The Thinara King Read online

  The sound of footsteps returned to the cell holding Aridela and Helice, and there they paused. Aridela braced for the door to open. She would fly out. Before anyone could stop her, she would shred his face from his skull. She trembled with the need of it.

  She heard quiet breathing.

  That smell wafted through the hole again. What was it? Why did it adhere to him like flesh itself?

  Neither man spoke.

  The footsteps continued along the corridor and up the steps. The door squeaked then slammed.

  Helice put her face close to the hole in the door. “Themiste?”

  “He didn’t touch me.” Themiste laughed. “I frighten him.”

  Aridela sank to the dirt floor.

  Helice joined her there and held her hand. “Harpalycus boasted to me,” she said. “I can hardly believe how his evil gods assisted him; that is why I think Athene must back his scheme.”

  “What do you mean? What did he say?”

  “When he left Kaphtor after the Games, he didn’t return to his home. He sent for his father’s army and waited for them on Callisti. Themiste’s vision was true. Harpalycus seduced one of the priestesses. He didn’t tell me her name, but from what he said, I think it must have been Leiriope.”

  “She betrayed us?”

  “I think it must be as Themiste saw, that she was maddened. So many years too close to the heat and fire of Lady Athene’s anger. We were wrong to leave those women there with no companion but that poison. How differently I would do things, if I had Athene’s divine sight.”

  “Leiriope’s decisions, nor her madness, can be your fault. Tell me what Harpalycus did.”

  “He convinced Leiriope that he was Velchanos, and that the Goddess sent him to quiet the mountain. She took him to the hidden shrines in the caves. There he discovered Orseis.”

  “The high priestess,” Aridela whispered.

  Helice nodded. “He raped her upon the altar in deliberate insult. He and his men pulled down the statues and set fire to everything. He murdered Orseis and the others, all but Leiriope. He bragged that as he and his men climbed down to their ships, he looked back and saw her throw herself into one of the fire pools.”

  Aridela pictured it with nauseating clarity. Harpalycus would have laughed. He would have enjoyed watching the fire shoot up in a fiery caress then subside as it consumed her body.

  “One day,” Helice said, “the pain Harpalycus has caused will revisit him, but many, I fear, will fall before then.”

  “How did he escape the wall of water, the poison clouds, the heaving of the earth? How did he survive? Did he tell you?”

  “A divine hand sheltered him, Aridela. That is the only explanation. I know he and his army sailed west from Callisti. He claims he lost two ships. Remember our sailors who returned. They, too, were on the open sea.”

  “What part did Lycus have in all this?”

  “Lycus killed the watchman at the harbor. Harpalycus and his warriors entered the bay without raising an alarm.”

  “But how did Harpalycus even know where we were?”

  Helice shrugged then winced and rubbed her shoulder above the break in her arm. “He didn’t tell me. They must have planned this after Lycus was wounded in the labyrinth. Hatred of Chrysaleon is at the heart of this attack. Harpalycus has hated Chrysaleon for a long time, I know not why.” She paused then said, low, “If only none of these foreigners had come here. How different everything would be.”

  Aridela could think of nothing to say. There were no reassurances left. She was so cold she could hardly even shiver.

  “He waited for the day of your union,” Helice said, “when everyone would be distracted with celebration. He claims he has overthrown all our ports, and tells me that even now his men spread through every precinct, killing and burning as they go.” She dug her fingernails into her face, leaving swollen red welts. “Could he have so many warriors? If only I knew. I feel my people crying out to me to help them.”

  “I don’t understand why these barbarians must vanquish and ruin everything they see,” Aridela said.

  Helice put her good arm around Aridela’s shoulders. “If I could somehow go back to the days before all of this, I would sit in the gardens, and spend more time on the mountaintops. I would walk in the rain. I would mingle more with my people and worry less about the crops.” She tousled Aridela’s hair. “What I would do is spend more time with my children. Why do we think of these things when it is too late?”

  It seemed her hand moved absently through Aridela’s hair, but then she said, “I know you must grow your hair out. But I confess I like it this way.”

  Tears trailed down Aridela’s face.

