Five of Swords
Standard disclaimer applies.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who has joined me for this story and for your fabulous feedback for chapter one – it's been very encouraging for writing the next chapter! Thank you also to those I can't respond to privately: Agasthi, Ash; gotanygrapes (yes, Hercules is being a bit shifty but, as you say, time will tell ;-)) and Angel (I can't see Pasiphae being pleased her son was turfed out of his home either, to be honest!).
I hope people enjoy chapter 2 – it's a little long, but hopefully you'll forgive that.
Chapter 2
Dumbly, he stumbled backwards a step, grabbing on to the railing and descending the stairs back onto the street. His chest hurt and his eyes stung with tears but Jason pressed his lips tightly together and refused to let them fall. It shouldn't be surprising, he told himself firmly: it's not your house – never was. If Hercules doesn't have room for you, he doesn't have to make room for you. You're lucky he lets you stay there at all. But even as he told himself this, it made his heart ache all the more. Numbly, Jason glanced back towards the direction of the Palace. However the thought of circumventing his mother's foul mood was more than he had the stomach for at the moment and Minos had a kingdom to run. He couldn't be wasting his time listening to a stepson bleat on about his own pathetic problems. Even the thought of Ariadne, surprisingly, could not rally his spirits.
Instinctively, Jason turned towards the opposite direction to where the narrow path would lead him to the Northern Gate and back to where his father lived. For the first time that day, Jason felt himself smile again. The weather may well be bad in three days' time, but right now, though a little chilly, the sky was a bright, clear blue. Aeson wasn't expecting him for another four days but as Jason and his father usually savoured every hour they had of their day, he was almost grinning with the thought of what they could do with an extra three days! Jason made up his mind: he would surprise his father and set off for the mines of Pangeon now. It might mean travelling through the night but he had his traveling cloak and anything was better than returning to the Palace, having been dismissed from his home. If Pasiphae ever found out he was turned away from Hercules' house, Jason was grimly certain that she would never let it go. So, with purposeful strides, Jason set off for the Northern Road.
As the door clicked shut behind Hercules, he stood with his back to it for several long moments, feeling his heart in his chest and his stomach churning. He sent up a silent prayer to the Gods before finally moving, almost robotically, towards the table. The big man leant forwards, intending to rest the palms of his hands on the surface of it and only just remembered in time that he still held the two pies. With measured precision, he placed the two small bundles on the tables where they quietly steamed. The radiating heat suddenly reminded Hercules of how cold it was outside, compared to in and he felt himself shudder.
"Was that Jason?"
The bright voice from behind him made Hercules spin round to the sound. Pythagoras approached with a pot of stew balanced carefully between his hands, wrapped in a thick cloth. He deposited it on the table, eyeing the newest addition of the two pies with quiet interest. Hercules however, appeared to be on the back foot.
"Huh?" he questioned. Inside, his heart was still pounding and his gut twisting horribly. The look of confusion and hurt on Jason's face was one that he was sure, would keep him awake that night.
"Jason," Pythagoras repeated. "I heard the door and I thought it was him." The young mathematician glanced out through the balcony at the street below. "He's usually here by now." Looking over to the cloak draped across the chair, Pythagoras frowned at the mess to his freshly laid table and gathered it over his arm, moving to hang it on a hook on the wall. The task done, he turned back expectantly to Hercules. The man still stared at him, his expression decidedly uncomfortable. Wariness itched at Pythagoras' agile and frankly suspicious mind.
"Hercules?" he questioned once more, a harder note to his voice this time. "You haven't answered my question: was that Jason?" A thought suddenly struck him. "Was he the one who brought those pies there? He knows how much you love Thebus' wares." The wrestler glanced down at his feet and took a deep breath.
"Yes," he confirmed.
Pythagoras smiled, relaxed. "Oh good. Has he popped back to the agora for something? Only I'm almost ready to start serving." He looked about for Jason's bag that was usually dumped right by the front door or else, occasionally, deposited on his bed. However, he couldn't see it in either place. Perhaps Jason took it with him for some reason?
"Where's Iphicles?" Hercules question was sharp, eyes darting wildly about the room as if the man in question had been lurking around the corner the whole time. Pythagoras' blue eyes widened in surprise, both at the abrupt change in topic and at his friend's slightly wild demeanour.
"He went out while you were collecting the wood for the fire. He has taken a walk before the meal. He said he would not be long." He thought a moment. "I suppose he was warm enough without his cloak and besides, it's still soaked through." With a sigh, Pythagoras belatedly realised that he should have set it hanging over the fire as soon as he had woken up. The wool was thick and would take an age to dry in these tepid temperatures. But back to his original concern: he was looking forward to seeing their friend once more. The arrival late last night of the bedraggled, towering stranger had at first alarmed him. Even when the strange man had introduced himself and Hercules had, somewhat hesitantly, welcomed him inside, something still felt amiss. Though, he supposed, he himself was no stranger to somewhat strained relationships with siblings. However, Pythagoras was very much looking forward to hearing Jason's opinion on their mysterious new guest. Jason had an eye for things like that and Pythagoras could use his co-conspirator.
"Will Jason be gone long in the market? I do hope he has not gone out to get wine: there were three skeins of it in the delivery from the Palace this week. Though I suppose with an extra mouth to feed and water, it will not go to waste." The young genius refrained from voicing his thought that if Hercules' brother was in any way like the man himself, then three extra skeins of wine were not going to be enough to satiate their appetites.
In-front of him, Hercules still stood, silent. The large man shifted restlessly on the spot before clearing his throat. "Uh, Jason wasn't stopping. He's gone back to the Palace for a bit." The words fell heavily into the room. Pythagoras shook his head as if to clear it.
