The Start of Something – Chapter 3
Standard Disclaimer still applies – the characters and everything else is owned by the BBC. Thank-you to everyone who's reviewed chapter 2 and is still following the story. I hope you enjoy chapter 3
Immediately, he handed the torch to Pasiphae and moved to where the young man's upper body lay, half-twisted onto its side. It was evident that when the portion of ceiling collapsed, it had caught him unawares. He was lying almost face-down, sprawled painfully across the cold, mossy floor. Large slabs of shattered stone lay over-lapping one another and obscuring the lower portion of Jason's body. The boy did not move and Aeson immediately pushed aside the dark whisperings of helplessness: the notion that they had arrived too late.
Ignoring the boy's legs for now, he instead moved to kneel by his head.
"Is he dead?" He heard Pasiphae's strangled whisper and realised that he had almost forgotten she was there. She came closer to him, bringing with her the necessary light with which to inspect his son's wounds more closely. The curly dark hair was matted with dried blood and a wound on his scalp still oozed very slowly. That was good, Aeson thought: the blood was still flowing so his son must still live. That brought his thoughts back to Pasiphae's question.
"I don't believe so," he answered though could not keep the hesitancy out of his voice. "Jason!" he called. "Jason, can you hear me? Jason?" He gently slapped his hand against the young man's cheek, willing him to respond. When he continued to lie, unmoving, Aeson leant down close to his ear and waited a moment, eyes seemingly searching for something in the distance. "I can feel breathing," he announced with relief as he sat back up. Pasiphae released her own, controlled breath. "It's weak," he continued. "If we don't tend to him soon, I'm not sure how long it will last." He tapped his cheek again, harder this time and shook him by the shoulders. Eventually he was rewarded with a very faint groan from the back of his throat. His head lulled to one side but he made no signs of waking. "He's responding," Aeson said, "but barely."
Both cast their appraising gazes along his buried lower half. They wore twin expressions of grimness. What if the stones were more than they could shift between them? And what chance did Jason have, after being buried underneath such weight for so long? Pasiphae imagined her son, her strong and agile son, crippled and helpless – weak and vulnerable; his beauty, his grace, reduced to a shrivelled mass. She saw him leap and somersault over the bulls in the arena and heard the crowd cheer; saw him twist and turn and all but fly over his opponents in the pankration. Even Minos had seemed impressed at his skill that day. The thought of him broken into pieces, unable to fly, suddenly made her wonder if it would not be better after all, if this claimed his life.
But Aeson was at once testing the weight of the stones, easing his fingers underneath the slabs to try and assess the possible damage and further ramifications if they should attempt to move them and when Pasiphae saw his earnest, desperate actions it occurred to her that Aeson had not considered the same. For the first time in many years, she felt herself burn with shame.
A low chuckle from Aeson suddenly brought her up short. "Thank the gods!" the man was murmuring.
"Aeson?"
He looked up at her and smiled, relief washing over his face. "His legs are not crushed, I can see from here." Aeson pointed to the largest slab. "The largest of these rocks has fallen upon smaller debris by his legs – it has supported its weight, stopping the slab from crushing Jason. There's no room for him to move but if we can remove the rocks, he still has a chance."
And so they set about the task at hand and, though Aeson performed most of the heavy lifting and dragging it was between them that the largest rock and afterwards, the smaller debris, was carefully eased off their son. When they were finished, both stood back to appraise the young man before them. His clothing was torn and blood had soaked through in intermittent patches along his back and legs. His leather breast plate bore deep rents across his back and lay, half hanging from one shoulder.
It was this that gave them the most cause for concern. "You say he was attacked by an animal?" Aeson wondered. He ran his fingers along the deep marks. "Help me cut away his breast plate." Pasiphae withdrew her small dagger from her leather bag and deftly cut the straps at his shoulders and along his waist. Ever so carefully, she eased the armour off him as Aeson gently lifted his son to make the task easier.