  “We have been overly concerned with shallow things,” Helice said. “Things that don’t matter. Polished armbands, tassels on sunshades, bright jewels and pretty dyes. Since we left our wars behind and embraced peace, we’ve cared more about beauty than anything; we forgot how to look beneath it for the substance that matters. Harpalycus is a handsome man. So is Lycus. Yet see what lay beneath.”

  Aridela rested her head against her mother’s throat and closed her eyes. She was reminded of her childhood, when no one could give comfort and love as well as this woman. “I hope I can be as good a queen as you.” Yet her throat tightened, and she wondered if indeed, Helice could be partly to blame for Goddess Athene’s anger.

  Helice sighed. “My meddling has brought Kaphtor’s downfall. I deserve whatever punishment Areia Athene sends. Remember that, isoke. But you must survive. Do whatever you have to do. Will you promise?”

  “We’ll both survive. We’ll fight and win back Kaphtor. That is what I promise.”

  “Does she please you, my lord?” the eunuch asked.

  “I haven’t decided.” Harpalycus’s eyes narrowed.

  Aridela gave all her effort to hiding any sign of pain or fear.

  Two of Harpalycus’s men had torn her from her mother and dragged her to this room in the merchant’s villa. Her wrists were bound with coarse rope. Blood trickled through her hair from a cut where he struck her after she spat at him. One shoulder lay bare, as he’d ripped her tunic when he’d knocked her to the floor. The eunuch he called ‘Proitos’ stared down at her with dispassionate interest, as though she were a sheep, and he was judging the merit of her wool. Harpalycus had a different expression.

  “A prize, indeed,” Proitos said. “We shall take her to Tiryns and put her on display. All will praise your cunning strategy, your merciless strength. Harpalycus of Tiryns, the only man in the world with enough wit and skill to overthrow mighty Crete.”

  “Yes.” Harpalycus’s lips stretched into a grin. “My father might finally take measure of my accomplishments.” His gaze traveled over her, lingering on the shoulder. Those watery-blue eyes were unnerving, fish-like in their coldness. Aridela bit the inside of her cheek, setting her resolve to die with courage, to keep any fear disguised, no matter what he did.

  But she was afraid.

  Proitos said, “We will look down from Tiryns’ walls upon the old queen as she beats our dirty linens in the river. And we have the oracle. There is no doubt you will enjoy your father’s highest favor when you present her to him.”

  Screams and the horrifying din of violent carnage floated from outside the chamber. The stench of burning buildings lay heavy in the air.

  Pouring wine into a cup, Proitos added, “Though Crete has suffered much adversity, there remains no land so coveted. Under your rule, it will bring you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

  Harpalycus continued to stare at Aridela. He squatted and ran his fingers along her hairline. “These scars are new,” he said with surprisingly little spite. “It’s too bad. You’re not the beauty you once were.”

  “If only Chrysaleon had killed you.” Her voice was hoarse from the cold damp storeroom, where she’d shivered in nothing but a thin tunic. “You’re to blame for all of this, for everything.”

  “Me?” Harpalycus scowled. �
�No, my lady. Chrysaleon brought these afflictions upon you. Don’t blame me. I merely seek vengeance as any man would.”

  “Vengeance. For what?”

  Harpalycus stood. He took a hunk of grayish meat from the platter held by his man, and gnawed at it. His face hardened as he chewed; his eyes grew colder. “I remember Chrysaleon never bothered to tell you about Iros, his wife. My sister. She was insignificant to him.” He returned the meat, with a grimace, to the platter, and licked grease from his fingers. “She wasn’t insignificant to me. You will come to understand. She was more important to me than anything.”

  Uneasiness crept into Aridela’s fear. “What does she have to do with this attack upon us?”

  Harpalycus lifted his gaze from her. He squinted at something beyond her sight, and sighed.

  Proitos took up the story with a toadying bow. “The royal Princess Iros was given to Chrysaleon by my lord’s father. She was young, a mere girl, but so jealous were Chrysaleon’s citadel whores, that they had her murdered, even though she was quickened with child.”

  Harpalycus’s hands clenched. The skin whitened over his knuckles as he said softly, “My child.”