"I'm sorry. I don't follow. Jason came and went?" Surely he had to have heard that wrongly. Jason never missed a day – not while he was well enough to travel. "Was he ill?"
Hercules shook his head, sensing the young genius begin to darken, dangerously. "He's not ill," he assured his friend, the explanation halting on his lips. It was tempting, very tempting, to claim that leaving had been Jason's choice but ultimately, Hercules knew, he couldn't do that: not to his absent friend's reputation nor to his other friend's feelings. "I asked him to give us a couple of days," he mumbled, trying for all the world to sound as though it had been a perfectly rational request. "You know," he added, rather desperately, "the place is crowded enough with three people." He gave a short laugh as Pythagoras' blue eyes turned to ice. "He'll be much more comfortable at the Palace and we'll see him again in a few days. By that time, Iphicles will have moved on to wherever it is that he's going and we'll all be back to normal."
If Hercules had hoped that his rationale of logistics, hosting skills and general comfort would go some way to abating the storm of his young companion's reaction, he was very much mistaken. Pythagoras had listened to the man's faltering explanation silently: first with a kind of dumb numbness but then very quickly with a burgeoning fire of outrage. By the time Hercules had finished speaking, Pythagoras was as red-faced as Hercules had ever seen him when he wasn't suffering from heat-stroke. His thin, diminutive frame had somehow morphed into a colossal statue. But more than that, it was the eyes that stood out the most: they were as cold as Hercules would have thought possible on a face that burned so brightly with indignation.
"You sent Jason away?" Pythagoras demanded. "Our friend? You actually said there was no room for him?"
"Well," Hercules tried to intercede, gesturing around the room, "there really…"
"In his own home?" The blonde-haired man rounded squarely on his older friend, thin arms trembling beneath his oversized tunic sleeves. "Or is this your home again now? You choose who comes and goes? Should I be prepared to pack my bags at a moment's notice? Give you and your brother some room?"
A look of hurt crossed Hercules' face and he opened his mouth to protest that he would never ask Pythagoras to leave – that, technically, he hadn't asked Jason to leave, either. Not permanently. Just for a little while. But Pythagoras swept on before he had a chance to put voice to his defences.
"I cannot understand you! I thought we were a family. There was even a time once when I wondered if you were becoming quite…possessive! That you would do this…"
Shaking his head sadly, Pythagoras went to the door, opened it and looked outside, scanning up and down the street. A sea of heads bobbed up and down the narrow alleyway but none of them looked like Jason. His dark-haired friend was certainly swift-footed and if he had been upset at being turned away from his home – as Pythagoras strongly suspected he would have been – then Jason was likely to have moved even faster.
Rounding back on the friend who he could almost strangle at this point, Pythagoras glared at him. "Bring him back, this instant!" he demanded, hotly. "You tell him what an ignorant, un-thinking fool you have been and that he is, as always, more than welcome amongst his family, in his home. You say whatever it takes – but you bring him back."
The young man was breathing heavily now and glowering at his older friend. Hercules tried not to swallow, reflexively, as Pythagoras' words hit him squarely in the chest. By the Gods, he already felt wretched enough! Couldn't his genius friend understand that?
"He'll be at the Palace by now," he protested. "I'll never get past the guards." He watched Pythagoras continue to seethe but noticed, with mixed feelings, that logic was beginning to war with his young friend's anger: rationality could never be denied access to Pythagoras for long. The anger was slowly giving way to hurt, inch by inch though Hercules' heart ached to see it there, shining in those bright eyes.
"Besides, he gets an extra few days with his princess, eh?" He winked suggestively at his sombre friend.
Pythagoras did not smile. Hercules sighed, wearily. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I really am. I made a mistake. When Jason comes back in a few days, I'll apologise." The genius' gaze was still hard making it plain that Hercules was by no means forgiven yet. "I'll make it up to him," he insisted earnestly. He had rarely seen Pythagoras so angry and he couldn't handle it that day – not on top of everything else. "You'll see. There'll be no harm done. I promise you. Let's just get Iphicles on his way and then we'll put the time back in to us three again – as we used to be."
Eventually, Hercules was rewarded with the tiniest of cracks in Pythagoras' stony mask though when the young man spoke, his voice was still hard and hurt. "This will mean, of course, that Jason will miss seeing your brother which is a great shame. If your family is here, we should all be included in meeting him. For all your fussing, Iphicles seems like a very pleasant and polite gentleman." He cast a dry, acidic look at the burly wrestler. "Perhaps you could learn from him while he is here?"
And with that, Pythagoras snatched up the cloth from the table and turned to walk back to the kitchen, muttering as he did so that the vegetables needed checking.
Hercules breathed a sigh of relief as he watched him go, his heart as heavy as his conscience. But, all things considered, it was for the best.
By the time Jason arrived at the Mountains of Galena, night had firmly drawn in. Not for the first time, Jason drew his cloak more tightly about him and shivered. His thicker, warmer clothing was still at the Palace. Pasiphae frowned more and more often as Jason returned to the city in the same thin garments that he had discovered on his arrival to Atlantis, albeit with the addition of the cloak that he had purchased in the market. He made it a point to leave his Palace life behind at the Palace but there were moments when the young man wondered if it would matter so much if he just wore the longer trousers or the thicker shoes? He wasn't even sure who it mattered to anymore.
The path was, indeed, trickier at night and truth be told, there had been one or two moments when Jason had considered going back, braving his mother's temper and the humiliation of being rejected from his house and returning to the Palace instead. But when he thought of his father's welcoming smile and his comforting words of wisdom, Jason had pressed on again.
