Five of Swords - Chapter 4
Standard disclaimer applies in that I don't own any of them – the BBC does.
A/N – I'm sorry these chapters have such long delays between them. Life and work are conspiring to beat me into the ground at the moment but I have finally managed to force a little time in there for myself. I hope you enjoy this chapter, for whatever it's worth. Thank you for the reviews to chapter 3 – they all helped to push me on to getting this one, painfully slowly, out! And thank you to ash, who I can't thank privately.
Chapter 4
The door shut softly behind him as Jason emerged from his morning's lessons. He slung his bag over his shoulder as he trotted to the tower's narrow, winding staircase. It was almost midday and they would be ringing the gong for lunch soon. Acrion had been pleased with his progress that morning and even the dreaded translations had gone well. Jason smiled to himself as he wound his way back down to the ground floor. Old Acrion, perhaps in deference to Jason's increasing progress or perhaps because he sensed his student's enthusiasm ebbing, had promised him a revised programme of study in the coming months: the thought of a break from the endless reams of History, Law and Politics had an uplifting affect on Jason's outlook. Since Poseideon was upon them, the old man had suggested they look at Greece's many festivals and civic rituals. Jason had been more than happy to agree though he sincerely doubted he would escape Translation, whatever the root of his study.
As he headed into the little courtyard, linking two wings of the Palace together, Jason turned in surprise when he heard his mother's voice coming from behind him. The young man paused, watching Pasiphae emerge from the North Tower, her hair elaborately bound up in its habitual tresses, her expression warm and smiling. "Jason," she called again, now that she had seen him wait for her. He grinned as she reached him, leaning in to kiss her lightly on the cheek.
"Hi," he greeted. He eyed the tower thoughtfully. "What are you doing in the Tower? You're normally terrorising servants in the dining hall by now." He suddenly grinned, impishly. "You're not still checking up on me, are you?" he teased. "I did make it to my lessons this morning." The dark-haired boy held up his leather bag, even as the queen delicately rolled her eyes. "I have the work to prove it."
"Hmm," she remarked, folding her arms across her abdomen, amusement softening her frown. "But not to breakfast, I might point out." Jason's smile slipped a little and he glanced guiltily at the ground, prepared for another lecture.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I woke up late and I didn't want to be late for Acrion." Still looking at his feet, he heard his mother sigh softly. She had begun to hope they were past this evasiveness and that she could now trust him to make a regular appearance at the dining table. Perhaps she had been too quick in her assessment? Still, it was not the matter she had sought him out for.
"See that you find your way to the midday meal," Pasiphae instructed gently and Jason glanced up in surprise, sure he had been in for a more scathing response than that. Seeing his surprise and enjoying being able to temporarily silence her increasingly quick-tongued son, Pasiphae allowed herself a careful smile, just creasing the corners of her otherwise schooled face. "I did not seek you out for remonstration or to check on your learning." She watched as a sigh of relief escaped her son and batted him lightly in the middle of his chest.
"Let us continue inside," she announced. "This is not the weather to be standing about in." Since his illness, she had noted a sharp, alarming cough that still came over her son when the cold temperatures seeped into his lungs. The queen had hoped that, given time, good food and plenty of soothing warm drinks, the symptoms would ease but it did not seem to be the case. Several times she had glanced out of a casement to see Jason almost doubled over with the exertion to breathe properly after returning from an outing in the cold. Her strong, beautiful boy should not be hindered by any illness, especially one whose cause they had already rooted out months ago. Why was the boy so susceptible to every common illness known to man? It baffled her sometimes. Jason had never been a weak child so why was the young man so? With steely grit, Pasiphae reasoned that another visit to the physicians may well be in order whether her stubborn, headstrong son agreed with her assessment or not. It was either that, she decided, or Jason simply did not venture out into the dropping temperatures in the first place and she was relatively confident which of the two evils the boy would prefer.
The two walked silently into the warmth of the Palace, where burning torches on the wall immediately radiated out their heat. Unconsciously, Jason relaxed some of his aching muscles when he felt them gently touched by it. Pasiphae led them both to sit on a small window seat, beneath the flickering flames of a torch. "So what did you want to talk to me about?" Jason wondered, relieved now that the prospect of a well-meaning lecture on his eating habits was safely past.