When it was done, they drew in sharp breaths. Blood soaked his back, across his shoulder blades where sharp claws had rendered the flesh into meaty strips. Though the skin had made an attempt to close itself, it had not succeeded and angry, red skin enflamed the site of lacerations. Grit, dirt and dampness had been ground and seeped inside his body and Pasiphae tried hard not to recoil at the smell of the white puss which emanated from around the wound.
Carefully, Aeson rolled Jason so that he could see his stomach. If he had suffered a similar wound to the abdomen, it would kill him for sure. Mercifully, though bruised and scraped, his chest and stomach appeared unharmed. Along his sides were more deep claw marks, similar to the ones across his upper back. Pasiphae winced to see them and was glad the boy was unable to feel them. What must he have felt, she found herself wondering, trapped, alone, bleeding and in such pain? It was a mercy from the gods that he did not wake now.
"He needs water," Aeson suddenly announced.
Pasiphae nodded. "I will clean his wounds – as you declared earlier, I shall leave you to make the poultice." But he shook his head, already moving to take Jason's head in his hands and gently lift the boy's head and shoulders onto his lap.
"No, to drink. His wounds have waited this long – they can wait a little longer. His thirst cannot." Jason's face was pale, his lips dry and cracked. "I need the water from your bag," Aeson instructed, already holding out his hand for it, expectantly. Still unsure of whether to trust this man, Pasiphae did as he asked and when he had the flask in his hands, he prised off the stopper and put it to his son's cracked lips, tipping it with precise movements.
"Careful," he heard the queen whisper. "Not too much – we don't even know if he can swallow. Are you sure this is safe? You cannot drink when you're sleeping – you could choke the boy!"
Aeson looked determined and she only hoped that wasn't a bluff. "He's responsive enough," he said, firmly. "If he starts to gag, I can remove it before damage is done."
Thankfully though, as they watched, holding their breath, they saw his throat begin to work, reflexively, allowing the cooling water to trickle down it. Slowly, Aeson tried a little more and a little more until finally, Jason began to cough and splutter and Aeson removed the flask and re-stopped it, turning him on to his side and gently thumping his back, mindful of his injuries.
"Five days," Pasiphae wondered aloud as Aeson placed the flask on the ground and set about turning his son onto his stomach, laying his head carefully to one side.
"What was that?"
"Five days. How could he have survived in here, unable to move, unable to drink for so long? Any man should surely be dead by now."
"He's not saved yet," Aeson pointed out, darkly. Then he paused a moment. "And in any event, he is touched by the gods. He's special. If anyone could survive this, it would be him."
Absently, Pasiphae nodded although her attention was drawn elsewhere. From one of the saddle bags she removed another flagon of water and found a crack between two rocks in which to firmly wedge the torch. Then she returned to Jason's side. It was with hesitant, awkward movements that she used her knife to cut away the shredded remnants of his tunic and lay the material to one side. She then produced a strip of cloth from her own bag, soaked it in water and started to wipe away the dirt and stones from animal's attack.
"Be sure to get it all," Aeson reminded her as he ground the lavender and other herbs and roots into a smooth paste using one of the flat stones lying on the ground. "Infection has set in and the poultice will do no good if the wound isn't clean of it. Are there enough strips of cloth in your bag to bind his injuries once they're treated?"
"I know how to clean a wound," she muttered to herself. Then, to his question she replied: "If there is not, then we have other means to procure them. Keep your mind on each obstacle as it arises."
Aeson shook his head slightly and went back to his task. The night was wearing on and he was no-where near as young as he used to be. Even in his prime, arguing with his wife could sap the energy from him and although she had probably caused more wounds than she had cleaned, he had to admit that she was doing a good job. "It must have attacked him from behind," he remarked quietly, looking at the tears on his son's sides and back. "Jumped on him, by the looks of it. The claws have gone under his armour and around his sides. It's another miracle that it left him when it did. Or maybe he shook it off. He's strong."
