Standard disclaimer still applies…
There aren't apologies enough for how long this chapter has taken but I am sorry. I'm struggling with this story but I have no intentions of giving it up, no matter how long and painful a process it might be! Your encouraging pms and reviews have really helped to spur me on and keep me motivated for the next chapter so thank you SO much for your support and nagging. Thank you also to Ash for the extra encouragement and to Moira, Little13Silence and my Guest who I can't thank personally. I really hope this chapter doesn't disappoint and that you enjoy it.
Chapter 5
"Jason! Wait a moment."
Jason quickly turned at the sound of the welcome, soft voice. From further down the corridor, Ariadne hurried towards him, a welcoming smile brightening her face. When she reached him, Jason slipped her hand into his and leaned down to peck her lightly on the lips. Despite its chaste nature, he still smiled at the spark that ran through his lips. Small, innocent signs of affection between them were gradually becoming less frowned upon by Minos and therefore more frequent between them. Often in the evenings they would sit with each other in the family's private chambers, Ariadne leaning back comfortably against his chest as they talked or played a game, quietly laughing. Sometimes either Minos or Pasiphae was present, usually occupying their time between them somehow; sometimes they were alone. Provided they met in the family apartments and drawing rooms, Minos did not appear to mind and Pasiphae had always been their silent supporter. But Jason knew; until he made a resolute decision at the end of his year, until he chose the path of kingship with Ariadne as his future queen or at the very least agreed to continue living at the palace, no matter how much the king may approve of their union or genuinely wish them both all the happiness in the world, their courtship would remain unofficial and strictly innocent. The prevailing relationship between the princess and him would be that of stepbrother and sister until such time as Jason was ready to make his final choice. It was just one more dilemma to keep him awake at night.
"Morning," he greeted her, shooting the princess his shy, crooked smile, his head cocked to one side as he drank in the sight of her, bathed as she was in the early morning light that shone through the casements in colours of fresh, bright gold.
Ariadne smiled up at him, playing gently with the fingers that still held her own. "I see you are making it to breakfast today," she teased, raising a well-shaped eyebrow. "They will be pleased."
Jason rolled his eyes. "When I woke up this morning, after I'd fended off the doctor's visit, there was a guard about three times the size of me, waiting outside my room. And I don't think he was lost, either. I don't know his name but he's the one that just grunts and cracks his knuckles. I figured I'd be on time today."
Ariadne laughed. "I see Pasiphae is losing some of her subtlety." Pausing, she looked up at him with a wicked glint. "Although I must admit that you do not always pick up on subtle gestures." She laughed again when Jason squeezed her fingers and narrowed his eyes at her.
"Not you, too," he grumbled, in mock-hurt. He slowly resumed their journey to the dining hall and Ariadne easily fell in step beside him, their hands still joined, fingers interlaced and gently swinging. "I was hoping to see you last night," Jason remarked, glancing sideways at her as they strolled along. "Not that I don't love your father of course." He heard her sigh regretfully.
"I am sorry. I wanted to – truly. But by the time I had finished my meal and Father had spoken with you, Pasiphae said you were sleeping when I asked to visit." Jason frowned. Trust his mother to deny him the visitor he most wanted to see. Though the edict to keep away from each other's bedrooms still stood, the conditions had been relaxed to allow them to visit each other while convalescing. Not that Jason had much cause to visit Ariadne in such instances but his parents had apparently surmised that with the frequency of Jason's illnesses and injuries, the two young royals would never see each other unless compromises and allowances were made. He rolled his eyes again.
"I wasn't asleep. Pasiphae put the lamps out almost as soon as she came back for the dinner tray. It was hours before everyone else turned in." And Jason found that he rather enjoyed sharing a conspiratorial moan with a sympathetic listener so he didn't mention that he had, in actuality, slept like a log once his mother had gone.
"Well," the girl reluctantly admitted, "I cannot begrudge Pasiphae her worry too deeply." She paused and turned to look up at him with earnest, wide eyes. "I gave thanks to the Gods last night that you were spared. Had you fallen behind for only a moment…"
"But I'm fine," Jason insisted calmly, placing a warm hand on her cheek. "It was no-where near me." He grinned at her, removing his hand from her face and placing it around her slender arm. "Trust me."
Ruefully, she found herself smiling back, though it had been her intention to convey how just how seriously she regarded the near accident. However, once again it seemed, Jason had a way of disarming her. "I do," she admitted. "I just would have liked to see for myself."
"Well," he announced, once more resuming their journey and reaching the staircase, "you can see now. Not a hair out of place." Surprisingly, once he had reapplied the gloop of the doctor's onto his chest, he had been coughing far less too. It was a welcome relief, even if he could still taste the foul tonic the doctor had pressed on him that morning. He wasn't sure what purpose it was to achieve, other than to get his mother off his back. Which, thinking about it, was a worthy cause indeed.