Pasiphae smiled and placed a hand on his arm. "The Poseideon marks the start of a tradition, long-standing in our family." Something flashed across the queen's eyes for just a moment – something distant and Jason briefly wondered what it might be. It was also unlike her to use the word family so freely. Curious, Jason raised his eyebrows in a silent prompt for her to continue.
"A portrait," Pasiphae supplied. "Painted every five years onto a wall in one of the private rooms for the family, within the North Tower. We always begin after the Haloea." She watched the uncertainty wash across her son's face and shook her head with a fond laugh. "Do not worry – the painting itself may take over a month to complete but the amount of time we shall be required to sit for will not nearly amount to so much. I would not ask you to be so still for so long," she teased. "I recognise a losing battle before I begin one."
Removing her hand from his arm, she moved it to quickly pat his leg. "They have begun the background already – that is what I was checking on when I saw you leave the Tower. But we must briefly meet with the artisans tomorrow to discuss the arrangements. I shall make sure it is at a time when you can attend."
Aware suddenly of pressing matters she had yet to attend to, Pasiphae made to leave but suddenly paused. Intent as she had been on explaining their custom, the queen regarded her son thoughtfully when she realised she had not actually given the boy a chance to respond. "Jason?" she asked, sitting back down next to him. "Is this alright? I promise I shall make it as convenient as possible. You shall not be asked to miss your days with your friends." Though if that situation did arise, she hoped she and the boy could come to some kind of an arrangement and that he would not argue too stubbornly. Gently, Pasiphae took Jason's fingers in her hand and gave them a light, reassuring squeeze. It startled her then, when she felt her son carefully pull his hand from her touch, already inching back from her on the seat.
"I can't," Jason began, earnestly, shaking his head.
Forcing herself not to reach out and touch him again when he clearly wished for his space, Pasiphae neatly folded her hands in her lap, noting for the first time the way her son's expression had become both nervous and torn. Her stomach muscles began to clench, uncomfortably. "Jason? Is something wrong?" She willed her voice to remain calm. It had to be a misunderstanding that they could quickly clear up. That was all.
But Jason still shook his head, his expression anxious. It belied something else, she realised suddenly. Something that had the lad unsettled. "I can't do this portrait," Jason insisted vehemently, panic underlying his tone. "I'm sorry but it's just not going to happen. I'm not a part of all this." He didn't see the way his mother flinched as he gestured around them both. "I don't belong on that wall and besides, I don't know what might happen in the future and then you might have to take me off it and…" He trailed off, standing up and folding his arms tightly across his chest, head bowed. Pasiphae remained seated, looking up at him in growing confusion and alarm. Jason sighed sharply. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "But don't you see? If I'm there, on that wall, forever, it's…permanent. And people might see. Not just us, but other people. They'd know." Jason stared down at the queen with wide, imploring eyes. "You're just going to have to do it without me." He turned away from her, muttering as he did so: "It's not like it'll make a difference – there's still plenty of people."
And with that, Jason hurried away from Pasiphae and her loaded requests that tried to fix him to a path that he didn't even know how long he would be travelling on. God – his future was the one thing Jason steadfastly tried his hardest not to dwell on. The choice he thought he would immediately dismiss had, over the last few months, grown steadily more familiar and comfortable. His life with his friends still called to him like a siren song, even if Pythagoras made a new life in Athens. Maybe he could go too? The thought had occurred to him. Make a break, take off, leave Atlantis and all its worries behind. Hercules could be persuaded to come with them. But what of Ariadne? Jason knew, in his heart, that she would never leave her city. Her people. Not even for him. Already, Jason's heart twisted as panic gripped him and his head swam.
He had to get out of the Palace for a while – get some air, clear his head. The city, strangely, felt too daunting a prospect as the walls closed in around him. Too many people, too many conflicting associations. But the gardens would do nicely. He would wander, losing himself amongst their paths and orchards and towering trees for hours, until the exposing light of day gave way to the comforting shroud of darkness.
Pasiphae's voice, quiet and low, stopped him before he moved out of her sight, however.
"Jason. It…it would make a difference to me."