Pasiphae made no comment on her former husband's observations, choosing to pretend he was not there. It felt a little childish, but also satisfying, Instead, she made one last swipe at the wounds on his back before she was satisfied they were as clean as they would be. The makeshift cloth was not fit to be used again so she wrung it out and took a clean cloth from her bag. Then she turned her attention to his side and repeated her ministrations. Though the strength of his body was obvious to all she couldn't help but ache for him. He looked so young, she thought to herself – so young, just lying there as though he were peacefully sleeping.
"It's ready," Aeson suddenly announced. "How are his wounds?" As he spoke, Pasiphae nodded to herself as though satisfied with her own appraisal and pushed away from the prone figure.
"All is prepared. If you bind his wounds with precision, the strips of cloth we have should suffice." Aeson slid in to take her place, the poultice ready on its stone. Scooping it up into his fingers he lathered it over the cleaned lacerations on Jason's back. Immediately, from somewhere in his slumber, Jason recoiled away from him and moaned, painfully.
Aeson paused, a smile on his face as he gave a shaky laugh. "I never thought I'd be glad to hear my son in pain, much less be the cause of it, but as it's the first real sign of consciousness we've seen, I'll take it as a blessing rather than a curse."
It did, indeed, have the immediate effect of lifting some of the oppressing tension in the room as he continued to apply the healing poultice and the finally dress his injuries.
When all was done, he sat back on his haunches and allowed himself a small moment of ease. He brushed a hand across his son's forehead and traced one finger along the curve of his cheek. "He's warm," Aeson remarked.
"A fever?"
"It's likely. Let's get him covered. This place will be freezing at night and he's not been able to move to keep warm." He looked to Pasiphae. "Have you brought a blanket?" But instead of answering him, she simply stared at her son.
"He isn't shivering," she whispered, her voice sounding oddly vulnerable and soft.
"No and that isn't a good sign. We must get him warm." He watched in mild confusion as, rather than delving once more into the saddle bags or into her own shoulder bag, she instead unclasped her grey cloak from around her throat and wordlessly handed it to him.
"We have no time to be picky," she announced, curtly, seeing the question in his eyes. "There is nothing else." And then she moved to put her back to the wall, some distance from them and slid gracefully to the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest.
She watched as Aeson tucked the cloak around their son's shoulders and then soaked a cloth in water and proceeded to apply it to the boy's forehead. Leaving it there, he took another, soaked it and then moved about his son's body, cleansing the smaller wounds as best he could and finally applying some pressure to the oozing cut on his scalp. It wasn't too long before it appeared to dry up.
"We can't do much else for him now," Aeson said, quietly. "At first light, we'll take him down the mountain, as soon as the path is safe." Pasiphae nodded though she didn't like to imagine how they were going to get him down. It had been hard enough for the both of them to make the ascent when they were conscious and able-bodied and she had heard it said many times that it was the climb down when most accidents occurred.
"It seems strange," Aeson continued, "that he would venture out with no water of his own."
From the shadows, Pasiphae quietly scoffed. "He is brave and agile but not blessed with an abundance of common sense." Then she thought for a moment. "Though I would have wagered even he could see the sense of bringing water." Suddenly, something she had not noticed before, lying a few feet away from Jason's head, caught her eye.
"What is that?" she wondered, pointing to the small object.
Aeson frowned and followed the line of her finger. He shuffled closer to get a better look. When he saw it, he smiled. "That is one mystery solved," he announced, wryly. "Our son is not so misguided, it seems." He watched Pasiphae's question in her eyes, secretly enjoying his moment of power. "It's his water skein." He held out one arm, experimentally. The edge of the flask just brushed his fingers. He estimated that Jason's arms were marginally shorter than his own. "He couldn't reach it where it fell," he announced. He picked it up and shook it. Empty. Curiously, he saw the top had been prised off or had fallen off – one of the two.
