‘There aren’t many reasons I’d leave my forests and take up residence in a city,’ Atalanta said stiffly. ‘But I’ve read your letter, and I respect the word of the Oracle. I’ve never taken on a student before, though perhaps it’s time. Is this the girl?’
‘My name’sPsyche,’ I cut in, resentful of being discussed like a dog or a horse.
‘So it is. You’re young, I see,’ Atalanta said, crouching down on her haunches so that we were eye-to-eye. ‘It’s good to start young. I started training my son when he wasn’t much older than you are now. Do you know how to ride?’
‘Yes,’ I replied.
‘Do you know how to draw a bow?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you accept me as your teacher?’
There was a longer pause now. Young as I was, I knew what this meant. I knew that the woman before me would shape my destiny as surely as my mother or father. Maybe even more, because where they had given me life, she would help me make sense of it.
I could have shrunk away from Atalanta, gone back to the women’s quarters to live a quiet life. But I wanted to be what Atalanta was: a hero who commanded respect. Here was the woman who could lead me to the bright star of my destiny.
So I met her storm-grey eyes and said, ‘Yes.’
‘Then we begin tomorrow,’ Atalanta replied. And for the first time since she had set foot in the city, the hero smiled.
The next morning Atalanta took me deep into the forest, a prospect that inspired a great deal of excitement as well as a hint of trepidation. I had only ever travelled into these woods with my father and his men in boisterous procession. Now I was alone except for this near stranger. The forest was a peculiarplace where anything was possible; one might encounter a herd of centaurs or a group of nymphs bathing, or even one of the gods walking alone. But no centaurs or nymphs showed themselves today – much to my disappointment – and I quickly became bored.
I began asking Atalanta questions. ‘Did you really sail with Jason?’
‘Yes,’ my teacher replied, not turning to look at me. Her pace did not slow.
‘Did you see the Golden Fleece? What did it look like?’
‘Gold. And fleece-like.’
I had been holding the last question in reserve. ‘Is it true that you killed the Calydonian boar?’
Atalanta’s pace slowed momentarily, though she recovered quickly. ‘Yes. Meleager and I share the credit. Now stop asking stupid questions.’
Abruptly, Atalanta sat on a fallen log and patted the space next to her. ‘Come. It’s time for your first lesson. Tell me what you hear.’
I was taken aback. I was sure that we’d come here to track wild beasts or decipher the ways of the wilderness, not to sit on a mossy log andlisten. You could do that anywhere. But I wanted to learn, so I squeezed my eyes shut. I heard nothing, and I told Atalanta as much.
‘Wrong!’ my teacher snapped, so loudly that a few nearby birds took to flight. ‘If you are to slay monsters, you must be aware of your surroundings at all times. If you truly listened, you would realize that the wind is coming from the northeast, meaning that anything located to the south and west can catch your scent. You’d hear the songbirds chirping, which means they think they’re safe and all is well. Be aware of the moment whenbirds fall silent – it means something has frightened them, and that “something” might be coming for you.’
I considered this. ‘I don’t hear any nymphs or centaurs or lions,’ I offered.
Atalanta snorted. ‘That’s something. Perhaps you’ll make it as a hero after all.’
The training my father had given me, I soon realized, had merely been play; what I did now with Atalanta was work. I didn’t like it at first. For all my natural skill, I was still a pampered royal child and unaccustomed to work. Despite the pleasure I took in seeing my arrow hit its mark, I disliked being told where to aim.
From morning to night, I drilled with the bow, spear, and sword. Atalanta was a merciless teacher, and I earned more than a few bruises when I failed to deflect her swings. I hated her in those early days, and I think she began to hate me too for my stubbornness. Things might have gone badly between us had matters not come to a head one day when the chill winter rains drenched the plains of Mycenae. There was no point in ruining good bronze in the rain, so instead Atalanta sent me running laps around the city walls of Tiryns to build up my endurance.
I was miserable. My bare feet sank into the mud with each step, and cold rain drenched me down to my undergarments. I shivered uncontrollably despite my exertion, warmed only by my incandescent rage towards the figure watching me: Atalanta, arms crossed, judgmental as a statue of one of the immortal gods.
I made it once around the walls. When I circled back to where that solitary figure stood, I halted and met her gaze. ‘I’m not doing this anymore,’ I said, stamping one foot. It sank into the mud, and I was forced to pull it free with a sucking sound,which somewhat lessened the defiant air I had been aiming for. ‘I want to go inside.’
Atalanta’s expression darkened. For a moment, there was no sound but my ragged breath and the pelting rain. This woman who had killed monsters and enemy combatants began to stalk towards me, as slender and swift as a knife through the veils of rain.
I steeled myself. Atalanta was giving me the sort of stare that a wolf gives a rabbit, but I refused to be the rabbit. What was she going to do, hit me? I wasn’t scared of that. She had already hit me dozens of times around the arms and torso with wooden swords when we sparred. I kept my spine straight and waited.
Atalanta loomed directly in front of me now. ‘The monsters you hunt won’t go easy on you, and neither will I,’ she said slowly, as the downpour slicked back her dark hair. ‘Do you think wild creatures take a rest when it’s raining? Folly. This is the best time to hunt certain quarry, especially large cats or bears, since they cannot catch your scent. I killed my first lion on a day like this.’