The more Jason thought about Hercules' odd behaviour as he trudged on up the rocky scree, pulling himself up from one jagged platform to the next, the more he fretted and worked himself into a state, worthy of Pythagoras himself. What had Hercules meant by his comment? Did he see something that Jason didn't? Or was he just angry with him? Jason tried to think of all the things he might have done to upset his friend: he and Pythagoras had teased him about his body odour and drinking habits the other night. But he never seemed to take their banter seriously. Could his friend still be angry with him from his over-exertion at the recent Games? It was such a long time ago that it felt unlikely and in any event, the mammoth lecture he had received from the wrestler on his recklessness had been more than enough to express every ounce of anger he could possibly have possessed and then some. Jason couldn't imagine there could be any residual annoyance that would have gone unspoken. So maybe it was something else? Jason's stomach lurched and he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. Maybe Hercules was trying to break away from him? Slowly? He'd never fought with his friends before – not really and Jason paled at the idea that fissures were starting to appear on the surface of their relationship. What would he do in Atlantis without his friends?
Blinking back the sharp sting of tears, Jason shook his head firmly. He was being melodramatic. That's what he could talk to Aeson about – the man would always give him his honest opinion and he usually knew just what to say to put Jason at ease. Hopefully, he could tell him how stupid he was being. But what if he wasn't? Glancing up at the sky, Jason estimated it to be close to eleven, twelve o'clock. He grimaced: arriving now would be a disturbance but the people usually stayed up late around the campfire, swapping stories, singing songs. It shouldn't be too much of an imposition and he had the wine in his bag as a means of offering.
He had reached the final ascent that would lead him to the crack between the mountains. As luck would have it, the moon was full that night and the sky clear. Although it made it colder, it also illuminated his path making the climb a little less treacherous. Normally, he would have taken a torch from Hercules' house before he made this journey but in this instance, Nature would have to guide his way. Carefully he made the climb, securing his footing before he continued on up each step until finally he stood at the top, breathing a light sigh of relief. The path between the mountains was familiar to him now, even in the dark and Jason no longer felt the pressing walls of rock trying to close in on either side of him as he travelled through it.
Pressing his body through the crevice, Jason grinned as the sounds of laughter and conversation grew steadily louder, the closer he drew to the end. He wondered if Aeson was amongst the people he could hear in the clearing. Jason imagined his father would be: though Aeson may not entertain with as many stories as his companions, he was always there, leaning against the log bench by the fire, listening with a soft, knowing smile on his face. It was in that way, that Jason felt he and his father were very much alike: they enjoyed the company of others, but were content to let those others shine. The warm glow of the camp fire lit the last of the path for him and as he emerged into view, his foot kicked several small stones and sent them scattering over the edge of the drop, with a quiet clatter. The voices around the fire below stopped, and it suddenly occurred to Jason, that his unexpected appearance might alarm them.
"Hi," he called out, a little embarrassed. "Sorry. It's only me."
Down below, Jason saw about a dozen or so of the lepers, relaxing around the late night fire. Some had remained seated while others had stood on his approach and looked up at him with cautious eyes. Jason thought he saw one or two of them smile but it was his father that he looked for. Carefully, Jason began to descend the path that led down to the clearing, hoping to see the man as he did so: so many eyes watching him curiously, was making Jason feel uncomfortable. Thankfully, a tall figure in his familiar long robes emerged from within the circle of men and women and made his way towards him.
"Jason?" Aeson's voice was sharp and concerned. "Why are you here? Is everything alright?" Relieved to see his father, Jason nodded, his grin widening on his face. Aeson strode quickly and met Jason while he still moved down the path, forcing him to pause where he was. The rest of the group below watched the exchange with unbridled curiosity.
"Everything's fine," Jason confirmed – his worries about his friendships were certainly not the life-threatening issues that were clearly worrying his father and besides, he would wait until they had some privacy before he broached that subject. "I just had some free time so I thought I'd come here a bit early."
Strangely, Aeson did not smile and embrace him as Jason had been expecting. Now that the immediate threat of danger had been dismissed, his father stood a little taller and took a slow step back from his son, regarding him in a long, cool stare. Jason felt his smile slip a little. "I see," Aeson remarked, quietly. For a second, he appeared to be thinking something through. "It's funny; I wait here for you to show up from week to week and each time, I see nothing of you. But now that you have some free time, here you are."
Jason blinked, taken aback by the chill in his father's voice. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, aware the others were still watching from a short distance away. "I've wanted to come but I've been ill and when the storms are bad, Pasiph…" He broke off suddenly at the meaningful warning look that Aeson suddenly shot him and quickly amended his speech: "They don't like it when I travel in bad weather."
Aeson regarded him slowly. "So now that all is fair and easy, you give me what you can afford of your time?" Jason opened his mouth to protest but Aeson swept on: "I realise, Jason, that this is not a conventional home and that you are probably used to having your will satisfied day or night." He ignored the way his son's face morphed from hopefulness, into confusion and hurt. "But this is still our home," he said, indicating the other lepers with a nod of his head, "and it is customary in polite circles, not to turn up, unannounced, in the middle of the night."
Jason's chest ached and he felt as though he had been winded – punched in the stomach by his father's words and by the quiet murmur of accordance that seemed to run around the occupants of the campfire circle. "I didn't think," Jason stammered, wide-eyed. "I just thought that you…" Suddenly, he couldn't voice the words – they sounded so painfully naive. Would be glad to see me? Apparently, this was another of his monumental misjudgements. Still inwardly reeling, Jason glanced about at the sea of eyes staring up at him and began to feel his heart beat faster in his chest. A couple were as confused at the turn of events as he was but the majority appeared to reflect the detachment of their leader. Everything felt strange and out of place: familiar and yet stripped of all the warmth and invitation that Jason was so used to feeling here. It was like seeing a funfair after hours when the rides had all shut down and the colourful, happy park attendants were out of their costumes and just sat and glared at you for disturbing their private time. The illusion was gone. He was seeing the colony after hours and apparently he was disturbing their private time.