Then his eyes, so used to seeing in darkened conditions, honed in on still smaller details and as he looked, his smile grew wider. "It seems he did have water after all. At least, a little."
"How? He's nowhere near it. He cannot drink from there."
Aeson hunched down and traced a small path with his finger, running through the gravelled dirt from the neck of the bottle, to the small, flat rocks by Jason's head. "He dug a channel with his finger," Aeson explained. "The stones here are not porous and though water escaped between them, he was still able to direct most of it towards him. He's fortunate the ground has a downward slope to it." He examined the ground more closely. "Yes, it pooled here and for awhile, he must have been able to drink from it. It wouldn't have lasted long but it afforded him something at least."
"Something," the queen repeated, bitterly. She closed her eyes as she leaned back against the cave wall, suddenly overcome with fatigue. How much longer did the night have? Without being able to see the moon and the stars, it seemed a lifetime. Jason still slept – slept, she told herself: that was all. But if he woke? She was too tired to even think what she would do. "How is he?"
Aeson moved back to their son. "He seems to be resting as peacefully as possible. His colour seems improved, I think." She nodded, neither pointing out that with what little light they had, judging a person's colour was not an easy task. "Should we save the torch?" he wondered.
"No, we have one more and it will help to raise the temperature." She paused. "Besides, he's been in the dark for long enough."
"Are you cold?"
She shot him a dark, scathing look. "And if I were?"
Aeson raised one eyebrow and simply shrugged, turning his attention back to Jason. He picked up the tattered chest plate from where it lay beside them. "I don't think this will be saved," he remarked. Sparing a glance to what he held, Pasiphae gave a derisive snort.
"That thing! A peasant's garb. I'm surprised it afforded him any protection at all." Then she suddenly sat up straighter and fixed Aeson with hard, cold eyes. "Must you have raised our son with peasants and farmers and the ignorant? Was there not a family of noble breeding that you might have taken him to?"
With some satisfaction, she watched him tense. "I did not raise him," Aeson answered, his voice low and hard. "It would have been impossible to raise a boy while exiled from my own people. But I did not leave him with peasants, either. He had a good life. Looked after by a man – a good man, who…who let him believe he was his uncle. Family. Jason was loved and protected. I made sure of it."
"You made sure of nothing – you abandoned him!" she hissed, fiercely, her eyes having widened. "It is one thing to steal my son but it is another thing entirely to leave him to the wolves! You have not seen him grow, you do not know of his hardships, of his friends, of his pains. He must have had a life of questions, a life of emptiness!"
Her intensity surprised Aeson. "You do seem to care," he wondered.
"Of course I would." Then her voice became quieter, almost afraid. "And what of me?" she asked. "What did you tell him …of me?" At once, she saw the hard glint in his eyes and already guessed the answer.
"I told him you were dead. Beyond that, nothing."
"Not even my name?" Pasiphae whispered.
"You didn't deserve that much of his life." Then, even Aeson felt a moment of pity for the open anguish on his former wife's face. "Besides, he was only three years old when I left him to return here. There was only so much a child that age would remember and understand."
They were silent for a long time, listening to the breathing of their son, watching his chest rising and falling. The air was stale and the sooner they could move him into the fresh air, the better. But the winds had been picking up around them as they finished their climb and would do him no good to expose him to them.
"Where did you take him?"
The question, coming from so much silence, startled Aeson. He hesitated before answering. "Another country. Far from Greece."
"Not Persia?"
"No, don't be foolish! Somewhere where they have never heard of you or me or any of our damned wretched wars! Somewhere he could grow up safe and in peace. If you think it was easy for me to leave him there, then you really never knew me at all." Suddenly he felt Jason begin to stir beneath his warming hand, laying lightly on the boy's chest.