They descended the main staircase to the grand entrance hall in silence, instinctively releasing one another's hands once they emerged into more public, crowded areas as servants hustled and bustled along, preparing the palace for the awakening royal family. Jason couldn't help but feel guilty every time he saw the way they moved, like clockwork, behind the scenes ensuring their own lives ran seamlessly, without a hitch. Every time Jason hauled himself out of bed, reluctantly, to face the day, he did so with the knowledge that for many poor souls, their day had begun hours ago and would not end until late into the evening.
Side by side, Jason and Ariadne entered the dining hall, not surprised to see the king and queen already seated, their drinks being poured beside them as platters of food quickly filled the centre of the table, one by one. Jason slid into his chair, opposite his mother, muttering a quiet 'Good morning', to his empty plate as he did so. After Ariadne had moved around the table to kiss her father good morning and mutter a terse but polite greeting to her stepmother, she came back around to seat herself next to Jason.
Minos looked up to Jason, smiling. "Your mother tells me the doctor has been back to see you this morning. He seems pleased with your progress from last night."
Jason nodded. "He was. He says I'm fit as a fiddle, Your Majesty."
"He said no such thing," Pasiphae cut in, quietly, pausing as she made to take a sip of her juice. "But as you are no longer the colour of the driven snow, we may assume that the tonic, bed-rest and poultice have had some positive affect on you." She took a measured sip before fixing her son with a meaningful, pointed look. "Let us see how long you are able to maintain such a relatively healthy disposition before any attempt to sabotage it with further random acts of recklessness."
Jason blushed deeply, and gave a light scowl, even as he heard the king chuckle. "Not my fault," he muttered quietly, steadfastly ignoring his parents' eyes and busying himself with distractedly taking bread, figs, cheeses and fruit from the various bowls and taking random bites from each.
"Come now, Pasiphae," Minos chuckled. "Let us just be glad the boy is up and about and able to join us for breakfast." Jason glanced across to Ariadne and, though she had clearly been smiling at his expense earlier, the young princess now nodded her earnest agreement which made him feel a little better. He smiled back at her.
Pasiphae sighed but when she looked back to her son, she was smiling indulgently at him. "I am indeed very glad to see you up and about," she confirmed, in gentle tones. "However," her voice hardened as she pointed a finger at him, "until you are rid of that cough, you are to stay indoors unless strictly necessary." She could not, Pasiphae knew, counter his recklessness when he left her to go to the city or to his father, but by the gods, she could do something about it while he resided under her own roof. The queen did not give time for Jason to argue with her though if Jason had something to say about it, she knew without a doubt that he would find the opportunity to tell her. Hopefully however, he possessed a smidgen of common sense on the matter. Instead she turned to her husband beside her.
"And what of your plans today, my Lord?"
Minos paused in his breakfast, a look of sudden remembrance crossing his face. "That's right," he exclaimed, softly. "The artists need to meet with us all today to discuss arrangements." The king cast his gaze about the table, sweeping in his family. He did not miss the way Pasiphae and Jason both stiffened. Jason fixed his gaze squarely upon his plate while the queen briefly tried in vain to catch her son's eye. Slightly confused, he continued nonetheless. "Can we all meet after the midday meal in the Tower? They have assured me it should not take long." Minos glanced across to Ariadne who nodded.
"Of course, Father."
"You shall not be needed in the temple?" The girl shook her head.
"Most dedications are made in the morning and Melas has assured me that he needs no help for the few supplicants who arrive in the afternoon."
"Splendid." The king turned to his wife. The woman's expression, he noted, was still tense – hesitant. "My love?" he asked, curiously. "Can you attend?"
Immediately, Pasiphae's expression morphed into a wide, gracious smile. "Certainly. I am due to inspect the kitchens this afternoon but they will need time after the demands of the luncheon, to prepare themselves. I am sure they will appreciate the brief respite." She held her husband's querulous expression a moment longer before he patted her hand and turned to his stepson. As soon as he no longer looked upon her, Pasiphae could not help the sudden weight that came over her. Her earlier conversation with her son had not been one she had recounted to her husband, though why she was not quite sure. Perhaps she did not wish Minos to think ill of the boy? Or perhaps, in her heart, she had hoped Jason would come to change his mind. But looking at him opposite her now, the determined, thin set of his mouth, the way he refused to make eye-contact with anyone around the table Pasiphae knew she had hoped in vain.
"Jason? I am not sure if you are feeling well enough for lessons today but in any event, they do not continue into the afternoon. The task I set you last night will hold off a little longer as well." He was, Pasiphae realised, the only family member that Minos had not directly asked but had simply explained his reasoning of why Jason would be there. It was not the best way to entice her son into a course of action, she thought grimly, even if he had been open to it. It surprised her: Minos usually knew her son better than that. It was easier to see the mistakes when someone else was making them, she supposed.