Hesitantly, Jason glanced back the way he had come, watching where the light of the fire reached no further and the gloom of the crevice opened out. Perhaps he should go back? Come back in the day, or when it was his allotted time? He wasn't prepared for camping but the weather was fine and he could make do for one night. But apparently sensing where his son's thoughts were heading, Aeson shook his head, saying quietly:
"It isn't safe to travel back now. And anyway, you're here now and I shall not deny the laws of hospitality." Jason almost stepped backwards. The laws of hospitality? He wasn't sure what that meant exactly but it didn't sit well with him. However, Aeson stepped to one side, indicating with his hand that Jason should continue down the path and into the colony.
Not seeing a better option, Jason complied, his face burning and feeling the judgemental eyes of those who quietly dispersed at the bottom on his arrival. Aeson followed him down and when he was next to him once more, said:
"As you can see, we've already eaten but if you're hungry…"
"No!" Jason replied, quickly with a vigorous shake of his head. "No, it's fine. Thanks, I've eaten. Sorry. I'll just go to bed." He paused, glancing back uncertainly. "Unless there's anything you need me to do before I turn in?"
But Aeson shook his head. "Your bed's not made up but you remember where the blankets are?" Jason nodded. "Right then – I shall see you in the morning."
It was clear Aeson intended to remain awake for some time, conversing with his companions but Jason could not wait to be away from their prying eyes and all but darted into his father's modest dwelling. Dim, smoky lamps were burning when he entered and Jason immediately crossed the floor to where his small bed stood and pulled the privacy screen across. He didn't want to see Aeson again until the morning when, with any luck, the man would have calmed down and they could begin the new day afresh, without these unexpected feelings of distance. The trunk in one corner of the room kept the unused bedding and Jason quickly went to open it, retrieving the pillows and blankets that he would need. Throwing them down onto the bed in vaguely the correct positions Jason collapsed onto it, kicking off his shoes and burrowing under the covers. Arriving unannounced in the middle of the night was rude: why hadn't he considered that before he set off? With a heavy sigh, Jason rolled over to sleep. He would just have to make amends with his father in the morning.
"Is Ariadne not returned yet? I have been searching for her all morning." Minos stopped and looked about once more, a frown creasing his forehead. Pasiphae kept her expression carefully neutral though she could not help but wonder, watching Minos cast his gaze about the parlour, if he thought his daughter was likely to be hiding behind the curtains as she used to do when a playful child.
"No, my Lord. We are in the month of Poseideon and Ariadne has much to help prepare at the Temple."
Minos sighed. His daughter was hard-working, almost to a fault and the Winter Solstice month, dedicated primarily to the worship of the Great Sea-God Poseidon, would keep her busier than ever. With his daughter spending more and more of her time in the Temple and Jason away for half the week, Minos reluctantly realised that he hardly saw the children these days. Not that the demands on his time as king afforded him the luxury of time with his family. But, he thanked the gods that he always had Pasiphae by his side. Even in her moments of temper, she was still a welcome companion. And, as it happened, her most recent bout of ill-temper had ended rather swiftly. Once her son had left for the city, she had become quite melancholy. Though she would not admit as much to her husband, Minos rather suspected she had quarrelled with the young man before he left and her fiery temper probably gave her cause to regret her words. He had noticed that she had been in Jason's room quite regularly since the young man left, dismissing the servants and arranging it herself until she was satisfied that Jason would be pleased with it. It was, Minos realised, her way of reconnecting with the boy, of showing him that she did love him. No doubt, she will be spoiling the boy rotten when he returns home, he thought to himself with a silent chuckle.
"Ah," he sighed. "Poseideon – a fine celebration. We must be sure the days of feasting surpass even last year's." Pasiphae nodded her silent agreement – bigger and better was always a good way to show-off the city's prosperity. "And there must be plenty of wine and food for the citizens. We must see to the supplies straight away. Perhaps Jason knows some reliable, good-quality merchants in the city who might help alleviate some of the burdens from our own kitchens?"
Again, his wife nodded. "Undoubtedly." And if not Jason, she added silently, then that friend of his, who regularly sampled the delights of every cook in the market.
Minos' expression momentarily darkened. "Though I suppose we must endure the lascivious merriment and chaos of the Haloea at the end of the month."
Pasiphae laughed, batting him lightly on the arm. Though it was not a festival she, as Queen, had ever joined in with, it always amused her (for as much as Pasiphae could be amused) how much her husband disapproved of it. Perhaps it was the temporary freedom the day granted the women of Atlantis, briefly removed from the constraints and burdens of their sex? "Minos, it is only for one day. The people enjoy the dancing and processions." She did not mention the various other acts performed in rituals to the Love-Goddess Aphrodite. Minos quietly harrumphed.
"And they no-doubt also enjoy the damage inflicted on the statues and buildings due to their drunken revelries. Or those bonfires they light about the city in dangerously inappropriate places. Or the skirmishes our guards have to break up. Our workmen spend days putting this city back together after the taverns spill out on the streets."
But his wife merely sighed. "Come my Lord, you are exaggerating. No-one has died yet from the Haloea."