  Aridela kept her face expressionless, seeing how carefully he watched her. On Kaphtor, such things were frowned upon, but elsewhere, as in Egypt, common among royals.

  “I’ve already taken my vengeance on the priest who betrayed us, and one day, my father too will understand.” Harpalycus fell silent as his throat worked. “But first,” he said through lips as tense as his fists, “Chrysaleon, and everything Chrysaleon loves.”

  He meant to make her suffer. He wouldn’t stop until she screamed for mercy. Perhaps not even then. She saw it in his eyes.

  Many heartbeats passed. Harpalycus’s jaw relaxed as he stared at her. Some of the rage seemed to fade.

  “Were you witness to what happened on Callisti?” she asked.

  “Cursed island.” His anger flared again; she forced herself not to shrink.

  “Nothing remains but a sliver, my lady,” Proitos said. “Charybdis swallowed the rest at Lord Poseidon’s command. We were fortunate to escape. Poseidon holds my master in his hand. There is no safer place to be than at his side.”

  Harpalycus shrugged. “For a time I believed the entire earth and sky would be engulfed.” He paused, frowning. “I don’t know who or what caused such fury. I feared it was me, but if so, why do I still live? Some of my men abandoned my cause, thinking your death goddess would slaughter any who served me. But Poseidon stayed her hand. We sailed west, hard and fast. Two of my father’s ships fell behind and disappeared.” He stared, somewhat blankly, toward the far end of the room. “Pillars of fire rose out of the sea. A most fearsome cloud, hurling flames and lightning, spread across the sky. We sailed on, knowing if we hesitated, we would die. The cloud overtook us. We nearly sank beneath the weight of ash and stones piling upon the decks. In time we came to an island and harbored on the far side. We prayed and made sacrifices to Poseidon. He must have heard us and accepted our gifts, for the destruction turned away. It went east, I think, and here, to Crete.”

  He returned his gaze to her and smiled, leaving her even more apprehensive. “Aridela.” He knelt again, smoothed her hair and stroked her throat. His fingertips lingered. “Your heart beats like a bird’s,” he said. “There’s no need to be afraid. This day has been long in coming, but everything has happened as I wanted. Soon, I will announce my kingship. King in truth, not one of your sacrificial goats. Those days are gone. There will be no more sacrifices of men.”

  He bent, putting his mouth close to her cheek. “You, Aridela, will bear my children. My father doesn’t know it, but I intend to marry Themiste as well, and I will have her title. Minos. You’re surprised I’ve heard of this. But Lycus knows many secrets, and he has been generous with his knowledge. My son will rule when I die. The sons I make on you will mate with our daughters, who will be declared high priestesses. Do you understand? The ways of Egypt suit me. My line will grow strong, Poseidon will be glorified, and your goddess will be lost. Great Labyrinthos will be a monument to the Lord of Horses.” He paused, frowning. “If you bear a child too soon, I will kill it. Chrysaleon’s bastard won’t taint my line.”

  Rage overtook fear. She spat at him again.

  He closed his fist and struck her. His seal ring tore her cheek. Stars shot through her head and her ears rang. Her neck, jarred to one side, burned.

  Seizing the rope around her wrists, he rose, yanking her up with him. He held her face close to his. “You still think yourself a queen? You’re my thing—my possession. I choose the method and time of your death. You could have ruled at my side, had you not been so smitten with Chrysaleon. Aridela, my slave, you chose the wrong man.”

  He threw her down. Her skull cracked against the tiles. She faded in and out of consciousness. Flashes of color, lightning bolts, and pain made her barely aware when Harpalycus straddled her. He ripped her tunic down the front. “You will learn what it means to cross Harpalycus, King of Tiryns, of Crete, and soon, of Mycenae,” he said.

  Holding her wrists above her head with one hand, he stretched over her, pushing her legs apart. “I swore you would suffer,” he said, “when you stood in the cave and chose Chrysaleon instead of me.”

  She tried to clamp her legs together and squirm onto her side, but he wasn’t discouraged. Laughing, he pressed against her. He thrust abrasively into her unwilling flesh. She bit her lip to keep any sound from escaping, and tasted blood.

