It was bright morning when it happened, the sun dazzling silver on the water. I made my way to Tormos' side with exaggerated caution, unused to the bobbing steadiness of our craft. He looked at me with red-rimmed eyes, weary beyond words.
"Tormos," I said. My voice cracked on his name; I had lost it shouting above the pounding sea. I cleared my throat, addressing him in Illyrian. "Where are we, do you know?"
He merely looked dully at me and shook his head.
All around us, the sea sparkled in the sunlight. Dark blue, the water was, and deep. On deck, sailors moved slowly, straightening limbs cramped by long resistance to the storm. Glaukos' head and shoulders appeared in the opening of the hold as he hoisted our last cask of fresh water on deck. It seemed pitiably small. I felt light-headed, and could not remember when last I'd eaten.
"Look!"
It was Oltukh who shouted, pointing; Oltukh, who had made me necklaces of shells. We all looked and saw where he pointed, a pod of dolphins breaching the surface of the waves, sleek and grey, wearing their perpetual smiles. One spouted very near the ship, blowing a plume of spray into the air.
Asherat-of-the-Sea, I thought, loved dolphins.
"There." Glaukos' voice, for once quavering with age. He leaned over the railings, staring past the merry dolphins. "There, there! Don't you see it? Land!" His hand rose, trembling; I realized then that he had spoken in Hellene, reverting to the milk-tongue of his infancy, that his slave-mother had taught him. "Land!" he cried, pointing. "Land!"
Tormos frowned, shoving sailors out of his way. He had understood the urgency, if not the words. We all jostled for position then, gazing across the waters while our torn sails flapped mildly in the calm breeze.
There, on the horizon, lay a smudge of darkness.
Land.
We cheered, and we wept, and we set our sails for land. The rudder-bar had snapped and the rudder itself split in two under the dreadful force we had endured; still, we limped over the surface of the water, and the island before us loomed larger and larger. No Dobrek, this isle; no, it was vaster, its size deceptively diminished by distance. The nearer we got, the larger it grew, and what had seemed hills at its center became mountains, forest-shrouded and gilded in the bright sunlight.
I saw Glaukos' face, the moment he recognized it. He drew a sharp breath, and awe came over his features. He was Tiberian by rearing and Illyrian by choice, but his blood was Hellene, and what he knew, he had learnt at his mother's knee.
"It is Kriti," he said reverently. "We have come to Kriti.”
I measured our course in my head and thought, it may be so. Pure south had we been driven, down the coast of Illyria, of mainland Hellas. Had we truly come so far, that we had reached the isle of the House of Minos? I remembered Delaunay's study, maps spread on the table, awash in late afternoon sunlight. In truth, mayhap we had.
At Tormos' command, we followed the dolphins, and no one questioned it for superstition. Kazan came forth from the forecastle and watched with childlike interest, his face disturbingly blank. I took his arm, and steered him to a place of safety along the railing; he went unprotesting.
We drew near enough to make out the shape of the isle, measuring some thirty-odd leagues from tip to tip. The sides were sheer and rocky but, here and there, sandy beaches beckoned. A flock of gulls skirled above us, giving out their harsh cries; young Volos, triumphantly alive, lifted his head and gave back their raucous cries. The gulls veered landward, heading for the smallest of bays, a crescent of white sand cradled betwixt horns of stone. Half-laughing and half-weeping, Tormos ordered the ship to follow.
Deep-blue water gave way to sapphire, and our breeze died entirely. Undeterred, Tormos ordered the Illyrians to oars, and they pulled to a ragged beat as he stamped out the rhythm. Faltering yet game, ragged sails flapping emptily, we slid through the waters, until they grew shallower and turned to aquamarine.
We had entered the horns of the harbor.
Light-headed as I was, it took me a moment to realize that the sound I heard was mightier than the oarsmen's beat, echoing across the water. There is no mistaking that beat, once one hears it. It is measured to the pace of the mortal heart and it is measured out in bronze, eldest tool of the earth that ever humankind shaped to serve its need. I did not see, until we were well and truly betwixt them, the caves that riddled the horns of the harbor, layer upon stony layer, rising above us.
Then I did, and knew it was from thence that the sound of beating gongs came, and my hair rose at the nape of my neck as we glided below the caves. This was no ordinary port. We had crossed the threshold of a sacred place. So did we enter the harbor of the Temenos.