Jason half turned to look back at her. She was still seated on the bench, looking after him with an expression he found difficult to read. Mentally, he sighed. Pasiphae did not take well to being refused, he reasoned, but eventually, his mother would get over it. Giving her a sad, half smile, he turned back around with a heavy swing of his head and continued on his way.
Jason had been nestled in the curved u-shaped base of a birch tree, his back and legs snugly fitting into the tree's secure hold, when the first rumble of thunder echoed across the land. Not especially concerned, he glanced up at what sky he could see through the tree's thinning canopy and the other fauna around him, buried as he was, deep within the small woodland surrounding the Palace gardens. In some surprise, he noted how quickly the dark clouds had blanketed the sky. Although he knew, as he had idled his way through the gardens, that time had been pressing on, Jason was still a little shocked at how long he had been wandering. He pulled his tunic closer about himself as he shivered.
Another rumble, this one louder, cracking the sky in two. Jason reached down to the leafy ground beneath and withdrew his leather bag. If the heavens should open, he didn't want to risk the scrolls inside being damaged. Instead, Jason hugged the leather to his chest, feeling a little warmer for doing so and closed his eyes against the approaching storm, leaning his head back against the gnarled bark. The storm in his own heart had slowly, over time spent distancing himself from his thoughts, abated until only a firm resolve remained: he truly had begun to love his family – all of them. But asking him to stand with them and be counted…that was something it wasn't fair of them to ask. Not yet.
The first fat drops of rain began to fall, lightly at first, just pattering over the treetops. Soon, however, they came in faster downpours, falling in straight, translucent sheets all around him and hammering, with a gentle roar, against the woodland floor. Jason sighed as the rain pelted his head, dripping down his face and along the back of his neck. 'She'll know I'm outside somewhere,' he thought with a mental sigh. 'If I get soaked through, she'll never let me hear the end of it.' And so, with a heavy exhale, Jason climbed out of his low-lying nest and stretched the kinks out of his back, having been curved for so long. A crack of thunder rumbled across the Earth, followed quickly by a flash of lightning that lit the sky. Jason glanced up at the sky and smiled. The idea that the lightning might pose a threat to him, never really settled in Jason's mind. He'd always found the powerful energy of storms to be somewhat exhilarating. With a soft laugh, Jason looked down at his tunic and ruefully admitted to himself that he was indeed thoroughly soaked through already, the fabric clinging heavily to every inch of skin. Oh well. No point in hurrying back now – the damage was done.
He slung his bag over one shoulder, checking the straps were as securely fastened as they could be and that the scrolls inside would not get wet. Acrion would be less than impressed, Jason knew, if he were to bring only a soggy pulp of parchment to his next lesson. Then he leisurely retraced his path through the winding trees, semi-sheltered by the overhanging branches, until the grandiose of the Palace once more rose into sight as he emerged from the tree line. He watched, with some measure of sympathy, the frantic dash of those servants carrying baskets and trays of various contents from the vegetable gardens to the kitchens, and others whose jobs necessitated them being out of doors. Some had managed to throw cloaks over their heads, but the unfortunate few who had been caught unaware, simply had to run faster.
The sky was once more rent in two by a crack of thunder that seemed to explode behind him. It made him jump, his heart hammering in his chest but it was the following crash, a second later, so loud he would swear it had been a bomb exploding that made him stumble forwards a step. Something struck him on the back – several somethings though they did not seem to harm him. As the sky had lit up with jagged streaks of lightning, from further away near the Palace kitchens, Jason heard high-pitched, startled screams. He spun around to the sound of the crack. A giant oak, some feet behind him, smouldered in the driving rain. He couldn't be sure if he could see the glow of flames or not as the rain beat down in-front of his eyes. It looked as if a deep crack now ran the length of the tree's trunk, dividing it neatly down the middle. Huge chunks of bark were scattered around the base of it. Jason felt, for the first time, a chill run down his spine. His ears still echoed with the deafening explosion and the young man picked up his pace as the thunder rang out once more, the light quickly flashing across the darkened sky.
Reaching the kitchen door, Jason darted through to a few surprised looks from the maids and cooks, shutting it heavily behind him.
"Are you alright, my Lord?" The cook, a kind, matronly woman asked, stepping forwards as Jason leaned against the door. She did not much like the shade of his skin, nor the way his arms seemed to tremble. Jason swallowed, reflexively and turned to her.
