Now the meaning behind Father’s words was clearer.I won’t have another traitorous son-in-law scheming to take what’s mine.He had been talking about Phrixus, Chalciope’s husband.
“Father wants me to marry Absyrtos,” I blurted out. I’d been waiting to share this with Chalciope, hoping to disperse her melancholy first, but could no longer contain myself.
Chalciope made a sound of disgust. “Well, I say you won’t.”
“I won’t?” My brow creased.
“No. Because we’re going to kill Father.”
6
Atalanta
“Are you sure about this?” I hissed, looking askance at the ship and the people spread out on the beach around it. TheArgo, seeking its crew.
“Sure as anything,” Meleager replied. “A long voyage and then a joyous homecoming, it’s exactly what we need. Mother’s temper will have cooled by then. Besides, don’t you want to find your girl?”
He had a point. If there was any possibility of finding Procris, I had to take the risk. A ship bound for Colchis was the best chance I’d encountered yet.
Meleager was accepted immediately into the fellowship of theArgo, but I found my way barred by a young man still coltish with youth. He had curly hair and hazel eyes, and a face I might describe as pleasing if it belonged to someone else. There was a feeling of falsehood about him, as if everything he did was calculated to please.
“I’m afraid you cannot come aboard,” the young man said, his forehead prettily furrowed, as though it pained him to give me this news. “None of the other men are bringing their wives.”
“I am not Meleager’s wife,” I replied hotly. Really, why did everyone always assume that any man and woman close to each other were husband and wife? “And anyway, who are you to deny me?”
“I am Jason, leader of this expedition.” He looked mildly astonished. “Nor are the other men bringing their sisters—”
“I’m not Meleager’s sister either,” I snapped. “I am his friend and fellow hunter.”
“It’s true,” Meleager put in, watching the exchange between Jason and me with wry amusement. “Atalanta is a mighty hunter, and she will be a credit to your crew. Have you not heard of her fame? She joined me on the hunt for the monstrous Calydonian boar, and it was she who brought the beast down.”
A series of sense impressions rose in my memory: The scratch of bark as I scaled a tree, pulling my ankles away from the boar’s snapping teeth. The tension of the bow as I shot the creature in the eye, and the knife in my hands as I delivered the killing blow before the boar could charge Meleager. And then all the trouble that came after, when the men of the hunting party declared that I should not have the pelt that was my rightful prize, simply because I was a woman.
“Atalanta has killed lions too,” Meleager added. “Even a pair of centaurs.”
“What is your concern, Jason? If it is a matter of skill,” I began, gripping tight my spear, “know that I was nursed by bears and raised by the finest hunters in all Arcadia.”
“I mean no insult,” Jason said, looking increasingly taxed. “I merely fear for your virtue among so many men, and worry that your presence may divide the crew.”
“Myvirtue?” I echoed, eyes narrowing. What a preposterous statement, as if anything a man could do to me could possibly diminish my virtue. “You would bar me from your ship rather than demand the others behave themselves?”
My blood was up now. I remembered the names the men called me after the Calydonian boar hunt:whore,bitch,witch. Jason’s concern about my virtue was just a more polite way of voicing the same sentiments.
A crowd began to gather around us, drawn by the activity. Two slight young men glided through the air, and a man with the largest muscles I had ever seen ambled over.
An audience. At once, a plan formed in my mind: Men never liked losing in front of other men, especially to a woman.
“How about this,” I said, spinning my spear so that it moved like the wings of a hummingbird, too fast for the eye to follow. “A spear toss. If mine goes farther than yours, I will ride with you on theArgo. If you beat me, I will leave without further complaint. Hopefully such a challenge will not compromise myvirtue,” I added.
The growing crowd of Argonauts cheered. Jason paled but could not refuse, not with the others watching.
Jason went first. He launched the spear with a grunt, nearly wrenching his shoulder in the process. A child’s throw, weak and unambitious. The spear wobbled through the air, burying itself in the sand.
Someone fetched the spear and placed it in my hand. The weapon consisted of an obsidian point affixed to a polished oak shaft, crafted from a tree I’d felled myself. So familiar that it felt like an extension of my own body.
I strode forward, each step as sure as a knife thrust. My arm drew back, every sinew directed toward the point of the spear. Then release, when the weapon took like a bird into the sky, its trajectory following a wide arc and planting itself in the earth far beyond the mark left by Jason’s.
The gathered crowd roared in delight, and my lips bent into a smile.