FIFTY-EIGHT
1 here were children on the beach; I had not expected that.
They greeted our arrival with eager cries, swooping like gulls over the gritty white sands as our ship ran aground in shallow water. Bemused, Tormos cast a line ashore, and a full dozen eager hands grasped it, children setting their backs to it with a will, hauling our vessel nearer to shore. It was a lucky thing the Illyrian ships had such a shallow draught, that we were able to disembark and splash our way ashore. Kazan came without assistance, and it seemed to me that there was an alertness in his face for the first time since Epidauro.
The sound of bronze gongs had ceased, and left in its wake a profound silence.Salt-stained and aching and unsteady on my legs, I waited with the others, standing on the beach and gazing at steps carved into the living rock, easing down toward the sea.
'Twould be a party of guards would meet us, I thought; one expects such a thing, landing uninvited in a foreign harbor. Instead, there came a single man, unarmed, escorted by a retinue of seven youths and seven maidens. He was of middle years, dark and bearded, with a diadem of ribbons bound around his curly hair, wearing rich robes encrusted two hand-spans deep with embroidery. One of the youths held a parasol above his head, and tasseled pearls hung from its spokes, glimmering in the sun.
"Welcome, strangers," he said in a sonorous voice, giving us greeting in Hellene. "I am Oeneus Asterius, Híerophant of the Temenos. You have passed by the wide harbors and the company of men to enter here. Mother Dia grant you welcome. Who is it among you that comes to be cleansed?"
I daresay we gaped foolishly enough; of our number, only Glaukos and I understood his Hellene speech, and neither of us knew what he meant by it.
Thus it was doubly startling when Kazan stepped forward, clear-eyed and willful.
"I am Kazan Atrabiades of Epidauro," he announced in Illyrian. "I come bearing blood-guilt for the death of my brother."
The Hierophant gazed at him with deepset eyes and nodded, then turned to one of the maidens. "Iole, fetch Mez-entius, who speaks the Illyrian tongue."
I glanced at Glaukos, who opened and closed his mouth helplessly, shocked speechless. "My lord Hierophant," I said in Hellene, pushing my damp, salt-stiffened hair back from my face and wracking my brain for the proper words. "I speak Illyrian, a little. So does this man, Glaukos of Tiber-ium," I added, nodding at him. "And my lord Atrabiades speaks Caerdicci, as well. We have had a dire journey, my lord, and it is a tale long in the telling. If you will offer us your hospitality, we can recompense you in gold."
'Twas true, too, for ragged though we were, we had in our hold half the remaining ransom; seven thousand five hundred D'Angeline ducats in gold. The Hierophant looked at me with his unblinking gaze, the way a hawk will, or a wolf, then turned to Kazan and addressed him in Caerdicci. His words came a bit more haltingly, but no less resonant. "You understand, then, where you have come?"
"Yes, son of Minos." Kazan bowed his head. "I understand, I."
Glaukos was translating for the rest of the crew, recovered enough to accomplish that much. I stared at Kazan, and something stirred in my memory; I heard again Thelesis de Mornay's voice. The Hellenes claim the descendents of the House of Minos have the ability to cleanse a man of a blood-curse; it is a gift of Zagreus. "Kazan," I said softly. "Are you certain?" For I remembered too what she had said afterward. I have heard, too, that few mortals can bear the process at less than the cost of their wits.
"Yes, Phèdre." He spoke calmly, a thinking presence restored to his features. "I am certain, I."
"Phaedra." The Hierophant drew out the word, tasting it in his mouth. "Ah. You bear..."
"... an ill-luck name," I finished for him wearily. "Yes, my lord, I know the history of your house, and the origins of my namesake. Well and so, Kazan Atrabiades has come for atonement; the rest of us are parched and hungry and tired to the bone, and there are wounded aboard the ship. Will you offer us your hospitality or no?"
A glimmer of amusement lit his dark eyes. "You are impatient, little one, but you may find a deeper truth beneath the tale you think you know. Come, and I will escort you to the Palace of the Temenos, where you may find rest and refreshment. It is my thought that the Kore will want to meet with you in addition to this supplicant, for the Children of Elua come seldom to this isle, and you bear a name of some significance. Perhaps there is more to you than meets the eye, although it is hard to say just now, bedraggled as you are."