"Yes," he muttered, eyes already darting around her and to his exit. "I'm fine, thanks." Before she could question him further or press any food or drink into his hand, Jason nipped around her and quickly left the kitchens behind, seeking out the back staircase that would lead him up to the wing of the family where their bedrooms and private chambers were housed. It was technically meant for the lower servants – a discrete entry and exit from the main staircase – but Jason didn't mind and didn't much care about any scolding he might receive on his lack of propriety, should either the king or queen catch him. He shivered again as he emerged from the top of the staircase into the family's corridor, his whole body shaking. Leaning against the wall for a moment, Jason closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling slightly nauseous. The ringing in his ears was finally dimming down.
"Jason?"
He looked up with a startled jump, taking a moment longer than usual to recognise the king's deep voice. "Your Majesty," he replied automatically, glad that his brain and mouth appeared to be functioning on a fairly normal level, despite his thudding pulse and the tightening in his chest. Minos drew level with him from where he approached further down the corridor. A sheaf of papers was in one hand, tied carefully around with twine. They looked official, if the seals were anything to go by. But Minos did not make mention of them. Instead, he reached out his other hand and gently but firmly, placed it around Jason's upper arm.
The king looked at his stepson, intently. "Jason?" he asked again, taking in the drenched and shivering sight of him. "Are you alright? Your mother could not find you within the Palace walls and said you were therefore likely outside today. I take it you were caught in the storm?" He could feel the arm trembling with minute vibrations beneath his touch.
Jason blinked at him before finally nodding. "Yes Sire. But I came in as soon as it all started." 'Deep breaths,' Jason silently commanded himself. 'Take deep breaths and pull yourself together.' Minos let his hand drop and took a step back, measuring the boy up with the length of his stare. Jason could not help but feel as though his explanation had not met with the king's approval. The man's eyes were hard and suspicious.
"In any event," Minos remarked. "You clearly need a change of clothes and to spend a fair amount of time warming by a fire."
Jason gave a half nod, though he made no comment on the advice. Or had it been an order? It was hard to tell with Minos. Instead he asked: "Were you looking for me, Your Majesty?" That in itself was a little unusual – Minos normally sent a servant to find him if he requested his presence – or else his mother. Minos nodded though he had already begun to walk, forcing Jason to follow him.
"I was – to ask for your help in a matter involving these petitions." He briefly held up the papers in his hand. "But all of that can wait until you are settled." The king abruptly stopped walking, causing Jason to almost stumble into him. It took a moment longer for Jason to realise that they were standing outside his own bedroom. Without a word of invitation, the king opened the door and peered inside.
"Ah," he remarked. "Good. The fire has been lit. I shall leave you to dry out and to change and then when you are ready I should like to speak with you before dinner." Numbly, his mind still a few seconds behind the conversation, Jason nodded once more, pausing in the doorway.
A clattering of footsteps approaching from the main staircase suddenly drew their attention to the side. Minos and Jason watched as the Captain of the Guards – a reasonably adept man in his late forties, who said very little unless it was needed - approached, his expression calm but obviously intent on conveying news. Minos stepped forwards. "Captain?" he asked.
"Your Highness." The man bowed his head, one hand on his chest as he stopped in-front of the king. "We have had reports of lightning striking something within the Palace grounds and possible smoke rising. The Palace itself seems in tact but I will send men out to patrol the out-buildings. If there is a fire, the chances are the rain will see to it but the men will be sure of it nonetheless."
Though the king did not appear especially alarmed, he gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Very good, Captain. I will admit that I did wonder when I heard the crash. See that none have been injured and besides your men on patrol, keep all others inside. This storm does not show signs of letting up." As if to prove the king's words, another crash rumbled through the Palace walls.
"It was just a tree."
Jason's quiet voice almost startled Minos, who had temporarily forgotten the boy was still there. He was just on the verge of ordering the lad into his room straight away when Minos paused, Jason's words registering through his busy thoughts.
"What did you say?"
"It was just a tree," Jason repeated. "The old oak, by the entrance to the woodland at the east side of the gardens. It's split down the middle but I don't think it's burning and any way, the rain was so heavy, it wouldn't last long." For a moment, Minos did not reply, though his eyes twitched in the corners. Jason felt again the tightness stretch across his chest as Minos sharply turned back to the guard.
