“What are you looking at?” I demanded.
The men exchanged uneasy glances. “It’s just that we’ve never traveled with a lady before,” Polydeuces said.
“By Artemis Far-Shooter, I’m not a lady,” I said, bristling. “Just Atalanta. An Argonaut like any one of you.”
The tension in the air dissipated as they pondered this. They had a way to categorize me now—an Argonaut like any one of you, bound to the mission we had undertaken. I was only one of the many strange things they would encounter on this journey, and in general they seemed to be pleased that I was on their side.
Most of them, anyway. “Women are unlucky on ships,” Tiphys muttered, lounging in the shadow of the mast.
My tart reply was cut off by a rumble. “I have no concern about a woman on board.” We all looked over at Heracles, who was reclining on a rolled-up sail. “I spent a year living as a woman in the court of Queen Omphale, and no one says my presence on any crew is unlucky.”
At the time, I did not know the story of how Heracles had pledged himself to Queen Omphale of Lydia in atonement for past wrongdoing, wearing her clothing and spinning her wool. There was a certain wistfulness to Heracles’s voice when he spoke of Omphale, and I had the sense that this must have been a peaceful time in a tumultuous life.
“What’s unlucky is that stinking lion skin,” Tiphys slurred, staggering to his feet. I was indeed aware of a musky odor rising from the pelt draped over Heracles’s shoulder. “I don’t care if you’re a living legend, wash it!”
But the issue of my place on theArgowas not so easily resolved. The next day, I encountered Peleus in the darkened stairway leading from the rowing benches to the open-air deck.
I’d just finished my latest shift at the oars, and my back ached. I was looking forward to catching an afternoon nap, perhaps with a blanket draped over my head to keep off the blazing rays of the sun. There were no broad-leafed trees to provide shade here on the open water, and my skin had a tendency to redden and peel if I stayed in direct sunlight too long.
A shadow blocked my way up the stairs. Peleus, the prince from Phthia, Jason’s friend. Quarters were always tight on the ship, but that did not explain why he veered so close. The rough wood of the wall rasped against my arm when I tried to draw away. Still, I didnot escape the clammy touch of one of Peleus’s hands, skimming across the roundness of my buttocks.
In a flash, my knife was at his throat. Its tip was sharp, and a few drops of blood began to trickle down Peleus’s neck.
“If you lay a hand on me again,” I said, “I will cut that hand off. Do you understand?”
Peleus, caught off guard, nodded frantically. His wide mouth and goggling eyes were almost comical.
I removed my knife from his throat, and he scrambled away into the dark below.
That evening when we made landfall, I gazed at the moon while the other Argonauts tried to find the most comfortable patches of dirt to roll out their blankets. The moon was full and glowing in a cloudless sky; reflected on the waters, her illumination made the night seem almost as bright as dawn. The moon was the symbol of Artemis, my patroness, and I always thought of Procris when I looked at her.
When Meleager wandered away toward the latrine, Jason swooped in.
He was all false smiles and hollow pleasantries, putting my teeth on edge. Jason walked with me to the edge of the encampment, away from listening ears, spouting meaningless small talk all the while. It was only then, as he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, that Jason finally shared his true reason for speaking to me.
“Peleus bears the mark of your assault,” Jason said, his brow creased in concern—not for me, but for the mannerless cur who’d touched me. “I cannot tolerate violence inflicted on one of the crew by another.”
“Peleus assaulted me first,” I snapped, my temper beginningto rise. “He grabbed my ass like I was nothing but a piece of fruit. Why not chastise Peleus for treating one of your Argonauts so disgracefully?”
“There’s no proof of what he did to you, only your word, which contradicts his. But Peleus’s throat still bears the mark of your knife.” Jason sighed heavily, as though I was being difficult. “This ispreciselythe sort of trouble I meant when I warned that your presence might prove divisive among the crew.”
Rage struck me like a dark wave. I could not believe what I was hearing, after winning my place on board and serving my turn at the oars like any other member of the crew.
“Coward,” I hissed. “What kind of leader are you, ignoring justice? If you refuse to see the truth of this, what else are you missing?”
Jason drew back, stunned.
“You claim you wish to return us safely to Greece,” I continued. “Yet you are the one putting us in danger in the first place. And when you imagine your world of justice, will it be a place for everyone, or only those who look like you?”
Jason stared at me, mouth slightly open. Without another word, he turned and walked away.
11
Medea
“How should we kill Father?” I asked Chalciope as we walked along the seashore. “Poison, perhaps, or a knife in the back?” A gust of wind blew, emerging from the sea like a horde of wrathful nymphs, snapping our clothing against our bodies and ruffling the seagrass along the dunes. Though we were far from the palace and any listening ears, I found myself glancing around anxiously. What we spoke of was treason at best; at worst, a crime against both gods and humanity. “Or perhaps I can develop a spell that will stop his heart,” I added.
“No,” Chalciope said sharply. “Don’t tarnish your gift with the stain of murder. Your mother would not have wanted it.”