My blood scalded my cheeks, and I bit my tongue on a tart reply. There was a hasty conference among the sailors as to what to do regarding the ship, and the Hierophant dispatched the maiden lole with instructions to bring the Illyrian-speaking Mezentius and a handful of fisherfolk from the village to aid in removing the injured men and hauling our damaged vessel ashore. I left Tormos and Glaukos in charge, with assurances that they would be lodged in the initiates' quarters and well tended to. For all his regained lucidity, Kazan showed no interest in the fate of his ship and crew.
It was a short walk to the Palace. The Hierophant proceeded at a stately pace, flanked by his initiates. Naked and near-naked children scampered around us, making a game of it; no one seemed to mind. Struggling against exhaustion and sea-wobbly legs, I made my way to the Hierophant's side, working around the youth holding his parasol, who smiled at me. Like the others, he wore a robe of unadorned white linen, so finespun it was nearly transparent.
"My lord Hierophant," I began. "If it please you, my full name is Phèdre nó Delaunay, Comtesse de Montrève, and I am on an errand of much urgency for her majesty Ysandre de la Courcel, Queen of Terre d'Ange. I fear that the storm which brought us here has set me much out of my way, and I must needs petition you for aid in addition to your hospitality; or if not you, my lord, then whomsoever you deem proper. Will you grant me audience, or offer me a letter of introduction to the appropriate party? I promise you, her majesty will render your aid well worthwhile."
In the soft shade of his parasol, he looked mildly at me. "You have come to the Temenos, little one. You have passed by the wide harbors and the company of men."
"Yes, but..."
"Phèdre." It was Kazan who had spoken. "We have come here because it is needful, eh? What is to be given will be shown."
Despairing, I gave up. The youth with the parasol glanced at me sidelong, still smiling.
So we came to the Palace of the Temenos, low and splendid by the sea, at the base of the inland mountains. It is one of the oldest palaces on the island, and one of the smallest, for all its brightly-colored splendor. A village nestled at its foot, tiny whitewashed buildings gleaming in the sun; it was thence that our escort of children ran, laughing and shouting.
The Palace itself was wholly unguarded, which seemed strange to me, for I had not yet taken the measure of the place. We passed beneath a broad gate with a crescent of horns mounted above it, and entered the Palace proper. 'Twas a different world within; winding arcades of the squat columns the Kritians dearly love, their rounded, tapering figures painted bright red and blue, with gilded capitals.
In one such, the Hierophant halted, raising his hand and addressing Kazan with great solemnity in Caerdicci. "You understand, now, that you must be secluded before undergoing the thetalos, and take neither food nor drink?" Kazan nodded firmly. "It is understood, yes." "Well and good. Proclus will tend to you, until it is time for your dedication." He waited until the initiate had led Kazan away, then turned to me. "For your part, little one, there are no such proscriptions. Euralyke will show you to a chamber, where you may rest, and refreshments will be brought to you. Perhaps a bath would be welcome, as well?" I heard a trace of amusement return to his voice, and it stung me. I thought of all I had endured to reach this place alive, and drew myself up despite the dizziness of hunger and exhaustion. "Yes, my lord," I replied coolly. "A bath would be welcome, indeed. And when I have done, if you will not grant me audience, I will seek someone who will." "No offense is intended, young Phaedra. If it is political asylum you sought, you would have gone to Kommos harbor, and not the Temenos. But it is here you have come. Your companion has a need that compels, and you ..." The Hierophant smiled. "I shall speak to the Kore of you, and we shall see."
With that, I had to be content for the moment; and in truth, I was sufficiently weary that I made no further protest. The maiden Euralyke, grave and smiling, showed me to a pleasant chamber, with frescoes of birds adorning the walls. There was a bathing room adjacent, with a tub of painted earthenware, and servants brought hot water in jugs to fill it. While I bathed, they laid out fresh clothing for me, a dress of white linen and a blue mantle, plain but fine. I sat afterward and combed out my hair, enjoying the feel of clean fabric against my skin. Food came as promised, fresh bread and sharp goat's cheese, and a lamb dish that tasted faintly of cinnamon. I ate everything, feeling the world grow more solid around me, and washed it down with cool water and a good red wine.