Opposite her, Jason cleared his throat awkwardly, briefly looking up at the king and then down again at the table, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "I can't do it," he mumbled.
Minos stopped in surprise. "Cannot do it?" he repeated, uncertainly. "Is there another matter you must attend to?"
Pasiphae watched as Jason quickly glanced up at her, a question, a plea and an accusation hidden in his eyes. She felt her own cheeks flush and immediately cursed her weakness. Quietly, she leaned across to her husband and explained: "Jason will not be part of this painting. I had not told you yet as I was…hoping his answer might change." Minos frowned in confusion, glancing between his wife and stepson, sensing the newly created tension between them.
Annoyance prickled at Jason and he shot his mother a darkening look. How like her to assume he'd give in, in the end. "Well it hasn't," he ground out, his voice rising.
"Evidently," the queen replied curtly, her own voice hardening. From beside Jason, she saw Ariadne try to catch her son's eye but the boy refused to look at any of them. Mentally, she sighed. If he would not communicate even with Ariadne, then there would clearly be no chance of negotiation with him at present. When he dug his heels in so resolutely, changing Jason's mind would be a futile task, she realised. Better to let the matter drop until her son was in a better mood, if at all. Minos, however, had darkened a little at Jason's reply and Pasiphae almost groaned when she sensed her husband sit taller in his chair and level a glare at the boy.
"Your reasons for refusing, Jason, we may discuss at a later time." Jason glanced up at him when he registered the reprimand hovering in the king's tone, his expression turning from resentful to faintly anxious. "However, you will moderate your tone of voice when speaking to your mother, without delay." Minos held Jason's gaze until the boy flushed and looked down to the table. "Is this clear?"
"Yes Sire," Jason said, quietly. Then, barely affording his mother a sparse glance, he muttered a low, "Sorry," before sinking a little lower in his chair sensing, for various reasons, the eyes of his whole family watching him intently. Abruptly, he stood. "I should get ready for Acrion." Minos and Pasiphae watched him, carefully. The meal could not have easily continued with the current tension around the table and they all understood that right now, Jason needed to create some space for himself. Flared tempers would resolve nothing. Though Jason only looked at her quickly, Pasiphae nodded wordlessly at him and Jason took that as his permission to leave, doing so as quickly as possible.
Once he had left the hall, Minos turned his confused expression on Pasiphae but before he could ask, she held up a forestalling hand, sighing sadly. "Please, let us leave this conversation until later: I do not wish to discuss it here." She did not wish to discuss it at all – her son was ashamed to be a part of his own family, to be seen and counted by her side, even in the privacy of their own home. The truth of it stung her terribly though she supposed she should not truly be surprised. She and Jason had not, after-all, had a flourishing beginning to their relationship and no matter how close they may grow, the past could never be wiped clean.
But Minos would ask, she knew. And she would have to tell him eventually. But not now and certainly not in front of Ariadne who looked on the verge of leaping out of her own seat to go chasing after her son. Propriety and her father's expectations were likely the only things keeping the girl where she sat. Pasiphae almost smiled sadly at the young princess. She would learn soon enough when to press the boy and when to give him his space. Young men could be so moody and unpredictable at times and she had, as yet, very little experience with the opposite sex and manoeuvring around the give and take of a relationship. But that would all come to her in time.
Shaking his head slightly, Minos nodded, still a touch unconvinced. "As you wish, my love." He squeezed her hand briefly before turning back to his breakfast. It was a silent signal for them all to continue, for the mini-drama to be forgotten until a later time and for their lives to continue as normal, as if they had never been interrupted. It was a comfortable, familiar avoidance that they all slipped back into, with practised ease.
As soon as Jason left the table, the guilt began to insert itself into the cracks in his anger. Snapping at his mother had, in fairness, been uncalled for. Though he still heartily disagreed with her request, he couldn't truly find fault with her handling of his reaction. She had, in fact, shown far more acceptance of his refusal than he would have given her credit for. Jason briefly thought back to the stringent expectations she had placed upon him when he first arrived at the Palace – how wary she had been that his stubbornness was a sign of a deeper, more dangerous rebellion. Would she have tolerated such defiance back then, Jason wondered? Somehow, he doubted it. No, his mother had come a long way since those first tense weeks. As Jason crossed the lavish Great Hall, he paused at the foot of the staircase. A sharp pang of melancholy struck him square in the chest. How far they had both come in these last five months. How deeply they had touched each other's hearts, shaped the other's thoughts and lives, these two, seemingly irrevocably opposite people. He loved his mother and it still surprised Jason to hear himself think it. The young man could not pin-point when this change had happened, only that he felt it every day and though it made him happy, it also made him afraid. Deeply afraid. Love could be withdrawn, withheld. It could hold him together during his dark days and it could also hurt him, intentionally or otherwise.