"Captain – go and see to this at once."
With a short bow, the man left as instructed, striding down the corridor with large, purposeful steps. As soon as he had turned down the staircase, Minos rounded on Jason, gripping him once more around the top of his arm, but this time not so gently. "You were in the woods during this storm?" he demanded, incredulously. He gave the boy a firm shake, his eyes wide with worry. "You were there when it happened?"
Jason gulped, licking his dry lips as Minos' eyes grew even darker. "I left as soon as it started," Jason protested though his voice was not as strong as he would have liked and for some awful, humiliating reason, he felt his breath tremble and his eyes well up, entirely without his permission. What the hell was wrong with him?
"Are you injured?" Minos asked. He still had not released Jason's arm, gripping it even more tightly though it was unclear if he was aware of it or not. Jason shook his head, dismayed to feel his breathing hitch.
"It was behind me. I was well clear of it."
His stepfather narrowed his eyes. Abruptly he used his grip on Jason's arm to roughly spin the boy around eliciting a startled intake of breath from Jason. He felt the king reach for something on his back and then in his hair, gently pulling something out. Then he felt that same hand running lightly up and down his spine, assessing, probing, he presumed for injuries. When Minos turned him back around again to face him, his expression was stony, his eyes haunted. In his hand, he held up the large chunks of bark that had embedded themselves into the folds of Jason's clothes and into his matted hair. Not having realised they were there, Jason only stared dumbly at the evidence.
"Not so clear of it, it would seem," Minos remarked, darkly. Then he sighed sharply and released Jason's arm. The boy fought the urge to rub at it. "Have you no common sense?" Jason looked down to his feet. His arms wrapped themselves around his body – a comforting gesture that Minos usually disapproved of, though today he made no mention of it. Suddenly, the king sighed more gently and in calmer tones he instructed: "What matters is that you are safe. We must thank the Gods for sparing you. Had you been but a few feet behind…" He trailed off, unable to make himself finish the sentence. Shaking his head, Minos gently propelled Jason into his bedroom, stepping in after him, to stand at the threshold.
Looking at the boy now, he saw how pale and silent he was – how his trembling had not lessened, how he breathed in short gasps. "Sit down, Jason," he commanded softly. For a moment, he thought the boy hadn't heard him but after a short while he saw him move clumsily to sink down on his bed. Jason bent his head down to his chest, sitting very, very still. With awkward intent, Minos carefully approached the boy and placed a light hand on his shoulder. Jason did not look up. It seemed to Minos that he was suddenly drained of all energy as though a stopper had been pulled out of him.
"I shall send servants to your room with hot water for washing and then I shall speak to your mother. She will see you right." He patted the lad on the shoulder before stepping back from him. Weakly, aware that he had to make a response, Jason lifted his head just long enough to bring it back down again in a single nod. It seemed to satisfy Minos, however. Though as the King turned to leave, he noted the way Jason still sat, unmoving, shivering. It felt somehow wrong to simply leave him like this even in the time it would take to summon a servant to see to Jason's immediate needs. And so Minos took up the blanket, folded down at the bottom of Jason's bed. The boy was unresponsive to the movement, so much so that when Minos half lifted one corner of him, to pull the blanket free, Jason did not utter so much as an acknowledgement.
The only thing Jason was aware of was that it was some time later when he realised that king had gone, that he was still seated at the end of his bed and that he now had a blanket snugly wrapped around his shoulders, securing and warming him.
Pythagoras listened to the rain against the roof and sighed. The house used to feel more cosy with a nice fire burning and the rain outside. The three of them would sit around the fire, listening to one of Hercules' stories, sharing a cup of warmed wine, teasing one another with loving good humour. But lately, the enclosed space seemed more like a cage. Sharing any space with Hercules and his brother always set his nerves on edge. When alone with Iphicles, Pythagoras could idle or chat away his time, quite happily. But the two brothers together, even when being cordial, always crackled with tension. Fortunately, though the storm forced them all inside and made escape to the balcony impossible, Iphicles had insisted on cooking the evening meal and was currently moving about the kitchen with surprising confidence. Pythagoras turned from his seat at the table, to put another log on the fire. The light from the lamps was still good enough to work on his triangles but if his fingers grew any number, he would no longer be able to hold his stylus.