"That's as may be," Minos agreed, still frowning, "but I do not want Jason embroiled in such activities if this falls within his three days in the city. It would certainly not be appropriate." Beside him, Pasiphae sighed, already seeing the battle on the horizon. But if Minos wanted to fight this particular battle then it was down to him. She would play no part in it. Let Minos lock horns with the boy for once.
Searching for a way to change the subject, Pasiphae suddenly thought: "It has been five years, has it not?"
Minos turned to her and smiled. "Indeed it has. I have sent word to the artists to be here within the week." For a moment, the king held her hand and gently squeezed it. "How different things are now," he wondered softly and for once, his wife could not help but honestly agree with him. "How much more joyous. We have much to be thankful for this year." He released her hand and took a small step backwards, looking carefully at his wife. "I feel the need to visit the Northern Tower. Would you care to accompany me?"
And knowing his gentle, innocent purpose, the queen accepted, taking his arm as they walked together, content to let the regrets of the Past fire their arrows at them one last time as their hope for the Future finally had its rightful turn to shine.
Morning was dawning on the third day of Jason's time at the colony and with it went the last hopes he still harboured that his father's strange mood would have dissipated over time and good will. For the most part, the residents themselves, now that their initial confusion had past, were happy enough to see him but no matter how hard Jason tried, Aeson remained strangely distant as though Jason had somehow deeply offended him. Try as he might, he could not work out his father's mood which seemed to ebb and flow like the tide: though conversation never flowed between them, one moment he would at least enquire as to whether Jason was warm enough or comfortable enough and the next, treat one of his acts of kindness with disdainful mockery. Pasiphae's mood swings were easier to read than Aeson's, Jason thought, miserably.
Jason had just returned from collecting wood for a resident's fire, when Aeson had curtly informed him that it had been somebody else's job that he was interfering with and so he had then decided to lay low for a while. Put some distance between the two of them before he lost his temper and said something he would later regret. He briefly tried to remember if there was a male version of the menopause because his father certainly seemed to be going through something.
Jason thought about Myrtle again. On waking the first morning and discovering his father's mood had not improved, Jason's first thought was to seek her out, hoping to have some form of welcome that visit. But, he had been informed, old Myrtle was ill. Nothing too serious but she slept most of the day in order to regain her strength. Exhaustion, Aeson had said, staring long and hard at Jason until the boy felt uncertainty and guilt niggle at his mind. Jason had slipped in to her hut around lunchtime, hoping to see how she was, only to find that what he had been told was true. The woman slept deeply, her weaving discarded on a small table by her bed. Jason couldn't bring himself to disturb her rest. So, placing a small sprig of bright yellow and blue flowers by her bedside to brighten up the room, Jason had slipped out again and not returned.
And so, having already checked that there were no more tasks he could do for anyone that wouldn't involve 'treading on anyone's toes' or 'trying to show off' – that one really stung and Jason hadn't resisted the barbed comment he'd shot back, either – Jason took himself away to a quiet area of the woods where he could stretch out, undisturbed. He couldn't think of anyone who would be looking for him anyway. He was practically a stranger in their midst. With a weary sigh, he took out the History work from his bag and unrolled the scrolls. If he could do no good here, he may as well be prepared for his exam. But even as his eyes roamed over the page, committing to memory as many of the names and dates and battles as he could, Jason's chest still persistently ached. He had never got to ask his father about Hercules but now that particular problem didn't really seem to matter any more. At least, not in the same way.
As the day wore on, Jason found himself relaxing a little more, putting his current troubles out of his mind and focusing on the here and now. He read through each scroll several times, jotted down some notes on a piece of parchment; tested himself, checked his answers then tested himself again. With a smile, he began to feel his confidence build as every test yielded more and more correct answers. It was just like Uni or studying for A-levels: Jason had always hated the thought of it and usually put it off for as long as he could. But once he finally committed himself to the act of learning and got stuck into it, the knowledge came to him surprisingly easily. At least he would be able to please Pasiphae, if no-one else and - he had to admit it - he quite enjoyed the success for his own pleasure too, not just his parents'.
By the time afternoon drew in to early evening, Jason had been so consumed with his thoughts, that he hadn't realised how cold it really was. He sneezed loudly and it rattled his chest, making his collar bone ache. Quickly, Jason gathered up his scrolls and shoved them back into his bag, inwardly wincing at the thought of going back into the 'den' and pretending nothing bothered him. It was possible, just possible, that the time apart had done Aeson good.
As he wandered back into the communal area, a large cooking pot hung on a tripod over the fire and the tempting smells of meat and vegetables made Jason realise how hungry he was.
"There you are!" His father's voice called out to Jason as he emerged from the trees. Jason considered both the words and the tone: neither seemed particularly distant or cold. He risked a smile and Aeson nodded back to him. "I thought you were going to miss supper. Come on." The man beckoned him over to the circle, with one hand.
Encouraged, Jason made his way over to the camp, suddenly exhausted and cold. He found a space in the circle and wearily sunk down onto the ground, just letting the heat from the fire warm him up and seep through his clothes. It felt good and, forgetting for the moment about supper, Jason smiled and closed his eyes, letting his head drop forwards towards his chest. A low chuckle from his side made Jason look up. Aeson stood over him, looking down with mixed emotions.
"You'll need to get your bowl from the house if you're going to eat," he reminded Jason. Then he added, in a decidedly snider tone: "We don't have table service here, I'm afraid."
For a long moment, Jason took a deep breath and clasped his hands together in his lap, his head bowed. When he looked up again, he fixed his father straight in the eye.