The young man sighed, one hand resting on the head of the banister. He had wanted to venture outside after his family spat but, perhaps in deference to his mother's wishes and perhaps because he felt he had already worried them all enough lately, Jason headed up to his room instead. Truth be told, he still felt a little tired and he had not left the dining table under entirely false pretences: he really did need to prepare for his tutorials. The scrolls had not escaped from the rain of last night as well as Jason had hoped and Pasiphae had spread them out by his fire before she had extinguished the lamps. He only prayed they had survived the procedure.
Jason trotted back up the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reached his chambers once more. Glancing into the room, he saw it had not yet been made up and gave a quiet sigh. That meant he might encounter the servants whose job it was to make his bed, clean out the ashes of last night's fire and make up a new one, ready to be lit. They would open wide his curtains and briefly open the balcony doors, airing the room. A fresh bowl of fruit would be provided for him on his dressing table, the selection changed daily, regardless of whether he had eaten anything from it or not. Jason sometimes tried to circumvent their attentions, but to no avail. He made his own bed every morning and he was not normally a bed-maker – certainly not when he returned home to Hercules and Pythagoras. But he made a point to do so, every day while at the Palace. It made no difference: whenever he returned to his room, his bed had been re-made and, he had to admit, they were much better at it than he was. Sometimes he left little notes, scribbled on corners of parchment, asking them to leave the fruit as it was but it was always replaced. It was possible those who tended his room could not read. Jason did consider it but even when he put his request to them verbally, it fell on deaf ears, so tuned as they were to the wishes of the Queen. Once, the serving girl came in to find him sweeping out his own hearth with a pan and broom that he had found outside his room. The girl had almost burst into tears, begging him not to inform the Queen or the housekeeper about the failings in her duties. At that point, after spending a good five minutes trying to calm the hysterical girl down and feeling frustratingly wretched in the process, Jason had decided that it caused far too much stress for the servants to try to do things for himself. But it still didn't stop him from occasionally trying.
However, he was in no mood today to have to try and persuade them that they weren't needed – they still looked so worried whenever they were sent away. So, moving to the fireplace, Jason quickly tested the scrolls, patting them lightly for dampness. They were dry, he found and thankfully the words were still clear. A little brittle, but they would survive. Carefully, Jason gathered them up and slid them into his satchel. He and Acrion were due to discuss the origins of the Haloea and its customs in Atlantis and, given his stepfather's amusingly adverse opinion of the festival, Jason was very curious to discover more about it.
With a small start, Jason turned his head to the sound of quiet voices outside his door. It sounded as though his room was about to be invaded by the serving girls again. Quickly he rose to his feet and grabbed his cloak. Though his study room was always kept warm and toasty with a crackling fire, the North Tower itself could be decidedly chilly. He opened his door as slowly as possible, not wanting to startle the young girls who he knew, would undoubtedly be expecting the room to be empty at this time of day. His caution went unrewarded however. The girls still let out a startled squeak, leaping back a pace.
"Sorry," Jason said, taking advantage of their shock to quickly step around them. "It's all yours – thanks." And with that, he skirted past them and off towards the staircase. The girls, both around fourteen years and unsurprisingly doe-eyed around the young, dark-haired prince, watched him disappear down the steps, then turned to each other and giggled. If the housemistress caught them indulging in such girlish, unbecoming frivolity, they would be in for a scolding and a stern lecture. But as it was, safe in their seclusion in the Royal wing, they simply sighed gently and gathered up their brooms and piles of linen, stepping inside the room.
By the time Jason returned to his chambers and deposited his bag onto his bed, though he didn't share the sentiment, he had a better understanding of why Minos hated the festival. It reminded him a little of the carnival spirit of Mardi Gras or the Notting Hill festival – but with a bit more debauchery thrown in. Minos' disapproval still amused him. The king was surprisingly open, Jason had found, to ideas and concepts that he was sure would have earned the man's disapproval so there was something quite…satisfying in finding something that his stepfather found so objectionable – that he was so affronted by. The rock music of its time; the daring fashions. It fitted, Jason realised, into one of his idle childhood impressions of the stuffy, disapproving father who he could shock with his outlandish, wild ideas. Not that he really had any intention of purposefully winding Minos up but the thought made him smile.