Turning back to his work, Pythagoras glanced up as a large shadow fell across his parchment. Hercules sat down next to him without preamble, plonking his cup down onto the table. Immediately, Pythagoras scrambled to move his work out of the way, frowning at his old friend though the expression went unnoticed. "Did you have a nice nap?" Pythagoras asked, a little testily, checking his work for any ring stains.
"Not a nap – just a moment of quiet contemplation."
"While snoring loudly."
"That was the wind." Hercules ignored the way his friend rolled his eyes and instead glanced over his shoulder to the kitchen. "Looks like he's cooking up enough to feed an army in there."
"Hmm," Pythagoras absently agreed, mind already half turning back to his triangles. "I imagine it will not go to waste." For a moment, an idea struck the young genius and he hastily crossed something out on his page and jotted down a long series of equations.
Hercules silently watched him work, baffled yet secretly impressed. It surely must make sense to somebody outside of Atlantis? Someone in Athens, perhaps? Hercules immediately felt his mood darken. His brother had mentioned in passing, his offer to Pythagoras and it had immediately made his blood boil. He had no right – no right whatsoever – swooping in and disrupting their perfectly ordered and comfortable lives. The sooner his ship sailed, the better. Though the storm currently raging above their heads did not promise a departure any time soon. But as Pythagoras had not brought the topic of the job offer up, Hercules didn't mention it. The less they spoke about it, the less opportunity he gave Pythagoras to mull it over. Not that he thought his young friend would ever seriously consider leaving them – he loved his friends, loved his city too much. He'd be swallowed up in a big, bustling place like Athens – taken advantage of. But still, the wrestler had to admit that the job would be more interesting to the young man than the occasional guard duty they sometimes procured here. And he would have plenty of time to work on his blasted triangles and discuss his ideas with people who actually gave a damn. The offer had to be just a little bit tempting.
"You know, Hercules?" Pythagoras suddenly said, looking up from his work, a quizzical expression on his face. "I was taking a stroll with Iphicles this morning, before the storm brew up, and he was talking about his memories of what the city used to be like. I never realised how much he loves this city- how proud he is of it." He paused, watching the bigger man carefully. Hercules' mouth had set in a firm line and the hint of worry creased his eyes. "It made me wonder," Pythagoras ventured quietly, "why he left in the first place, if he loves it so."
For a moment, the young mathematician didn't think his friend was going to answer him. Hercules glanced away, looking quickly to where Iphicles still chopped vegetables and then back down to the table top. His fingers wound themselves around the wine cup, pressing tightly. Seeing the unease it caused, Pythagoras began to feel a little guilty for asking in the first place. But his curiosity was such that he couldn't quite bring himself to take the question back. Instead he tried to wait as patiently as he could, hoping Hercules would answer. And he did, eventually, leaning in to him and speaking in a low, quiet voice.
"Iphicles was a firm supporter of the old king, of Aeson. He never held with Minos – he hates him with a passion." Pythagoras raised his eyebrows. He had grown up with Minos on the throne but he knew of a few old timers would occasionally grumble or reminisce on the old days. But never with any real malice or venom. They were just too far removed from the usurpation for passionate feelings still to be flowing. From what Pythagoras could understand, one king was very much like another.
Hercules again checked the subject of their conversation could not hear them before continuing. "I told you he was a guard? Well he was a Royal Guard in Aeson's household. He worked closely with the king – one of his personal guards."
"Well then," Pythagoras exclaimed, eyes widening. "Perhaps Jason should know? He might have stories he could tell him about the old days? From what Jason tells me, I don't think Aeson likes to dwell on his Royal past and Pasiphae certainly never mentions it, I'm sure. And I'm also sure Iphicles would like to know that Jason is the son of the man he once served."
But Hercules shook his head so forcefully, Pythagoras was afraid he might pull a muscle in his neck or dislodge a bone. "Absolutely not!" He insisted, vehemently. "Iphicles is not what you would call… rational about this matter. He's almost fanatical. If he found out who Jason is he'd launch a bloody crusade to turf Minos out and put the boy on the throne, whether Jason wanted that or not. Either that, or he'd try to put Aeson back on the throne if he found out he was still alive. And that would put Jason in danger. He'd rally half the city into marching behind him." Hercules' expression darkened grimly. "Trust me. He's got a way with words – a way of stirring folks up. He'd cause nothing but trouble, for all of us. Let's just keep our heads down until he's on his way."
