On her back the baby laughed and cooed, waving his little arm at the banners and bangles. She laughed with him. Even if she was more prisoner than guest, Troy was quite a sight.
Soon Hippolyta became aware that she was not the only one staring. She was drawing some curious looks herself. Sitting straighter in the saddle, she turned her head slightly to whisper back to the baby, “Be quiet. You’re the child of an Amazon queen. You’re the king’s child.” But it did not stop little Podarces from his cooing appreciation.
They passed by a marble temple, high and magnificent. Hippolyta looked for signs of which gods ruled here. Over the lintel was the face of a woman in a warrior’s helmet. Hippolyta drew in a quick, audible breath.
Dares saw her staring. “Pallas Athena,” he said. “Inside the temple is a statue of the goddess.” He smiled. “As long as the statue remains, Troy can never fall.”
“You place your safety in a woman’s hands,” Hippolyta said thoughtfully. Then surely their king will give me what I want in exchange for his son. Weapons and warriors to free my mother.
“Our king knows how to use the gods to his advantage” Dares said with surprising bitterness.
“No one uses the gods,” Hippolyta replied.
Dares didn’t answer, but his lips were like a dagger’s slash across his face.
The royal palace now lay directly before them. Compared with it, the Amazon palace was indeed little more than a hole in the ground.
The palace rose up three full stories. Garlands of flowers decorated the windows; painted shields were affixed to the walls.
“To celebrate our victories,” Lyksos pointed out, grinning and showing his bad teeth.
On one side of the courtyard Hippolyta saw a team of four enormous horses being unhitched from a golden chariot.
“The king has returned from his morning ride, I see,” said Dares. “That’ll put him in a good mood. Lucky for you, little princess.”
Hippolyta unstrapped the baby from her back and handed him down to Dares. Then she dismounted. Turning, she saw the captain staring deeply into the child’s face. She saw that he’d figured out exactly why she was here.
Without a word, Dares handed the child back to her. Then he gave his shield and helmet to Nyctos, saying, “I’ll see all of you for sword practice before the sun is half down.”
Hippolyta stared into the baby’s face, as Dares had done. Podarces looked exactly like Antiope at that age. In fact the baby looked like all of Hippolyta’s sisters: coppery hair and brown eyes. Only I am different, Hippolyta thought, being black-haired and blue-eyed. She’d never wondered about that before.
When she glanced around for Dares, he was already halfway up the steps to the entrance to the palace. He beckoned Hippolyta to follow.
She caught up with him, and they passed a line of pillars painted with lifelike eagles and serpents. Then they went through a wide doorway into an entrance hall. It too was painted, only the subjects of these walls were hunting and war.
In the entrance hall stood many men. Courtiers, she supposed, for they looked at ease and were all dressed alike, in graceful tunics with pleated skirts and high-laced sandals. Certainly not the garb of warriors.
Dares acknowledged their greetings with a curt nod and led Hippolyta on into the main body of the palace.
They walked along a gallery lined with statues: men wrestling, throwing javelins, fighting with short swords. Hippolyta tried not to stare.
Suddenly a boy came skipping around the corner. He was about nine years old, with russet hair and bright amber eyes. Eating a pomegranate and humming to himself, he was so lost in his own thoughts he almost collided with Hippolyta. She jerked aside to avoid the collision and almost lost her hold on the baby.
“Curse you!” she cried.
The boy pulled up short, swallowed a mouthful of fruit, and glared at her from heavy-lidded eyes. Then he noticed Dares.
“You’re back!” he cried.
Dares bowed, little more than a head bob really.
“Did you fight any battles?”
“No battles, Prince Tithonus,” Dares replied. “I think the Lydians are keeping to their side of the border after the ambush we caught them in last week.”
“Like you,” Hippolyta said, still angry at the boy, “the Lydians need to watch where they’re going.”
The boy turned to her, and this time he stared without any disguise. “Are you a barbarian?”
“An Amazon, my prince,” Dares said quickly.
The boy wrinkled his nose and announced loudly, “She’s dirty. Someone should give her a bath.”
“And someone should teach you manners,” Hippolyta said.
Dares gave her a warning frown, but the boy wasn’t at all put off.
“Do your men let you talk like that?” he asked. “I thought barbarians beat their women and kept them in cages.”
“We have no men,” Hippolyta answered, “and no need of them, either.”
“You’re very savage for a girl.” He considered her carefully. “Better not talk to my father that way.”
“I will if he talks to me the way you do,” Hippolyta declared. The baby in her arms began to fuss, for the sound of argument frightened him.
“Calm yourself, girl,” Dares advised. “For the baby’s sake, if not your own.”
Hippolyta shrugged him off and walked down the hall. Dares followed after her.
“How can you bow and scrape to that spoiled brat?” Hippolyta asked.
“He’s a prince,” said Dares. “You’d best remember that.”
“Well, I’m a princess,” she replied. “You’d best remember that?”
“She’s going to get in trouble, isn’t she?” Tithonus called, running after them. “I’d like to see that.”
Dares turned. “Prince Tithonus, please return to your quarters.” His voice was low and respectful, but there was no arguing with it. “Your father will want to see this girl alone.”
The boy raised his eyebrows. “Will he? I wouldn’t. She smells.”
“I don’t smell,” Hippolyta protested.
“She smells no more than any of us who’ve been out for days sleeping rough,” Dares said, keeping himself between the two. “And less than most.” He gave the boy a gentle pat on the shoulder to speed him on his way.
The prince kept glancing back as he walked away, but Dares let out a sigh of relief when the boy was finally out of sight.
Around the next corner was a pair of great doors guarded by two men carrying long and cruel-looking spears. They glowered at Hippolyta but gave way at Dares’ command, turning to push open the heavy wooden doors.
This room was even more elegant than the rest. The ceiling seemed supported by the slenderest of carved pillars. A series of mosaic tiles, arranged in patterns, made up the floor.
In the center of the room was a pool of bright blue water. There two pretty young women in delicate silken robes were dabbling their feet.
On the far side of the pool a man as golden and maned as a lion reclined on a couch. He looked up languidly, like a great beast roused from sleep, his gaze settling on Hippolyta.
“Prisoner of war, Dares?” He sounded both self-assured and amused.
“No, my king,” Dares answered, keeping his eyes firmly lowered.
The king looked searchingly at Hippolyta and the baby. Then he said, “People usually bow when they come before me.” He said it softly, but even to Hippolyta it sounded like a threat.
“I am a princess of the Amazons. I bow before no man,” she replied.
The king’s head went back, and he roared with laughter. When he laughed, the rough planes of his face resolved into something resembling beauty.
Then he stopped laughing as suddenly as he’d begun and looked at Hippolyta again, his eyes narrowing. “I know what you are, little Amazon. I have seen many of your sisters. Even loved a few. What I don’t know is why you’ve brought your little bundle here.”