With a small sigh, Jason collapsed onto the bed and flopped backwards, stretching lazily, like a cat. It might have been a mistake, going to his lessons while he still felt a little drained from the night before but at the time, Jason had wanted a legitimate excuse to avoid the family for a few hours: something that could not be construed as sulking or hiding or in any way being anti-social. With a guilty start, Jason realised that this was usually the time he went to Minos' private council chambers to continue his study until lunch. He sat up and crossed his legs on the bed, looking pensively towards the closed door. His stepfather usually welcomed his presence, even though it came in the midst of the king's own peaceful ritual. But after breakfast, Jason had his doubts as to whether his welcome had been revoked. The king had been angry at his treatment of his mother and confused by his refusal to join in the family event. Jason chewed his bottom lip as his stomach tied itself in knots at the thought: he couldn't bear the thought of an interrogation on the subject by the king. The man had looked so disappointed in his decision and Jason hated disappointing people.
No. Seeing the king now was probably a mistake. Even if the man wanted to see him, it would doubtless not be for a reason that Jason wished to engage in. The next time he saw Minos he would need to come armed with something that would both please the king and hopefully distract him from thoughts of the promised continuation of that discussion. Jason cast his gaze about the room and presently, his eyes fell upon the sheaf of court papers that still sat on his desk, bound by their seal. Curiosity piqued his interest as he crossed the room and took them up. Breaking the seal carefully, sliding his thumb underneath the topmost paper, Jason slowly unwound them and spread the parchment out on his desk, moving aside the odd goblet or ink pot.
He pulled his chair up and sat down, eyes scanning through the official introduction and moving on to the parties involved and the matters arising. The content was mundane really, he quickly realised as he began to leaf through them; land disputes; ownership disputes of various objects, animals, merchandise; business arrangements that had not, at least to one party's satisfaction, been honoured. But it all faintly amazed Jason. Not the day-to-day grievances but the very nature of being privy to the lives of so many strangers before him. Here they were, all these people – his friends and neighbours – laying out their niggles and their lives on paper, waiting for someone, waiting for his stepfather, to pass judgment on them. It felt so alien, so detached and yet so intrinsically personal. The more Jason read, the deeper each grievance mattered, even the clearly ridiculous ones: they mattered to somebody – to that man whose neighbours kept him awake night after night with unnecessary revelling. For a moment, Jason saw the man from the paper manifest into a middle-aged man of flesh and blood, sitting up in bed, grinding his teeth and hammering on the floor below him with the handle of a broom. He smiled, briefly.
It ended up being quite a natural process, Jason found, moving each paper into a different pile on his desk after reading. Three piles emerged as the sheaf of papers grew steadily lower: one of obvious importance, one that could clearly wait a while longer and a smaller, indecisive pile that he would need to look over again, once he had seen where the others fitted in, to know where they belonged. He came across one about permission for a water pump in the town square and gave a small grimace, moving it straight-away to the top of the 'important' pile. The long delay in running water in the agora was causing an increased amount of grumblings and tension amongst the people from all walks of life. Jason didn't like to imagine the reactions if the petition was put back once again and this time till after the Winter break.
A wave of weariness washed over him and Jason paused to rub a tired hand over his face. He yawned widely and stretched his arms above his head, arching the base of his spine. Jason cast a quick glance over his shoulder to where his neatly made-up bed stood, invitingly. God, what he wouldn't give to collapse onto it and sleep for another couple of hours, he thought ruefully. Another yawn escaped him as well as a muggy sensation that briefly clouded his head as the room gently dipped a little. Jason frowned as he felt a sudden, deep gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach and his arms lightly trembled. Was he getting sick again? Jason narrowed his eyes as he took a quick internal assessment: he hadn't coughed in quite some time and no other parts of him seemed to be affected. Could it be hunger, he wondered? Breakfast had been rather curtailed. He grimaced. Lunch would mean seeing at least one member of his family again but that couldn't be avoided forever.
Jason sighed and leaned back in his chair, rotating his stiff neck. No, he would have to put in an appearance at some point and he may as well get it over and done with. The thought of crawling back in to bed was certainly tempting but he could manage a while longer. He looked back to the few papers left on his desk. Just a few more to sort, he decided, and then once they were in the correct pile, he would take a short break. The young man picked up the next paper and briefly struggled to refocus his eyes. The more he read of this particular petition however, the further thoughts of a mid-afternoon nap drifted from his mind, the words on the page morphing to images in his mind and finally into a stirring in his gut. Jason finished reading and sat in silence a moment, eyes drifting up to stare blankly out of the window, lost in thought. He tapped his fingers absently against his desk. Then abruptly, the young man quickly finished looking through the last few petitions and took up the third pile and divided it into the two groups. Then he stood and gathered the papers into his hands, stacking them neatly together before sliding them into his bag. The last paper, he kept separate from the others, holding it still in his hand as he left his chambers and set off for the king's study.
Minister Seminos stood tall by the imposing, polished oak table that dominated the King's private council chambers. He had not been granted permission to sit and the slight still stung him though he schooled his pointed, angular features into a mask of obliging service. Seated in his habitual place, he watched the king sigh in irritation.