"Jason?" he asked, softly. His young face tensed, perhaps in pain and he mumbled, incoherently, noises of pain and fear and discomfort. They could only imagine what nightmares ran through his mind as threatening memories and dark dreams merged into an inescapable cocoon. Pasiphae tensed and moved deeper into the shadows, suddenly wary. "Shh," Aeson whispered, leaning close to his son's ear. "Easy, Jason. You're safe. Go to sleep. Just sleep. I'm here." He rhythmically smoothed the tangled hair across his head until he quieted once more and his tensed shoulders relaxed.
"He's shivering," Aeson said. "That's good. His body is becoming more alert. I think he'll be alright as long as we move him as soon as it's light." He looked over to where she sat, further back now along the wall. "He's not waking," he assured her. Then he paused and sighed, wearily. "You should try and get some sleep. There's no sense both of us being exhausted in the morning. I'll sit with him."
It seemed however that Pasiphae would not be so easily dismissed. "I prefer to remain awake. I have…details yet to work out on my return." Aeson raised an eyebrow.
"What does Minos know of your absence?"
She hesitated but eventually could see no harm in conversing further on the subject. "That I have gone to visit mutual friends in a neighbouring city to discuss the possibility of a combined athletic contest."
Aeson appeared amused. "Very specific."
Pasiphae allowed herself a small smile. "Details are important. And not entirely useless. A contest of athletic prowess is just what Atlantis needs to put recent, unfortunate events out of their minds." She turned her eye on the sleeping boy. "He would excel at it, I am sure." Another slight movement made her tense, once more. If he saw her, questioned her, what on earth would she tell him? Again, Aeson noticed her discomfort and smiled.
"He's a heavy sleeper," he assured her though despite his assertions he made careful measure to keep his voice low and quiet. He smiled, fondly, suddenly lost in a memory. The queen noticed and her eyes narrowed. "I remember," he said, speaking partly to himself, partly to her and possibly even to his inert son. "I remember when he was a baby, or little more than a babe, maybe two years old how he could not fall asleep without music. I would keep the radio on all night to soothe him and rock him against my chest but as long as the music played, he was out like a light."
"Radio?"
For a moment, Aeson looked puzzled himself. But then he remembered. "Never mind," he muttered. "It was just something from…his home."
"I see." Her voice seemed to lower the cave's temperature even further. It was not unnoticed by Aeson. He had the good grace to shift a little uncomfortably, suddenly not wanting to see her expression. He did not regret his actions and the gods knew that this woman deserved some misery of her own. But even so, it couldn't be easy for a mother to hear about the life of a son she thought had died nearly two years earlier.
He absently smoothed some hair from Jason's forehead with rough, calloused hands. The young man didn't even stir beneath his touch though he had been secretly hoping he would. He was startled from his thoughts when he felt Pasiphae moving off to the side of him. It unnerved him a little as he hadn't noticed the woman move. He should have remembered how silently she manoeuvred. Watching, he saw her gently kneel and remove the dried out water skein.
"There's no point in leaving this here any more," she muttered, quietly. "It's just making a mess." She glanced over to Jason, now closer to her than she had allowed for some time. As if coming to a decision she suddenly moved to kneel on the opposite side to her son and stuffed the vessel into her leather bag. When she looked up, Aeson was almost smiling at her. Not the twisted, biting smile but something closer to a genuine expression of warmth. She felt herself recoil at it but she was loathed to start another argument across her sleeping son.
Aeson nodded towards the water flask, now tucked away securely in her bag. "He was always very resourceful," he said. "Getting his way, the little scamp and later, with his friends, here." Beneath him, Jason shivered and he immediately wrapped the cloak more securely around his shoulders.
"I do not need you to tell me of our son's talents," Pasiphae whispered, bitterness clearly edging her words. "I would wager I have witnessed more of his skill, bravery and ingenuity in the months that I have known him than in the few short hours he spent with you in these caves."
"Was that in those moments when he was avoiding your ploys to kill him?"