"Okay," he announced quietly. "I'm done." Aeson looked back at him in mild confusion but Jason ignored it. "I can see I've disturbed you and I won't take up any more of your time." He pushed to his feet and slung his bag over his shoulder, forcing Aeson to retreat back a step to give him room. A few of the others gave him a curious look for his abrupt departure. A few more gave him a sympathetic look that seemed to say that they really didn't blame him.
"Jason…" Aeson began, but his son cut him off.
"I'm going back to the city." He shot his father a pointed look, laced with anger, sadness and regret. Despite the edge to his voice, his eyes still shone, treacherously. "Thanks for having me." He didn't bother to disguise either the sarcasm or the hurt.
One quick stop to his bed to pick up his cloak and the other few belongings he had brought with him and Jason was climbing the path to the crevice before he knew it. And although Aeson stood and watched his movements, perhaps with a heavy heart – Jason couldn't tell – he made no move to stop him.
By the time Jason arrived back in Atlantis, his nerves were shot through, he was freezing and he was thoroughly exhausted. It was not quite dawn although first light was not far off. Jason paused as the city rose into view from the Northern Gate. There were still several hours before a respectable, polite time of day to be calling on people. He had no money for an inn and besides, it wasn't worth it for the few hours remaining. Jason thought about where to go. His feet ached so badly that he continually shifted from foot to foot, to try to alleviate the pressure. Walking wasn't too bad, but standing still was pure torture. He needed to make a decision as to where he was headed. His head was also swimming, probably from fatigue and lack of a decent meal. At least once on the journey he had been forced to stop when nausea overtook him. The only thing he had to drink in his bag was the wine he had bought from the agora and somehow, Jason didn't think it would do him any good. He had passed by a small stream a while back but that was several hours ago now and his thirst was prickling again. He should have emptied the wine and refilled it with water, but he hadn't thought about it then and it was too late now.
Well, he couldn't go home – Hercules had made it very clear that there wasn't room until this brother of his left (and Jason suddenly realised that he didn't know how long the brother was intending to stay). His thoughts turned to the Palace but then abruptly stopped, his heart hammering in his chest. If turning up at Aeson's in the middle of the night, was rude, would the same apply here? Could he just waltz in and out of the place any time of the day or night, treating the place as if he owned it or as if it was a hotel? Doubt held him back. He couldn't face being called up on the same offence twice in almost as many days. Once was humiliating enough.
Slowly, Jason's feet started moving forward, almost independently to his mind (which Jason had to admit, wasn't functioning on a particularly high level). It was with faint surprise, a short while later, that Jason registered where they had taken him to.
The gentle roar and swish of the waves soothed his frazzled nerves like a balm. Jason sank down onto the soft sand, finding shelter by an outcropping of rocks and trees. He wrapped his cloak about him and fell backwards on the sand, propping his bag under his head as a makeshift pillow. He was so tired and the lapping waves were gentle and rhythmic. It would not be long before dawn and then Jason would head straight to the Palace to change and prepare for his exam. But in the meantime, he closed his eyes and let rest take him.
Jason awoke to the sound of the gulls crying and the shouts of fishermen as they hauled their latest catch back onto the shore. The sun shone brightly on his face and the constant breeze picked up flurries of sand and continually sprayed his eyes, nose and mouth with them. Coughing slightly, Jason sat up, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes while succeeding only in rubbing sand into them. It took a moment for Jason to take stock of his surroundings but a moment later and the events of last night came flooding back to him. He had slept quickly and heavily. With a start, Jason breathed in sharply. The sun was far too high in the sky to be dawning. It must be mid-morning already. Cursing loudly, Jason scrambled to his feet, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He hadn't meant to sleep so long but he didn't have long to get back to the Palace.
It was fair to say that Jason ran on, operating on only a fraction of his levels of awareness: his mind was reeling, his heart hammering in his chest, his limbs were shaky and didn't always cooperate when he tried to round a corner or navigate past a vendor's cart and frankly, he wasn't sure what driving force was propelling him onwards.
Once he reached the Palace, Jason rushed inside and up the staircase to his room. A jug of fresh clear water had been left on the side table and Jason eagerly poured himself first one, then two cups, gulping them down in quick succession. It was not long at all before he had finished the whole jug and, much to his displeasure, realised he could not hold down so much water in one sitting, bringing the last cup of water straight back up again and into the bowl set aside for washing. Straightening, he took a moment to quickly pull off his old clothes and hurriedly dress in his palace ones. He ran a comb through his hair, dislodging a fair amount of sand and tangles. Then, emptying his bag of his travelling gear and the wine, Jason gathered up the rest of his equipment for his lessons, and quietly shut the door behind him as he left. With any luck, Acrion would have waited for him, even if was a little late – Jason didn't fancy explaining to Pasiphae why, far from failing the exam, he didn't even turn up to take it.
By the time Jason eventually returned to his chambers, less than an hour had passed though to him, it had felt like a whole lot longer. He pushed the door shut with one foot and let his bag drop heavily to the floor. His brain was numb, his emotions were tumultuous and his whole body shook from exhaustion, both emotional and physical. The events of the last four days had left him utterly hollowed out and in the very centre of him, a large black bubble of anger and hurt was steadily swelling, pushing to get out.
Sinking down onto his bed, Jason scooted until he was sitting up, leaning against the headboard and he stared blankly ahead at the wall opposite him, trying to marshal his thoughts, trying to dissipate that black, churning feeling inside his gut and to keep back the weak, sharp prick of tears. Crying would make him as pathetic as he felt and though Jason still struggled to wrap his head around how he might have screwed everything up so badly when he had only ever tried to do his best, Jason could at least allow himself the dignity of not wailing like an infant or cursing his bad luck and how the world wasn't fair. Even though, right now, it didn't feel very fair and Jason had a near-overwhelming urge to kick and scream and rage at the injustice like a sulky toddler. But he would not. What was the point?