"I have heard this request before and my answer has not changed since last month. I shall be sending no envoy to the lands of Egypt until the winter months have passed and the seas are once more safe for travel." His tanned face creased in annoyed bemusement. "What is it about this proclamation that the Lord Khalid finds difficult to understand? Does he wish us to perish at sea?"
Seminos nodded his earnest understanding, accompanying the gesture with a short bow. "I am sure no offence is intended, Your Majesty. Lord Khalid is not versed in our ways and does not understand the implications of his request." Minos snorted.
"For a political envoy for his country, the man shows an alarming lack of awareness for the world around him." Another sigh, this time less harsh, escaped his lips. "But increased trade between our two countries is vital if we are to continue to thrive. We must do what we can, I suppose, to build relations. They would be powerful allies indeed if Persia causes us any more problems."
Again, Seminos bowed. "As you say, My Lord: we shall do what we can to sweeten relations and with this in mind, I shall carefully convey your response to Lord Khalid." The minister hesitated a moment before taking a small breath and raising a careful eyebrow. "It is my humble understanding, Your Majesty, that the Pharaoh Raneb is blessed with three young, beautiful and charming daughters who he is anxious to make good matches for."
From where he sat, Minos leaned back in his chair, fixing a slightly harder look on his First Minister. "Indeed?"
Perhaps choosing not to heed the warning in his master's tone, Seminos pressed on. "Word is that each daughter has substantial dowry and would make a fine match for any young man." Minos stiffened. He could well imagine which young man his minister was implying would be a fine match – far away from them all in the lands of Egypt. Yes, an alliance with this powerful nation would indeed be a fine thing but this was not a conversation he was even willing to contemplate, much less with this man.
"If the Pharaoh wishes to discuss an alliance of marriage within my family, that is a matter he can present to me in private – it is not a matter to be discussed by you or by anyone else." The steel in the king's voice was unmistakable. Seminos immediately lowered his gaze and bowed once more, a little deeper this time.
"Of course, my Lord. My sincere apologies. I thought, as always, only of the good of Atlantis. I shall not make mention of the matter again." Then, ignoring the darkening of the king's eyes, he began to back away. "If you have no further need of me, my Lord?"
With an irritated flick of his wrist, Minos dismissed the man who smoothly glided out of the room. As soon as the door had softly closed, Minos tried to turn his attention back to the state papers on his desk but found that his mind was troubled and divided. He took a sip of his wine, wondering briefly how long until the midday meal and whether it would be overly indulgent to send for a tray of food to his chambers beforehand. But as his stomach turned to food, his mind turned back to his minister. He had always known of the silent animosity between Jason and Seminos. In truth, it did not bother him a great deal, provided Jason did not deliberately provoke his ministers, behaving with the decorum of a prince and that Seminos remembered his station at all times and spoke to Jason with suitable deference. In all honesty, the two spoke very little to each other which was just as well.
But now the man was implying that he should send the boy abroad? To make a marriage with a foreign bride? The notion still angered Minos. How dare he make such a suggestion? That was a matter for himself, with Pasiphae's approval, as Jason's parents to consider, if such an instance needed imagining in the first place. He had, for a short time now, thought that some travel might be good for the boy in the future – perhaps a short journey into Egypt would be beneficial to broaden the lad's horizons? But permanently? An alliance would be useful but not with Jason as the price. He was to rule Atlantis, with Ariadne at his side – the two of them, together, would be wise, strong and compassionate leaders. To send Jason away now would be utter madness. And more than that, Minos did not like to imagine what that would do to his wife, to his daughter. And to himself. He had already suffered the crushing loss of one son. To lose another was a cruelty the Gods could surely not inflict on him again?
He suddenly laughed a low, bitter laugh. How ahead of himself was he getting? Jason had made no such commitment to remain with them when his year was over. He had made no intonations that he would be willing to accept the throne of Atlantis. For all Minos knew, the boy would choose his friends, to return to his life in the city. It would crush Pasiphae; it would tear a hole through the life that suddenly seemed reanimated in the Palace. Minos tried, for a moment, to imagine a time when he would merely catch the odd glimpse of the boy – at a festival, in the court house, at a royal announcement. What would it be like, for all of them, to see each other as a face in the crowd or a distant figure on a podium? The thought made his heart ache. Although, he thought with a guilty turn, the longer Jason remained in the Palace, the greater his exposure to others became, the harder he would find it to return to his old life without repercussion, without recognition.
A knock sounded at his door. For a moment, Minos suspected Seminos had one more urgent matter to bring to his attention. He narrowed his eyes. If he made one more hint of sending Jason away, he would have a significant body part removed from him without preamble! But, he realised, the knock was wrong: it was not as self-assured as the one his First Minister would have used. A servant then.