  “Queen of Crete,” he whispered. He shoved harder, deeper, panting against her face, until she thought she would die, longed for death, or at least unconsciousness. No matter how she twisted, his mouth, his wine-saturated breath, followed. He shuddered then lay still and heavy, breathing hard.

  Her empty stomach retched. Bile burned her throat.

  “Commander.” Proitos’s amused voice echoed through the tide of revulsion. “Look. Here is a new pitcher of wine. Are you thirsty, my lord?”

  Harpalycus rose and rearranged his tunic. “Take her to my chamber,” he said to his guards. “Your lives are the penalty if she escapes. I might give her to you if she does not.”

  They saluted, pulled Aridela to her feet, and dragged her from the room.

  “I have no stomach for this,” one said.

  “Nor I,” said the other. “I feel the wrath of the Lady in my bones.” His voice lowered even further. “What if the—the—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “But—”

  “I’d rather face the Solemn Ones than Harpalycus. You have seen how he enjoys making men scream.”

  They spoke freely, in the tongue of the mainland. Maybe they thought Aridela couldn’t understand. She pretended to swoon, hoping they would reveal more.

  The second guard almost dropped her in his zeal to make the sign against evil. They didn’t know what to fear more; Harpalycus or the Erinyes, the three fearsome crones, older than the earth itself, who would torture them, drive them insane for crimes committed against priestesses of Athene, against mothers and daughters.

  The first guard changed the subject. “I heard something tonight from one of the villa guards. He told me he eavesdropped on Harpalycus and his generals. King Eurysthenes has promised Harpalycus sixty ships. Eighteen hundred men.”

  “Your news is old. I heard that rumor days ago. I also heard he fashions delays and bargains for more treasure. He knows we don’t have enough men. I’ll wager he knows if he doesn’t send his ships before winter closes the sea, Harpalycus’s invasion will fail. Harpalycus is a fool. He’ll lose everything, either to the Cretans or to Eurysthenes. You know what I think? I think our master will be a rotting corpse by this time next year.”

  As they yanked Aridela up a set of stairs, the other hissed, “You’ll get us both killed with talk like that. Eurysthenes knows the more time these Cretans have to rally, the bigger the chances are they’ll find a way to defeat us. If he has any sense, he’ll take what he can g
et, as soon as he can get it.”

  Aridela welcomed the gossip between her two guards. She found she was able to concentrate on that, instead of what Harpalycus had done. She went over what she knew of mainland families and politics. Eurysthenes was the king of Pylos, one of the most powerful citadels after Mycenae. His son, Nyctimus, had once visited Kaphtor on behalf of his father, and had brought Helice many fine gifts. An educated, witty youth, he’d been popular, and had stayed for over a month making many friends, including Isandros. But before she could sort through the implications of what she’d heard, the guards stopped and rapped on a door.

  It was opened by a mainland priest who gave her a single indifferent glance before ordering the guards to prop her on the edge of the bed.

  “What are you going to do?” the first guard asked.

  “Prepare her for her coming union.” The priest dipped a sponge into a bowl of water and dabbed at the blood on her face. “King Harpalycus wants to stand before the people as her husband at daybreak. The entrails and portents warn against delay.”

  The guards fell back to the corridor as another priest came forward.

  Tearing off the remnants of her shift, the priest dropped it on the floor and laid out a flounced ceremonial skirt covered with gold disks. Beside it he placed a bodice stiff with inlaid gems and fancy embroidery.

  “She is young,” he said.

  The other shrugged. “She is queen, and soon will be a wife.”

  “I am already a wife.” Aridela spoke dully, staring at the floor.

  Both priests regarded her with surprise, but shrugged and continued their tasks.

  They arrayed her in the skirts and a belt studded with lapis and miniature ivory elephant tusks. One searched through dishes on the table until he found a pot of crimson dye. He rouged her palms, feet, and the tips of her breasts.

  When Aridela fought him, the guards were called back in to restrain her. Her strength faded. The dizziness was unrelenting. Her wounds throbbed. She couldn’t center her mind except for one thing.