Glancing sharply at me, Atalanta added, ‘I didn’t tell you about this when you were younger because I didn’t want to give you foolish ideas.’
I nodded. That had been wise.
Her gaze returned to the fire, its light making twin moons in her eyes. ‘Now, I had been chasing down deer since I could walk. Nothing on two feet could outrun me. Still, men came from all over Greece to try. Most viewed me as an oddity or a prize they wished to claim, or as an unfortunate accompaniment to the generous dowry my father offered. But none of them could beat me.’
‘Then there was Melanion,’ I prompted.
‘Yes,’ Atalanta nodded. ‘There was Melanion. He was different. Playful instead of sullen or brutish. He danced lightly over the earth, and I knew he would never seek to claim another human being as his own. He sought me out in my father’s hall, though the other men stared at him. “I look forward to hunting with you,” he said. “I am a skilled runner but a terrible shot with a bow.” I was caught off my guard and actually laughed at his words.
‘Melanion gave me a gift before the race – a single ripe apple, gold as a queen’s treasure. They weren’t in season, and to this day I have no idea where he could have gotten it. He said he’d heard it was my favourite fruit.
‘I was half-charmed, but I kept to my oath. I faced Melanion on the track the next day, and soon I took the lead. Then something shimmered on the path before me, and my concentration wavered. I broke my stride, hurrying over to see what it was. Before me on the road were more ripe, golden apples. WhileI was distracted by them, that bastard Melanion made his way across the finish line.’
Atalanta laughed, and so did I. This was the first time I’d ever heard of my teacher losing.
‘He was always full of mischief, but I was happy. We were happy. And so we were wed. Later I had my son,’ Atalanta finished awkwardly. I waited for her to say more, but instead she looked into the fire with an expression of distant longing.
I imagined my teacher as a young woman, gazing at her husband with affection and delight. I could scarcely picture it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. I knew what it was like to be surprised by love.
‘What happened to Melanion?’ I finally asked.
Atalanta seemed to be dreading this question. She sunk in on herself, shoulders rising to her ears. For the first time in all the years I had known her, she truly looked like an old woman. ‘He died a few years after we were married. My son was still a baby, fostering with my mother’s people in far Arcadia, and Melanion and I were on a hunt for a hydra that had been spotted in the area around Thebes. He and I … offended the goddess Aphrodite, and she killed him.’
Aphrodite. The same goddess who had come to me, offering me a glimpse of my husband if only I became her servant. Now I learned she had been my teacher’s enemy first.
‘What could you have possibly done to offend Aphrodite?’ I inquired, a question I had asked myself more than once.
The old hero squinted at the fire, carefully avoiding my eyes. ‘Melanion and I … were travelling. We sought shelter in a temple of Aphrodite, as travellers do. Night came on, and we … made love, and …’
The forest tilted and whirled around me. I could not believewhat I was hearing. ‘You had sex with Melanion in a temple?!’ I demanded. How could she have been so foolish?
To my absolute astonishment, Atalanta’s ears turned red, and she covered her face with her hands. It seemed that there was no end to the shocks I would endure. My stunned incredulity faded, and I found myself laughing.
‘You’d think Aphrodite would have seen it as a thoughtful offering,’ I remarked.
Atalanta’s leathery face still tinged pink. ‘One might think so. Instead, she killed Melanion. But she permitted me to live, for reasons I cannot understand. After my son was old enough, I decided to be done with love and take to the forests.’
I thought of the child that floated in my womb, right now nothing more than the unpleasantness of nausea in the morning and a wicked edge to my appetite. One day it would be a person, standing before me. The thought filled me with both wonder and fear. I hoped I wouldn’t get us both killed before then.
‘Where is your son now?’ I asked Atalanta.
‘He is the head of the Arcadian royal guard. It’s a good position and keeps him out of trouble. If he tried to join the army that that uncle of yours is amassing at Aulis, I’d have to go there myself to slap sense into him.’
‘So you’ve heard about the expedition to Troy?’ I asked, picking at a stray thread on my blanket. ‘Agamemnon won’t be dissuaded, it seems. I wonder what my father thinks of it.’
Atalanta snorted. ‘Your father should be smart enough to put a stop to it, but sometimes men are blinded by gold. War is nothing but a waste of time. I’d go to Tiryns myself to speak with Alkaios if I had the strength.’
A thought occurred to me. Why wasn’t Atalanta in Arcadia with her son instead of here in the wilderness? Atalanta lovedher forests, but she was growing old, and pragmatism called for a more comfortable life in civilization. My teacher was nothing if not pragmatic.
Hesitantly, I asked my question. Atalanta did not answer right away. Instead, she rose from her blankets with a grunt and rummaged around in a parcel of goods sheltered by the lean-to. She pulled out a clay pipe, then a small bag of some sour-smelling herb. She resumed her seat, stuffing a pinch of herb into the pipe, and igniting it with a twig from the fire. She paused a moment before exhaling a cloud of smoke so strong it made my eyes water.
For a moment I thought she had not heard me, and I was about to repeat myself. Then she gave me a long slow look, and said, ‘Why do you think I am here, little fool?’
My mind whirled. Why would Atalanta come here to this hollow in the wilderness, like a wild animal who retreats to a quiet place at the end of its life?
‘You’re dying,’ I said.
The idea was unfathomable, unthinkable, but Atalanta confirmed my suspicions with a curt nod. ‘There is a lump, here,’ she indicated her left breast. ‘It grows, and my strength wanes. It is a common complaint, but when the disease is so far advanced the only outcome is death. And I will not die like a dog in the filth of the city streets,’ she added fiercely.
