventory of the household stores and a copy of the household accounts to be brought to my chambers… and inform both the head cook and the servant in charge of organising the cleaning that I will require their presence as soon as I have had leisure to check the records. You will be there yourself also."
Alexarchos trembled slightly. Even in a town as far from the capital as Pagenia the Queen's fearsome reputation was known. For a moment he wished the ground would swallow him up.
"My Lady," he protested. "I am most careful and scrupulous in my keeping of the records and my care of His Majesty's property. I do not believe that there is any discrepancy in the accounts."
"I have not suggested that there is," Pasiphae snapped, glaring at the man. "If we are to remain here for any length of time, however, the ordering of the household will fall to me… as is my duty and my right. You would do well to remember that I am Queen and I will brook no impertinence from a mere servant."
Alexarchos' trembling increased.
"F-forgive me My Lady," he stammered. "I meant no impertinence. I will see that the accounts are delivered to your chambers at once."
"See that you do," Pasiphae answered sharply.
With one final severe look at Alexarchos she drew herself up to her full height and swept, as quickly as her injury would allow, into the house. Now was the time to begin to plan properly and to set in motion the strategy that would allow them to retake Atlantis.
The room which Ariadne had been led to was simply furnished and decorated; elegant and tasteful. A light breeze came in from the sea and teased the fine diaphanous drapes that hung at the window, designed to soften the sometimes harsh light that entered the chambers.
Ariadne crossed the floor to the window and stood, drinking in breaths of fresh sea air and looking out across the sheltered bay. The late afternoon sun sparkled across the blue ocean, dancing across the rippling waves. For a moment Ariadne allowed the beauty of the scene to penetrate her – to sink into her – glad that this house was set on the hillside above the town, allowing an uninterrupted view across the bay.
Then she turned towards the bed. A dress and sandals had already been laid out for her, although where they had come from the Princess did not know. It appeared that the servants were talented enough to rustle up almost anything at a moment's notice. Perhaps they had been borrowed from a lady of high rank in the town. It seemed the only likely explanation.
Ariadne looked down at herself and grimaced. She looked little like the perfect princess at the moment. Days of travel had left her looking and feeling grimy, the badly fitting male clothes she was wearing swamping her slender frame. Yet the tunic she was wearing still smelt of Jason and she found herself loathe to part with it, taking comfort from its familiar scent; inexplicably warmed inside by the feel of it against her skin and feeling closer to him than ever.
A sound at the door made the beautiful Princess look up suddenly. A young, female servant hovered anxiously in the doorway, a large steaming jug in her hands.
"I am here to help you to dress, My Lady," she said in a barely audible voice. "I have been assigned to be your maid while you are here."
Ariadne smiled welcomingly.
"Of course," she said kindly. "What is your name?"
"Rhea, Your Highness," the girl responded shyly. She looked impossibly young standing awkwardly by the door.
"Come in then Rhea," Ariadne said. "You have brought water for me to wash in?"
The girl nodded and began the process of preparing her new mistress. Ariadne submitted to her ministrations without comment. There was something comforting in the familiar rituals of bathing, she decided. Rhea stripped away the ruined sandals that had carried Ariadne so far from the Palace of Atlantis and began to undress the Princess, sponging down the delicate skin and gently drying her with a towel. The water turned brown and needed to be refreshed several times before Ariadne felt truly clean. Having washed and dried the Princess' lustrous black hair, Rhea slipped a soft silk petticoat over Ariadne's head and strewed poppy petals in a large metal dish, pouring warm water in on top of them and gently bathing her mistress' feet. Having plaited two thin braids into the Princess' hair, the serving girl drew them to the back of her head and fastened them, using them to hold back the wealth of dark hair. Then she began the process of making Ariadne up, painting a mixture of charcoal and olive oil along her lash line to make her eyes stand out and a concoction of ochre clays and beeswax on her lips. Finally she slipped the diaphanous blue dress that was laid out on the bed over the Princess' head, slid delicate sandals onto her feet and fastened a jewelled pin into her hair. Then she stood back and admired her handiwork. Ariadne, who had looked more like a beggar than a member of the Royal Family when Rhea had entered the room, now looked like the beautiful princess that she was. The servant nodded to herself in gratification.
"Thank you," Ariadne said softly.
"It is my duty My Lady," the young serving girl responded shyly, "and my privilege." She began to gather up the clothes she had removed from the Princess. "I will dispose of these," she stated.
"No," Ariadne said quickly and sharply. She moved over to the servant and plucked the tunic from her hands, leaving the rest of the garments with Rhea. "I will return this to its owner personally," she said firmly to the startled girl.
"As you wish My Lady," Rhea answered with some confusion. Clutching her bundle she excused herself from the Princess' presence and the room.
Ariadne sighed once the serving girl had gone and she was once more alone. What was she thinking of? It was hardly proper for her to keep a young man's tunic in her rooms and she hardly thought her father would understand or approve, and yet she found that she could not bear to part with it. By rights she should return it to Jason but somehow she could not bring herself to. Until the day when her father gave his permission for them to court she had to reconcile herself to the idea that Jason was her stepbrother and nothing more. Yet her heart demanded otherwise. At least the scent of the tunic gave her the illusion of his presence even when he was not there, although she hardly thought that sniffing an item of his clothing was a healthy activity… or one that would be approved of. She sighed again. No, she must give it back to Jason no matter how much she might wish otherwise. For now though she looked about herself for a place to hide it, safe from the prying eyes of the servants.
A diffident knock at the door startled her and sent her hurrying over to the perfectly made bed, thrusting the cloth out of sight under the pillow. There would be plenty of time later to give it back to Jason but for now she wished to avoid awkward speculation by being caught with it in her hands.
"Come in," she instructed.
Alexarchos stood in the doorway.
"Your Highness," he began. "Your father has instructed me to guide you to the dining room. He requires your presence for a meal."
"Of course," Ariadne responded. "If you would be so kind as to give me a few moments first I will be with you presently."
"Yes My Lady," the overseer answered unctuously, removing himself from the room once more.
Ariadne sighed and cast one last longing look at the pillow. It was easy to allow herself to drift into daydreams where she was just a simple girl free to choose whoever she wanted as a husband – had been even easier in these past days since their escape from Atlantis – and there was no doubt in her mind that left with a completely free choice she would choose Jason every time. Yet she was not a simple girl – was not free – and while there was a reasonable chance that her father might eventually allow her betrothal and marriage to his wife's son (especially given how fond he himself seemed to be becoming of the young man), such things were for the future and not for now. Now she needed to put dreams aside and become the Princess of Atlantis once more; now she had to prepare herself to help her father to protect the citizens of Atlantis and retake the city in whatever way he deemed suitable for her. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, Ariadne prepared to face the future with her head held high.