He took a deep breath and felt the shudder run though it. Get a grip, he commanded himself, pressing his lips tightly shut: It's no big deal. But you don't leave this room until you've pulled yourself together.
A sharp rapping suddenly sounded on his door and Jason swore under his breath. Whoever it was could just go away again – it was fair to say that he wasn't in the mood for company. The knocking came again but still Jason said nothing, staring down at his hands until whoever it was passed on by. Jason tensed as he waited, listening for the sound of receding footsteps moving on down the passageway. A short time passed and the knocking did not come again. But just as Jason breathed a sigh of relief, he heard a soft creak as the latch lifted and the door opened.
Looking to see who was coming into the room, Jason suddenly felt the black cloud inside him swell to almost bursting point. He could not help but glance away, closing his eyes momentarily as Minos stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and then standing just inside, regarding Jason with a long, careful look. When Jason did not speak, Minos raised a silent eyebrow, sensing something very off with the boy. "You usually answer your door," Minos pointed out. His voice was curious, held a hint of remonstration but it was calm and quiet nonetheless. He watched as Jason eventually took a deep breath and looked directly at him.
"I know," Jason admitted, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you." Why Minos was here, Jason had a pretty good feeling: he had spoken to Acrion – he had to have done. This day just kept getting better and better…
Minos nodded. Though it didn't explain why Jason was being so silent, looking at the young man – the way his frame was hunched, the pale complexion of his face and the way his lips were pressed tightly together, perhaps to stop them from trembling – he was starting to get an idea. The fact that Jason had not immediately leapt to his feet and asked what he could do for him as he would normally have done when the king came to visit, was speaking volumes for his state of mind. The young man before him made no attempt to move off the bed, very little attempt at eye-contact and if a conversation was to flow between them, it would clearly not be starting with Jason. Inwardly, Minos sighed as he made his way over to the chair by Jason's small table: the lad was troubled and it seemed today that he was not destined to play the King. He seated himself carefully and stared quietly at Jason for a long moment. The young man looked as tired and as unhappy as he remembered seeing him. Perhaps it would be better to fetch his mother? Minos began to wonder.
But just as he thought the silence would stretch on forever between him and his stepson, Jason's soft voice broke through it: "Have you spoken to Master Acrion?" Minos looked at him, surprised. It seemed an odd question and he didn't miss the way Jason tensed when he asked it. It was usually Pasiphae who raked him over the embers for falling behind on his studies.
"No," Minos answered. "Should I have?"
Jason simply shrugged and gave a mirthless half-laugh. "I'm sure you will sooner or later: you or Pasiphae." He ran both hands through his brown curls, gripping the roots tightly and drew his knees up to his chest. Minos frowned at the state Jason appeared to be in. "It's just one of those days," Jason laughed out, harshly. "And I don't understand any of it." Abruptly, he released his hair and took a long, cool breath. When he raised his head again, his expression was calmer- blank, even. The king's frown deepened.
"Jason," he commanded quietly. "If I am to hear of these events anyway, I would rather hear them first from you and with it," he added shrewdly, "the events that have led up to them." He watched with a small smile as Jason grimaced, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes, perhaps to shut him out. I'm not going away, Minos thought with quiet amusement, so ignoring me will do no good. But the boy was ready to talk – he could sense that.
And he didn't have long to wait. When Jason opened his eyes, he fixed such an honest, raw look upon the king. "What are the laws of hospitality?" Jason asked, quietly.
Minos was once more, surprised at the turn of questioning. "They are the Sacred Laws, commanded by Zeus himself that say if a stranger or traveller comes to your door, you must not deny them food and shelter. To break such rules," he added, "is a great dishonour." Minos wasn't sure why Jason had asked the question but he didn't miss the way the lad's eyes began to water and he nodded, painfully.
"I see," he responded. "Thank you. Makes sense now."
"Jason?" the king pressed a little more forcefully, leaning in closer to his stepson.
Quickly, Jason shook his head. "Never mind me, Sire. It's just been a really bad couple of days but I'll be fine. You wouldn't be interested." But Minos simply stared meaningfully at him.
"Start at the beginning and I shall make that judgment for myself."
Jason hesitated, this really not being the time or place. But Minos appeared stubbornly, commandingly relentless and so Jason sighed and gave in:
"It's nothing really. I just had a small argument with my friend." Jason suddenly winced when he realised how juvenile that sounded. "I mean," he amended quickly, "it wasn't really an argument. It was more like we didn't understand each other…I think. I don't know: maybe he thinks I've changed; or maybe I have and I just didn't realise or maybe." He sighed, swallowing a lump in his throat: "maybe we're just starting to drift apart?" He risked a look up at Minos, who sat watching him thoughtfully and Jason found he was grateful for the lack of interruption. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "So anyway, I didn't stay in the city." At this, Minos raised a sharp eyebrow.
"Where did you go?" he demanded. The idea that Jason had simply been wandering, without protection for three days, alarmed him. Perhaps it was time to assign Jason a personal guard if he was going to be so unpredictable? But Jason's next words put him more at ease.
"I went to see Aeson. I thought, maybe, I could talk to him about what had happened." Minos nodded once more. There would never be a time when he enjoyed hearing the former king's name – it still made him nervous, despite Pasiphae's insistence that he was harmless and the more time he spent with Jason, the more it worried Minos. But Jason loved Aeson and it was important for a son to love his father and Jason had never given him any reason to worry.
"Did he help?"
