“Fine,” he huffed, “they were probably very afraid. These were nobles, so—”
“Priestesses, temple attendants. Keybearers to shrines.Sheltered.”
“Exactly,” he smiled, nodding. “Most of them had never left the cities where they were born, not the women. They were manacled to be presented to the king as a show of Minoan power, but it’s likely that they were not bound on the sea crossing and did not go down to the maze in chains. These and the others like them were discovered at the base of the platform that lowered the tributes in, indicative of them being—”
“Cast off once they left the platform.”
Gwen moved away from the manacles, not liking the way they made her stomach flip, and instead raised a hand to the wall wrap around the room.
“What are all of these different colors meant to denote? You know they only talk about the Athenian sacrifices in school.”
Madoc huffed again. “Of course they did, just like they taught you that all of the tributes were eaten. Human schools are so revisionist, it’s a wonder you even learned to read.”
Gwen laughed in outrage but was hard-pressed to see the fault in his words. She had attended human schools her entire life, and despite her profession and her wealth of knowledge on the matriarchal functions across antiquity, the historical origin of her own people was never an area which she’d studied closely, as surrounded by humans as she was.
One of the most fascinating things about studying ancient cultures and civilizations, she had always thought, was finding the proof that people never really changed. Road rage and warnings against dishonest merchants, property disputes . . . it was always the same. Regardless of the species, regardless of where they had come from and when they had lived, there would always be evidence of living and loving and dying, of people fighting to get ahead and fighting harder still to keep what they had already gained, of neighbors helping neighbors, and parents loving their children.
“Sleeva said the schools here are really great,” she added, glancing over her shoulder to see his reaction to her words. “So that’s one less thing to worry about, I guess.” He gave her a knowing smile at her words, catching her around the waist and pulling her to his hip.
“You know,” he murmured, “we’re not on anyone’s time timetable. We can settle in, enjoy being newlyweds . . . no one gets a say about this other than us. And yes, Athens sent the lion’s share of the tributes as a part of their agreement with Crete, but . . . well, once word got out, the other kings wanted their own warriors. Melos, Mycenae, Korinthos, Thebes . . . they all sent tributes of their own. Now, are you going to keep interrupting and finishing my sentences?”
“You know that I am,” she laughed. “That’s what makes us such a good team.”
Once word got out?She didn’t quite understand the meaning of his words, but if the years together had taught her anything, she knew her big minotaur loved showmanship. She knew he would make his point when he was good and ready, in the most dramatic way. The museum collection would have been curated and displayed in such a way as to elicit an emotional reaction from the viewers; this she knew from her own work. Knowing her fiancé as she did, Gwen had no doubt that she would be in tears at some point during her tour.
“So they were presented to Minos in chains because he was a real dick, got it. What’s next?”
Following the pathway, she came to a long display case of helmets from Minoan and Mycenaean kingdoms, several tablets, coinage, and other bits of bronze age ephemera. Madoc swept his hand over the case, drawing her attention to the tablets first.
“Minoan relics found all over the Aegean. We know from Linear A that these tablets are an accounting of purchases made, with names attached. Once they were presented to Minos, the men were sold. Fighters, rowers —”
“Slaves,” Gwen finished for him. “All of them? The men were never sent into the labyrinth?”
“The labyrinth had no need of any men. The palace already had its own slaves and servants. The women were given as brides, and the men were sold away.”
“Mhm . . . King Minos was a dick, and here’s the evidence, part two.” She listened as he spoke excitedly over the designs of the helmets and the minuscule detailing of the coins, but her mind wandered to her own upcomingpresentation.
She had already met his family, of course, numerous times, but they’d not gotten together with their respective clans since announcing their engagement, and Gwen knew from her own family’s reaction to the news that there was a world of difference between him introducing her as his girlfriend, and introducing her as the woman for whom he planned on putting a ring through his nose.They should have seen it coming, right?She had no doubt his grandmother might very well pull out a measuring tape to gauge the width of her hips, determining her ability to carry bullish sons before giving her blessing over their nuptials.
“I got an email from the caterer this morning,” he said suddenly, his mind seeming to wander in the same direction as her own. “Just confirming everything we sent over . . . are you sure we shouldn’t put more meat options on the menu? Just as a precaution? We could always—”
“We’re giving them a chicken dish,” she cut in with a smile. He fretted endlessly over impressing the human side of her family, and it didn’t seem to matter how often she told him he had nothing to worry about. “If they’re not happy with that, they’re more than welcome to eat before they come. No, we don’t need to add more meat. More than half the guestlist is vegetarians. It’s fine as it is.”
“Your Aunt Simone is a big gossip, by your own admission. I don’t want your family thinking I’m overly controlling . . .”
She spun, the ancient coins forgotten for the moment. Her smile at the sight of him wasn’t one she could help — he was the exact same slightly rumpled dork he’d been when they’d met, confident and forthright, but he’d always had a bit of insecurity when it came to impressing humans. Professors, site managers, other anthropologists . . . and now her family. She stretched up onto her toes, wrapping her arms around his thick neck, pressing herself to his solid heat.
“My Aunt Simone is going to find something to gossip about whether or not we give her cause for it, so I say let’s do things our way and not worry about it.” His teeth caught at her ear as she nuzzled the thick hide against the side of his neck. “Okay, no more wedding talk. From either of us. We’re just getting ourselves stressed out.” Dropping from her toes, she spun again, pulling him by the hand. “No more wedding talk! Show me what’s next.”
Her breath caught as her feet turned inward, following the exhibit’s pathway, coming face-to-face with their joint preoccupation. The chiton on the mannequin was dyed a rich, vibrant purple, definitely not an everyday color, and the dark wig was crowned with a wreath of small, white flowers.
“This is how they were dressed for their presentation at the palace,” he murmured in a low voice. “The Minoan Brides. The color was a symbol of . . . well, you already know that.”
Gwen sucked in a long breath, leaning back against the solidity of his form as an arm came around her. She’d already picked out her own dress, a frothy summertime confection of royal purple chiffon with a draped bodice and cinched waist, not altogether that different from the chiton the mannequin wore.A touch ofeternity.
“This is a reproduction, of course, based on what we know from pottery and frescos. The tributes were washed and anointed with oils and dressed as brides. Presented in chains. There was a great feast. We know from the frescos there were musicians, and they were well-fed. It was quite the party.”
“It sounds like a typical wedding,” she said ruefully, leaning against him as strong arms came around her. “Speaking of musicians, did you see that message from your cousin? We need to book the music soon. We need to decide if we want a DJ or a band, or maybe both . . .”