For once, Aeson had not hurled the accusation at her, nor raised his voice. It was an honest question, tinged with regret. And for once, Pasiphae had no response to it; no rebuttal, no justification, no counter-attack. I didn't know, sounded hollow and bitter on her tongue. So she just left it there.
Instead, her fingers inched their way across the stone ground to the boy's hand. And there they gently ran over his scraped knuckles – a feather-light touch from smooth, un-calloused hands. And when Jason responded by turning his head towards her, eyes still firmly shut and let out a contented sigh, she froze and quickly withdrew her hand. Across from her, Aeson looked on, in growing surprise, the first hints of jealousy snaking their way into his heart.
"What is it, exactly, Pasiphae that you want from him?" She looked up in surprise.
"Nothing. We have already discussed this. Jason must know nothing of his parentage." Her voice became bitter once more. "We agreed it was for the best." He was still again so she took the opportunity to replace her hand on his, smiling a little at the exchange of warmth that passed between them.
But Aeson did not appear convinced. "Nothing?" he repeated. "You'll forgive me if I find that hard to believe. You mean to tell me that Jason isn't just another part of your plans? Of your scheming?"
"And what schemes might these be?" she demanded, hotly. "Tell me, as you seem to know me so well and as I could not simply wish to see my son saved."
"To somehow make him acceptable to Minos. To put him on the throne as a puppet king. To use him as you use everyone around you – to gain power and then throw him away when you're done."
If he didn't know better, Aeson could almost have taken her wounded look seriously. "You believe I am capable of doing that to my own child?" she demanded.
"Need you really ask that? Would I go to such lengths as to take our son if I believed otherwise?" He sighed. "How can I ever trust a wife who steals her husband's throne?"
"And I, a husband who secrets away their child? In the greater scheme of the gods, I would say we are made quits." It was an argument neither could win. She watched him simmer, silently, opposite the subject of their division. "For the love of the gods let us end this pointless arguing. The past is done and you have my assurances that he will not learn the truth from me." She spared a glance down at his sleeping form and then abruptly rose to her feet. "Dawn cannot be far off. I'm going to check the sky. Stay here and watch him."
"You don't know the way…"
"Do you think me foolish enough to follow you blindly and leave myself trapped, should you desert me?" She drew herself up to her full height and suddenly, even without her gown and finery, the queen of Atlantis remerged from the ashes. Whatever truth may have passed between them that night would be left buried in that cave in place of their son.
She withdraw a small piece of chalk from the pouch on her belt. "You marked the route," Aeson said, with a low chuckle. "Of course you did. Go, we shall wait for your return." Pasiphae then withdrew the second torch from one of the saddle bags and, as quickly as Aeson had, struck a light to set it flaming.
He watched her leave then cast a quick look back at Jason, glad to see him still sleeping. After taking a moment to adjust his makeshift blanket, Aeson gathered up the scattered items from their bags and stowed them safely away. Then he slowly eased himself down, leant against the wall and stretched out his legs so that one foot could just touch the edge of his son's leg. The boy was quiet and still and so, for the first time that night, Aeson risked closing his own eyes.
But in so doing, he never saw that the fluttering brown eyes of his son, had, some moments earlier groggily cracked open and taken in his surroundings. Caught between waking and sleeping and the sluggish movements of his body, strange figures and conversations ghosted past Jason as though he were under water: the half-whispers of a conversation that he could not understand as it washed over him in rolling waves.
In the incoherence of his dreamlike state, Jason tried to hold on to his sudden feelings of warmth and safety when he had been so sure that he would die alone and afraid. He tried to decide what was real and what was not and above all, he desperately tried to hold on to the people who were speaking around him; their words and promises and a revelation that he felt very, very sure he must not forget. He attempted to speak, to produce enough saliva in his mouth to form words, to will his heavy tongue to move. But he could not. And despite his endeavours, Jason slipped back into sleep and did not wake again.