"Come," he called out, brusquely. Already he had turned back to his work. Servants came and went frequently to tend the fire and refresh his wine. Though perhaps he would enquire as to the luncheon? He lifted his head to the door, stopping in surprise to see a hesitant Jason hanging back in the doorway, having just closed the door with a quiet click. The boy had his dark curls bowed as he lowered his gaze uncertainly to the floor. His leather bag was slung over one shoulder and in his hand, he gripped a single sheet of parchment.
"Jason?" Minos asked. "Why are you lurking in the doorway? Come in and see me properly." Minos immediately reached across to the small stool that stood nearby and drew it closer. The meaning was clear and he only hoped the boy was not going to fight him on it. Fortunately, though he moved with slightly reluctant steps, Jason complied. He did not quite drag his feet across the room but he moved cautiously as though the path between them might be littered with traps. When Jason eventually reached him, he stood for a moment, paused above the stool until Minos raised a pointed eyebrow at him.
"Are you intending to loom over me like a statue?" he asked. The question might have made Jason even more nervous but the twinkle in the king's eye and hint of amusement in his voice belied any severity. With a slight, bashful smile, Jason lowered himself onto the seat.
"Sorry," he said quietly, risking a look up into the king's eyes. "I didn't want to disturb you."
Minos regarded him carefully, his features softening. "You are usually sharing this time with me," he pointed out. "I had expected to see you after your lessons. The room has been too quiet this morning." He watched his stepson flush and duck his head once more.
"Sorry," Jason murmured again. "I was in my chambers. I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me…after breakfast, you know." He trailed off, awkwardly, eyes still lowered and clearly trying not to worry his bottom lip between his teeth. Minos watched his nervousness and sighed, gently. In some ways he felt as though he had known Jason far longer than the months that he had shared their lives. But there were days that reminded them all that it truly had not been so great a time-span. Jason was generally a fine and noble-hearted lad but on the rare occasion when he found cause to reprimand the boy or even speak firmly to him, though Jason knew how to accept the correction he was painfully unsure of his place and of his reception in the time that followed. It was a matter to work on, over time together.
Minos shook his head firmly, his tone of voice brooking no argument: "It was a matter dealt and finished with then. It is certainly no reason to keep you from my company. At least, I would hope not." Trying to catch his stepson's eye would, Minos knew, be a futile task so he simply waited for a sign of acknowledgement. It was not long before Jason rewarded his patience with a hesitant nod and a shy smile.
"Well then," the king announced, moving on briskly. "I can see you have brought something for my attention." He indicated the paper, now getting rather crumpled in the forgotten grip of Jason's hand. Immediately, Jason glanced down at it and loosened his grip, smoothing the parchment back out.
"Yes. I've brought the petitions you asked for." He withdrew the papers from his bag and handed the two piles to the king. "The top pile should really be seen before the Winter break, if you can fit them in." Minos accepted them with a slightly raised eyebrow. Jason had worked quickly on this task but then he was always an efficient worker. Perhaps, he considered, the boy needed more tasks to fulfil? Perhaps he could be challenged more? He got the impression that Jason fared better when he was occupied, when he had a clear purpose and certainly the lad possessed a keen potential that would be almost criminal to waste. He had not intended to put too much on the boy's shoulders until he was further along his path, but was this doing more harm than good? He would have to speak to Pasiphae about the matter.
But in the mean time, he looked down to the parchments in his hand, surprised to see a water pump in the agora at the top of the group. Passing over to the next, he saw a border dispute between two farmers on the outskirts of the city. Neither were, he realised, issues that he personally would have given priority to. But to question his stepson's judgment did not even occur to him and as Minos looked at the assurance in the young man's expression as he watched the king's reactions, his heart swelled with a sudden burst of pride. Clearly, his instincts about the boy's perceptiveness had been on the mark. The king nodded in thoughtful acceptance and did not miss the way some of the tension that Jason had been carrying across his shoulders began to seep out.
"Very well. I am glad to see the list is not too long. This is quite achievable in the time that we have." Jason grinned at the news. "I shall make arrangements to have the relevant parties contacted. Thank you for such prompt action." Then Minos paused, a shrewd expression in his eyes. "But why, may I ask, is one paper separate from the rest?" He watched in some amusement as Jason shifted a little uncomfortably. What had the boy dug up, he wondered? When Jason showed him the paper, he began to explain, even as Minos scanned the contents.
"There's a widow," Jason began. "She owns this farm – I guess it used to belong to her husband. Her neighbour is petitioning to have her evicted." Minos' expression betrayed no opinion on the matter either way, but he looked to Jason in a sign to continue. Jason began to feel a little silly for singling this out in the first place but as he had started, he might as well finish. He took a deep breath. "Well, her neighbour – this man Dimitri – is accusing this woman, Despina, of witchcraft, of making his crops fail." Jason paused, waiting for the king's reaction. For a moment, Minos looked back down to the petition, scanning through the contents. He could see no reason why this should be given a higher priority than others but he got the impression that it meant a lot to his stepson. Why though, he was not quite sure.