Jason glanced down at his lap, embarrassed. "It was my fault: I arrived, unannounced in the middle of the night. I didn't think." He gave a short, hard laugh, his eyes shining brightly and his voice strangled. "I just thought he'd be glad to see me. I didn't even think about how rude it was. I can't believe I was so stupid. I don't think he was pleased to see me but he said…"
"That he would abide by the laws of hospitality." Minos finished for him, a hard edge to his voice. Jason nodded and something inside of the king became inflamed with anger. However, he held his tongue and allowed Jason to continue.
"Well, it didn't really get any better after that – everything I did was either wrong or I was doing it for the wrong reasons. So I left a little earlier than usual and when I arrived back in Atlantis, it wasn't quite dawn yet."
Minos frowned again: firstly, that the boy had been travelling alone and through the night and secondly, that he had not heard the guards say that Jason had arrived last night. A cold, angry suspicion took hold of him.
Jason glanced away, sighing. "I wasn't sure if it was alright to turn up here in the middle of the night and I'm not sure that Hercules wants to see me so I went down to the beach instead." He didn't see the way Minos narrowed his eyes, intent as he was on just finishing his wretched story. "I only meant to stay a couple of hours until dawn, you know? Just watching the sea. But I fell asleep and when I woke up I knew I was late and I knew I had this exam and I'd studied for it. I actually studied for it this time – I knew it. I thought there could be at least one thing that I didn't mess up." Jason trailed off, smiling sadly to himself.
"I take it, it did not go well?"
Jason shrugged. "I barely had a chance to find out. I could hardly focus on the words, I couldn't concentrate. What I did write was apparently rubbish. Acrion just tore it up and said that I had insulted him by coming to his lesson," and here he mimicked his tutor's deep tones, "with such ill preparation and in such an unsightly display of disarray." Jason sat back on his bed and once more ran his fingers through his hair, taking a shaky breath. "I never meant to insult anyone. And I was prepared – sort of. But I couldn't exactly miss it and I didn't know what else to do." He ended with a soft laugh. "I seem to have made a mess of everything I've touched."
Jason sighed again and bent his head down onto his chest. He wasn't sure if Minos would have anything to say, short of reading him the riot act for yet another failure. But he didn't care anymore. He had said his piece, told his story and whether or not it was listened to, it had felt good to say it. For what seemed like a long moment, the king said nothing and Jason didn't bother looking up at him. If Minos wanted his attention, he would command it soon enough but he was too tired and too miserable to give much thought to anything right then.
When Minos did speak, his voice was calmer than Jason had expected and it was also not to simply dismiss him. "Well then," he began, "it appears, as you say, that you have had some eventful days past. Perhaps we should begin with the most recent." Jason glanced up at the king, his body tensing. "No, you should not have come to your lesson in the state that you are in. A change of clothes will hardly pay remedy to a night of walking and a morning spent sleeping on a beach." Jason blushed, furiously, looking down at the bedclothes but nodding his understanding at the gentle reprimand. He had been a fool! He just hadn't had the brain-power to think clearly. Minos continued: "If such an instance occurs again, for whatever reason, make your apologies to your tutor and arrange to come back in the afternoon or else the next day. Contrary to your belief, your mother would understand even if she may have something to say about the reasons for it." Taking a deep breath, Jason looked up at Minos.
"Yes, Sire. I'm sorry."
Minos waved it away. "I am sure this test can be re-taken when you are properly refreshed, rested and fed. Now, on to other matters." And here he paused and looked more kindly at Jason. "This friend of yours…Hercules?" Jason nodded. "He is the same man who fought the Earth Bull alongside you? Who spoke up for you in court? He is the man you entered into this arrangement to save?"
As Minos spoke, Jason felt worry churning in his heart. "Yes, Sire," he said quietly. Then the king chuckled softly.
"Jason, such friendships as this – such loyalty – it is not so easily lost that one misunderstanding or petty squabble can break it apart. Speak to him calmly on your next visit and you shall see that I am right."
"Kings are always right," Jason pointed out, a faint smile on his face. His stepfather laughed, lightly.
"That is true, but I do not say this to you as a king." He tapped him lightly on the arm, provoking another smile from the young man. "Now, as for Aeson." His voice grew a touch harder. "I do not know his state of mind and I cannot explain his actions or why he was not pleased to see you. Perhaps he was, in his own way? But I can assure you of this:" And here he leaned forwards and carefully took a hold of Jason's chin, tilting it upwards until their eyes locked. "This is your home, whenever you want it. There is never a time, day or night when you are not welcome to arrive. You do not need an invitation and you will never be turned away." He gave the head he held, a gentle shake, watching as Jason blinked away the moisture in his eyes. "You know my views on your being abroad, alone, at night. I do not wish to hear of you repeating such actions again."
And then he released him and sat back in his chair. "If you do not wish to travel to see your father again, certainly no-one is going to insist upon it. Take some time – consider what you would like to do. And now," he announced, standing. "You must rest. I shall inform your mother of your return and…" he paused, giving Jason a rueful smile, "the result of your lesson." He watched with some amusement as Jason grimaced. "She will understand, Jason – I promise you and I am sure she will see that you are made comfortable."
Jason nodded, surprised by just how much better he was now feeling, how the world was not suddenly conspiring against him. He smiled, fatigue once more trying to take him as peace finally washed over his troubled thoughts. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he mumbled, already wriggling back down the bed until he was lying flat. He sighed as he felt his aching muscles relax into the bed and Minos chuckled, quietly.
"You are welcome," he replied, quietly exiting the room and leaving the young man to his much-needed rest.
That's it for now. If you have a moment to let me know what you think, then I'd love to hear from you. Thanks for reading this far!