Aeson was not surprised that it was some hours before Pasiphae returned, along with the first rays of morning light. Though oddly, he had not doubted that her return would come. When she remerged into the chamber she looked as cool as he remembered seeing her – time alone had apparently done her wonders.
"We should move," was her greeting. "If we're lucky and ride fast, Jason and I can make it back to the borders of Atlantis before the worst of the sun."
"Good morning," Aeson remarked, rising and stretching out the kinks in his back. He felt a hundred years older in just the space of a day even though he had relished the time alone with his son. Unconscious or not, it was still something to be able to bask in his presence. Pasiphae merely rolled her eyes at him, picked up the saddle bags and arranged them so that she could carry the torch as well. The old was spent and she left it wedged in the rock.
"How is he?"
"He's taken a little more water in the night, which is good but his humours are still unbalanced."
She nodded. "Then we should leave now." Aeson knelt down on one side of his son and, mindful of his injuries, leaned in closer to the boy, took his outside arm and secured it over his shoulder. Then, very carefully, Aeson eased his other arm under the young man's back and scooped the boy towards him, hefting them both up standing with a barely restrained groan. Jason went, unyielding and Aeson took a moment to shift the balance over his shoulder, keeping hold of his son's arm and around the backs of his knees, to secure him.
"Can you manage?" Pasiphae asked, briskly. It was clear from her tone that if he could not, she would not be offering to share the burden. But it didn't matter. Once standing, his son was alarmingly light. He gave an affirming grunt before they retraced their path through the mountain until all three, once again stood outside in the blossoming dawn. The fresh air was sweet and welcoming and the scent of honeysuckle carried on the breeze.
There was no need for the torch now that they were outside, so Pasiphae extinguished it and left it by the side of the crevice. She went first, seeking out the secure path for them both as much of Aeson's concentration was taken with balancing his burden. As they journeyed downwards, Aeson spoke:
"Pasiphae, now that Jason is found, I will tell you my request." In front of him, he watched her shoulders tense but she did not pause or turn around.
"As you wish."
"I wish you to remove the leprosy you cursed me with nearly twenty years ago." He almost had to screech to a halt to avoid bumping in to her, so quick was her about-turn as she spun to face him, anger and suspicion warring for supremacy across her face.
"I knew it!" she spat. "Do you think I am a fool? Do you think I do not know the first thing you would do if you could walk amongst the people unhindered?" Her eyes were blazing. His question, she thought, bitterly, was well-timed: had he not been carrying her son, she would have pushed him over the mountain's edge. Aeson seemed content to watch her raving though his calmness did little to enhance her own.
"I warn you, Aeson, with all the sincerity I can that if you truly wish to protect him," and here she nodded to the young man, still securely nestled over his shoulder, "then you will stay well away from Atlantis. If Minos were to suspect for even a moment that you intended to try and retake the throne then Jason would not be spared. He would become an immediate threat. Even I could not protect him in that instance."
"Pasiphae," he spoke in even, almost gentle tones. "Calm yourself. I have not gone back on my word or tried to trick you. I know the dangers to Jason all too well and I would never do that to him." He watched her face as the anger began to fade. But not her suspicions – she still watched him like a hawk, daring him to prove otherwise. "I meant what I said last night. I do not wish to return to the throne and I will not leave my people here. They are good and loyal and true friends. But I would like to look into the water's reflection and see again the man I was. I wish to look into my son's face as he grows and see myself in him. I want him to see himself in me, to see his children's features in mine."
Her face had finally softened, though her eyes remained hard and cold. "Neither of us will watch him grow or hold our grandchildren," she muttered. "But I will do as you ask." She paused a moment longer, eyes downcast. "Let's keep moving," she announced, indicating the matter should not and would not be raised again. Apparently satisfied of the same, Aeson followed without further interruption.