"And you want this case seen to as a matter of priority?" he clarified. Jason nodded. "Then why not just put it on the top pile with the others?" he asked, curiously. Jason often worked in strange ways but there was usually a reason behind it. Jason was looking at him with that guileless expression the boy often wore that seemed to imply that he thought the king should know the answer already.
"Well," Jason answered, hesitantly, "I just wondered what you were going to do with the case?"
Minos regarded him honestly. "I do not know," he answered. "I have not heard the case yet."
"Yes. But witchcraft? Isn't it more likely to just be bad crops?" Jason's expression held a mixture of disbelief and resentment. This was, the king realised, one of those matters in which Jason held a distinctly contrary view to many in Atlantis and his feelings on the matter ran deep. It was something to do with the place he had been raised. However, the boy was in Atlantis now and must moderate his views with some form of compromise.
"You have not heard the man's evidence," he reminded him, sternly. "We cannot dismiss such claims out of hand."
Jason ran a frustrated hand through his dark curls and held back a heavy sigh. He wants to say more, Minos realised, wants to argue and probably with some passion, inappropriate to the occasion. But the boy held himself in check – with some difficulty but still with success. Inwardly, he smiled. He had no wish to censure Jason's thoughts or feelings – the lad was entitled to them and was, within reason, allowed to express them to him. But that he was learning such self-control was admirable.
"I can see you do not agree," Minos said, raising his hands in a placating gesture when he saw Jason's anxious reaction. "It is alright – you are allowed to disagree. But I must abide by the laws of the land. I am not sure what you would have me do."
"How can this woman defend herself?" Jason asked.
"She must prove that witchcraft has not been used," the king replied.
Jason widened his eyes, incredulously. "How is anyone meant to do that?" With the scientific evidence available in his day and age, Jason thought grimly, the task would have been quite possible. But here? What chance did this widow have? Frustratingly, Minos just gave a gentle shake of his head.
"It is what she must do. If she can find men of good character to speak on her behalf as to her own good character, that will go some way. I must admit, it would probably be easier on this woman if she accepted the eviction and moved on peaceably to a new place, rather than take this to trial and risk being found guilty of witchcraft. I can offer her a small sum of compensation for the loss of her land. But you must remember that until they are heard in court, all petitions are private and must not be discussed outside of the parties involved or this palace." Jason understood the meaning immediately and he had to admit, he had been meaning to ask Pythagoras' opinion on the issue. But now that he had been warned against it, Jason had no desire to betray the trust Minos had placed in him or indeed, that these people who petitioned the courts had that their grievances would not become public gossip.
Sensing Jason's disappointment, Minos smiled at him more gently. "If you wish to help this woman, I cannot advise you further – it would not be appropriate if I am also to hear the case. But why not take some time to think on this and I may hear her case after the Winter break?"
But Jason smiled sadly back. "I don't think it can wait that long. They'll want to plant the new crops in the Spring and this man will want the issue resolved by then. I'm sure she will, too." Seeing his reasoning, the king sighed softly.
"I see your point. Very well then, I shall ensure this is heard promptly." He paused, eyeing Jason carefully. "As long as you are discrete and do not give any unfair advantage to this woman out of personal interests, I give you permission to speak to her directly." He watched a light suddenly shine in the boy's eyes and briefly wondered if that was a good omen or not. "She will need to find evidence to support her defence. You may advise her that her case is to be heard in the coming weeks and perhaps you might then assure yourself that this will be dealt with fairly."
Jason grinned. "Thank you, my Lord."
It was such a bright, easy-going and infectious grin that Minos could not help smiling back. However, he schooled his face back into a sterner mask as he pointed a warning finger at him. "Just remember your position here. You need not introduce yourself by your true title but do not approach her under false pretences – it would not bode well for the case. You are an advisor to the Court and you must remain impartial, despite your feelings. Am I clear?"
Jason nodded, earnestly. He was still grinning though and Minos just sighed again and shook his head, fondly. When the lad was excited about something, suppressing it was sometimes more trouble than it was worth. Jason had understood his message and the king was sure he would execute his duties with all due care and attention. Even though a small part of his gut – the part that housed his parental instincts - was tingling in a faint warning. Jason needed room to grow, to explore this new path he was on, to learn and to make mistakes and as his king and his stepfather, it was his job to provide the boy with such opportunities and the love and support he would need to fail and try again. But all the same, keeping a close eye on the young man would not go astray.
That's it for now. Thanks so much if you've read down to the end!