He fixed his young friend with a deadly serious stare but it did not take much persuasion for Pythagoras to nod his earnest agreement. Jason had only just begun this path. To be pressured into it by someone else – into taking the throne right now or seeing his father pulled once more into the light and the world he had left behind – would be more than he could handle. No, Iphicles must not learn the truth. But, he considered, despite his fervour and his misguided intentions, the man's loyalty was touching. It was, Pythagoras considered, honourable. Could he bring himself to work for such a man? One who would leave the city he loved in honour of the king he served? Outwardly, Pythagoras let their conversation rest, as he turned his attention back to his triangles but inwardly, he realised that he could.
The next time Minos visited Jason's room several long hours had passed. He entered to find the young man sitting up in bed, swathed in blankets, now pooled around his waist and with a tray of dinner of a warm, rich beef stew and bread resting on his lap. Pasiphae had, Minos knew, not long since seen it delivered and would not be far away, intent as she would be on its later inspection. She had only left to take her own meal in her apartments – having missed dinner with Minos and Ariadne - and to give the king the privacy he requested of her, to speak to her son. The boy looked, he was glad to note, a much healthier colour, was clean and dry and had mercifully stopped his trembling. He looked tired though – very tired and the occasional cough made him wince, though he tried his best to smother each one before it could bubble up from his chest. Near to Jason's small desk, the fire crackled and popped, sending the occasional log tumbling to the bottom of the pile. It was well stoked by a servant who regularly came and went and that was just as well for the rain still lashed against the window shutters and the wind howled and moaned furiously outside.
Jason smiled shyly at him when he saw who his visitor was. Perhaps, Minos wondered, he was still a little embarrassed at the earlier scolding? The king felt a touch of guilt for how harshly he had reacted earlier but it had all been borne from worry and not anger. Hopefully, Jason would realise that.
"I am glad to see you looking better," Minos remarked as he approached. "Though I shall not delay your meal for long. However, once you have finished eating, I do believe your mother wishes for you to try to sleep so I thought it best have my talk with you while I still can."
Jason grimaced at the news though he had rather expected that an early bedtime was on the cards. "I thought as much," he remarked with a sigh. "My mother's already said I'm not to leave this bed until morning when the doctor comes back to give me more gunk to rub on my chest." His face twisted for a moment. Then he turned wide, imploring eyes on the king. "Could you talk to her?"
Minos raised an eyebrow, pausing as he made to sit in the chair stationed by the head of Jason's bed. "To what end? To take your part?" He straightened, folded his arms and treated Jason to a firmly pointed look. "It will do you little good as I happen to agree with her."
Glancing about, as if to check she was not within ear shot, Jason leaned in to Minos, saying in a low, incredulous voice: "I think she's going to post a guard outside my door to make sure I don't get up!"
"I know she's going to post a guard outside your door," Minos countered smoothly, his lips twitching as he saw the boy's mouth hang open. "After your performance during the Games last month, can you really blame her?"
Closing his mouth and sighing heavily, Jason shook his head. "No," he admitted, with the faintest of grumbles.
As Minos lowered himself onto the chair, he looked more gently at his stepson. "She has been very worried, you know. It can do no real harm to rest for a few more hours, can it?"
Jason lowered his eyes to his dinner tray, guilt weaving his way into his chest. "No. No it can't." He knew his mother had been worried. Since their earlier disagreement, he had been dreading her arrival, when the king had informed him he would be telling her. More so as it pertained to his health and in particular, to his exposure to the cold: a lecture that he had been on the receiving end of more than once. As Jason had waited in sheer trepidation for the queen to sweep into his chambers in a blaze of fury, his disorientated mind conjured up all manner of frightful images.
Yet when his door had gently opened and his mother had indeed swept into the room, far from the slap he had been expecting, or even a harsh word or an arched, impatient eyebrow Pasiphae had simply sat next to him on the bed and cupped his pale face between her hands, leaning forwards to kiss his brow and to whisper that everything was now alright. And it had been. She had left while he bathed with the warm water the servants had filled his bath with but returned later on to see him bundled into bed.