When they once more came to the edge of the trees, Aeson waited a moment while Pasiphae fetched out her horse. He then, ever so carefully, draped Jason across the beast's neck and used a length of rope to gently secure his hands and feet together to help prevent him from falling. They had wrapped him in the grey cloak for warmth, his own shredded tunic having been left with his ruined breast plate in the caves. It was not ideal but it would suffice for the journey back to Atlantis. At a good speed and with a horse as fine as this one, the distance could be covered before the midday sun hung in the sky.
As Aeson saw to their son, Pasiphae reattached the bags and, planting one foot in the stirrup, swung herself into the saddle. She had to shift her position ever so slightly to accommodate Jason but she soon had the boy firmly resting against her. Unconsciously, she had placed one hand on his back and moved her thumb around it in small, soothing circles.
Aeson moved around to the other side of the horse, taking the reins in his hands and looking into his son's lax face, one last time. "He survived the night but his care is far from over," he advised Pasiphae, alternating his gaze from his son to his former wife. "He will need days of rest once he is back in Atlantis and plenty of water. He needs food, too. He's lost far too much weight to be healthy." Pasiphae frowned a little. Jason and his friends often had to be creative with where their next meal would be coming from. Was there enough to nurse a young man through his convalescence?
Carefully, trying not to jostle the boy, Aeson led the horse across the plain and back towards the road that would lead back to Atlantis and Pasiphae was content to allow him to do this. As they walked, he continued to talk. "They will need to change his dressings as well and re-cleanse his wounds. It's a simple poultice but it will need to be reapplied if they are to fight infection." He paused to run a hand through his son's unruly hair, a smile playing at his lips. "Then he just needs rest. Rest, food and water. He must not over-exert himself – his body will be very weak. And plain food only, for the first few days. Nothing too rich or heavy."
"And just how do you expect me to convey these instructions?" Pasiphae demanded, incredulously. "Am I to write a sign and hang it round his neck?"
Aeson suddenly stopped leading them and looked up at her, eyes wide with disbelief. "You intend to just dump him by the side of a road!" He let out a bitter laugh. "For a moment last night, I almost suspected that you had changed."
Pasiphae sighed, dismissively and rolled her eyes, a gesture designed to make him feel ignorant. "Can we be a little less dramatic, please? You are not a play-write." She watched as he shook his head, slowly. "If our part in this adventure is to remain anonymous then how do you expect me to hand him over to anyone without arousing suspicion?" He didn't respond but that usually meant she was right or at the very least, that she had a point that he may not agree with but could not dispute.
"I will see to it that he is safe and that he is found quickly and efficiently. His friends will take him home and take good care of him. The clever one will know what to do."
Aeson nodded, remembering the men who accompanied his son that night. "Pythagoras," he supplied.
Pasiphae quietly tutted, in mild irritation: "They don't need names. Don't worry about him – he will be fine." Aeson passed the reins over the horse's head and handed them to her.
"What about you?" he asked. "What will you do?" Pasiphae kicked her heels in and they continued their walk to the dusty path.
"Once I have situated Jason I shall continue on my original course." She smiled, suddenly and her eyes sparkled. "After all, there is a contest to arrange and I must not disappoint Minos."
"So the clothes I saw in your saddle bag…"
She nodded. "I am certain I shall find somewhere suitable to change along the way."
"Minos sent you without an escort?" Aeson wondered but Pasiphae merely arched one eyebrow in response.
"I need not tell you everything," she answered. They had reached the path's beginning and she pulled to a halt. Aeson ran a hand over his son's face and smiled.
"Take care of him," he instructed, "and ride fast." And she afforded him a curt, but honest nod before spurring her horse on along the path home.
OK – one more chapter to go! I really hope anyone reading this is still enjoying the story and thank you to those who have stuck with it from the get-go
I apologise for any medical glaring errors. I'm in no way medically trained and though I did try to look up the more obvious things, I'm sure there are things I've missed.