“He don’t talk much,” she said. “Do you think, ma’am, that-?” She pointed to her gray, shapeless gown of lamb’s wool, more exactly to the part which concealed her breasts and, indeed, raised the question if she had any breasts to conceal.
“I think,” I said, “that you could billow the sleeves a bit and cut away the front down to here-”
Her husband’s pronouncement was terse but final. “Nope.”
The swallow reverted to blackbird. “Ain’t as if I were flat.”
“Git supper for the lady.”
Petulantly she began her preparations, but her petulance was directed at her husband, not at me. Now I was receiving covert looks from her as well as him. His said: “Style’s fine for you, not her.” Hers said: “Men got no taste for the new styles.”
Supper, if not sumptuous, was clean and nourishing. Wheaten bread without worms or mold, fresh goat’s cheese, peppercorns, and carobs from a tree in the yard. As I ate, I saw that both of my hosts, as well as the pig, were staring at me with unabashed fascination. My beauty, it would seem, appealed to the farmer, my gift to his wife, and my scent of myrrh to the pig. But all three stares asked the same question: What did I want besides a meal and a temporary place to rest? Was Tychon going to be asked to drive me into town in his oxcart? Was Chloe going to be asked to put me up until I could send for friends to fetch me home? Was Bottom going to eat less heartily with an additional mouth to feed?
“If I could just stay the night with you… I don’t even need a pallet; I’ll be on my way tomorrow.”
“Walkin’?”
“I like to walk.”
“All the way to Knossos?”
“I’ll rise early and no doubt meet a farmer bound for market.”
“I could drive you.”
I forestalled a screech from Chloe. “I wouldn’t think of it. You have your duties here on the farm. Besides, your wife is far too lovely to be left alone when there’s even the slightest risk of Achaean raiders.” (Not for nothing had I been captive to a deceitful Bee queen.) “They would steal her away to the mainland with them.”
“Pass the beer to the lady, Tychon. And give a swig to Bottom.”
I put my lips to the mouth of the skin (actually a leg, which served as the spout) and smacked with excessive pleasure. The beer was at least palatable. I had tasted worse at Moschus’s table.
“An excellent beer,” I exclaimed while Tychon dangled the leg above the snout of his pig.
“Made it hisself,” the woman volunteered, fondling her new earrings and giving him a final chance, half plea, half command, to compliment them.
“Nice.”
Her hand moved questioningly toward her breasts. “Nope. Some things is best left indoors.” It was his longest communication.
The moment seemed propitious for my next move. Thievery, I was learning, could be fun. No wonder the Bee queens cultivated the art.
“And there’s something else I managed to save,” I said, reaching into my pouch, which was made of the sturdiest leather; though perforated with tiny holes, and drew out two-Striges! Yes, I had borrowed them from Amber, she who had been apprehended in the theft of sandals and chastised by Chiron. Now she was eager to appease him, and of course she knew that he and I were old and devoted friends.
“By the navel of Mother Earth,” swore Chloe. “What be they?”
“Pets.” I said. “Gentle, docile, and very affectionate. Let me show you.”
They exchanged glances as if to say, “We’ll be on our guard, but what’s the harm?” and reluctantly permitted me to coil a Strige around each of their necks.
Tychon grinned and relaxed his stomach.
“Tickles.”
If he looked a little less like a sheep, I thought, I could forgive the bulge. After all, I myself am not exactly a sapling, in age or girth.
“Looks like a bit of fur,” said the wife, gazing at her reflection in the side of the pot to evaluate the combination of neckpiece and earrings and liking what she saw. You may give me credit for introducing a new feature of feminine adornment, though in later years ladies preferred their neckpieces to be inanimate.
Tychon yawned.
“Hoed too much,” Chloe volunteered. “Ain’t a boy. Tychon! Let her have the pallet.” But Tychon had already sprawled on his bed of straw and begun to snore.
She shrugged. “Works hard, sleeps hard. Never mind. Don’t talk much when he’s awake.”
I saw that we were headed for an exchange of confidences. I would no doubt be questioned about the fashions of the town, the affairs of the court. Drawing on my past visit to Knossos and what I had learned from Aeacus, I had prepared answers for all possible questions, even down to the false rumor of an indiscretion between the king and the wife of the Egyptian pharaoh’s emissary.
But she pointed to my breasts and said, “Paint your nipples, dear?”
“Always. Whoever said we can’t improve on nature? An unpainted nipple is like a green apple. Unappetizing.”
“What do you use?”
“Carmine.”
“Too dear for me.”
“Had you thought of a vegetable dye? I’ve even made do with the juice of wild strawberries.”
But she had slid as quietly to the floor as an empty gown sliding from a wall hook.
Remembering my own unpleasant experience with those pernicious creatures, I removed the Striges before they had glutted themselves and returned them to my pouch. Then I turned to the business at hand. I could not resist a smile. Zoe, old girl, I told myself, you’re going to keep your promise to Kora.
Darkness came as stealthily as a member of Phlebas’s band bent on theft, and I felt in league with the night, bent upon my own machinations, however benign, and hugely enjoying the adventure in spite of the hazards and the stakes. With a certain reluctance, I exchanged my elaborate gown for a shapeless gray horror which I found, of all places, in the cupboard. Now I could approach Knossos driving an oxcart and looking like a peasant woman and Chloe could mend a few tears and have a fashionable gown which for better or worse would liberate what her husband preferred to remain in captivity. Then I knelt beside Chloe to recover the earrings. Had they belonged to me, I would gladly have left them in exchange for the oxcart, but the Bee queen had lent, not given, and I must return them to her along with the Striges (which I would have liked to strangle).
However, I had underestimated the pig.
He bared his tusks and instantly transformed himself from a docile pet to a ferocious guard. In the forest, he could have passed for a wild boar. I understood why Tychon did not need a watchdog. Bottom advanced upon me with cautious but deliberate steps. Doubtless he was still making up his mind whether to gore me or ram me. Hastily I sprang to my feet. Chloe could keep the earrings so long as I got the cart. At the moment, the getting seemed in doubt. It was out of the question to implant a Strige on the back of that advancing brute. If I could only think of a bribe-
I had just seen Bottom partake of the family skin with some relish. I hastily emptied the rest of the skin into a pot, the same which had served Chloe for a mirror, and shoved it under his snout.
A moment of indecision. Was I really a threat? After all, I had left a better gown for the one I had taken and I had not stolen the earrings, merely fingered them. Furthermore, there was no reason to connect me with the sudden but not unnatural-looking sleep of his master and mistress. He sniffed, examined, partook: daintily at first, then mightily. I edged toward the door; Bottom stopped lapping. It seemed that I was still suspect. I paused. Bottom resumed his lapping.
A drunken pig is far more fastidious than, say, a drunken Moschus. Bottom finished the bowl, walked without staggering to his master’s pallet, leaned comfortably against Tychon, and joined his snores to those of his master. Fighting down the temptation to recover the earrings and risk arousing Bottom-later I could make amends to Amber-I moved out of the house to claim the cart and ox.
The ox was tethered under the lean-to beside the house. When I untethered him, he refused to budge. I coaxed, I prodded, I swore twenty oaths to the Great Mother, but I could not move him from the house. I felt like a beaver which has found a tree impervious to its teeth or, to use a comparison more fitting to my race, like a transplanted oak which has failed to take root in rocky soil.