Even when his wits returned and Pasiphae had felt he was able to listen to a mild reprimand for his unwise choices, Jason had felt only her worry and her love. The two sides of Pasiphae merged seamlessly for him. She left no room for argument when she summoned the doctor to examine him, made it painfully clear that every last drop of the tonic would be drunk and every scoop of poultice applied to his chest and when Jason had asked when he might be allowed out of bed, he was left with no illusions that if he so much as put a toe out of bed without permission, that toe would be returned to him at a later date. And yet, when the doctor had gone, this same woman had sat next to him at the head of the bed, her legs stretched out in-front of her and had pulled Jason to rest against her side in a one-armed embrace. Jason had felt warm next to her, safe and she had spoken softly to him, telling him tales of the constellations, running her fingers through his mop of hair until Jason had ended up lightly dozing against her.
After a moment Jason looked back up to Minos to find the king watching him with a mixture of concern and amusement and felt abruptly embarrassed. "So, uh. What did you want to talk to me about, Your Highness?" He swallowed down another sharp cough, eyes watering from the effort.
From the folds of his robes, Minos pulled out the same rolls of documents that he had been carrying earlier and placed them on the bed, next to Jason's tray. "These are petitions from the people to the law court," he explained. Jason eyed them curiously. He was vaguely aware that Minos presided over minor disputes that arose amongst the citizens of Atlantis, usually at the end of each month. A neighbour of theirs had once lodged a petition to have their case heard in the court – something a pack of stray dogs keeping them awake at night. None of them had been surprised when each month passed by and their case was never called. But though he knew of the process, Jason had never enquired about the mechanics of it.
"What can I help with?" Jason wondered. He was still trying to get his head around Atlantean Law and Politics and doubted he would be any good whatsoever in a court room. Acrion would no doubt agree with him.
As if sensing his thoughts, Minos smiled. "The next time I shall hear cases will be the day before the Haloea at the end of the month. After this, we break for a time for the Solstice and it shall be some months before the court reopens for anything other than the most serious of cases. And those are usually brought directly before me in the Palace." Jason nodded, not adding that he knew that only too well from personal experience. "I should like, therefore, to hear only the most urgent of cases in this last session. I do not wish to leave unresolved an issue that will grow and fester and cause undue tension in the coming months." Minos shook his head, regretfully. "Unfortunately, in these inhospitable climes, patience dwindles and the people are more quick to temper."
Jason nodded his understanding. "So," he ventured, hesitantly, "did you want me to look at them?"
"Indeed. I am sure you will understand the grievances on a more…personal level than I should. I would like you to read through the petitions and suggest an order of what should be dealt with first." The king rolled his eyes. "There are some of a clearly less urgent nature than others but I trust you to know what will cause the most upset amongst the people."
Jason took a deep breath and Minos watched him carefully. "Does this seem acceptable? You know you may always ask my advice if you need it and your mother has a head for such matters, too." But Jason gave a small smile.
"No, it's fine. I don't mind. I just hope I do it right. When do you need the list by?" Jason immediately felt better, despite his lingering apprehension when he saw the relief and, perhaps also the pride, in Minos' manner. The king leaned back and smiled briefly as he stood.
"In just under two week's time I shall send out men to inform the relevant parties to prepare to be heard. Bring me your answers within a week and we shall proceed from there." Then Minos gathered up the papers and crossed the room to place them on the desk. Jason watched him go with a frown. He had been hoping to start leafing through them, curious as to what his new job entailed. The king just looked at him knowingly.
"Now, I believe you have a meal to finish and then a long night of sleep and I shall not be the one who keeps you from it." He touched the papers lightly. "These can wait until tomorrow."
Jason glanced away with a quiet sigh and a rueful smile. "Yes, Your Highness." And when it appeared that Minos still waited for some further sign from him, Jason took up his spoon again to the king's apparent satisfaction. Besides, Pasiphae would be back soon and it wasn't worth his life to delay any longer.
"Thank you for your help, Jason. I shall see you in the morning." With that, Minos left, leaving Jason to distractedly graze at his dinner before his mother's inevitable inspection.
That's it for now. I hope you enjoyed it and that you're also enjoying the new series.