Complete
Drama
Set in the early 20th century
Disclaimers:
Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, The SciFi Channel, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is written purely for my own entertainment, and that of anyone else who may happen to read it. No infringement of copyright is intended. It is not intended and should never be used for commercial purposes.
The original characters, situations and ideas contained within this work are the property of the author.
Author's Notes:
This is the first part of the Medusa series. It is followed immediately by Akrotiri.
Acknowledgements:
As ever, great thanks to Sho; who almost certainly had no idea what she was taking on when she agreed to beta read for me.
Halicarnasus, on the planet Kritos
In the valley of Halicarnasus the corn grew high and gold, grape-heavy vines tangled over the hillsides and the olive trees hunched together like gossiping old women. Far from the great cities, the Jaffa servants of the God-King Minos laboured in field and vineyard to supply his armies with food and clothing. The sun shone bright upon the valley and the rains were cool and refreshing. The brooks babbled their merry way from the mountains to the great river Aornis, which flowed on down to Knossos and thence to the sea.
In this valley, Meriope was born, the daughter of Euripides the shepherd and Dido the weaver. Her mother spent all day at her loom, for her skill was renowned and demand for her cloth was endless. Meriope's father was thus left to tend to the child alongside his flock; Euripides indulged his daughter to the point of spoiling and she grew up a wild creature.
Under Euripides' forgiving hand, Meriope roamed all along the western slopes of the valley, watched over only by the faithful sheep-dog, Argo. Such activity made young Meriope strong; being in the sun so much, her skin grew nut-brown and fair highlights were bleached in her dark hair. Her mother had been a respectable woman of good family before she defied them to marry a humble shepherd, but despite her own choice she despaired of the company her daughter kept; the bold, flirtatious shepherdesses and the vineyard hands with their soft eyes and wandering hands.
On the day that Meriope turned fourteen and underwent the prim'ta ceremony, Dido fearing for Meriope's virtue declared that her daughter would cease her wild ways and learn the weaver's craft. Learn Meriope did, but although she was happy to spend such time with her mother, it was not long before an order arrived from Knossos; fine red cloth to make a hundred cloaks for the élite of Minos' army; the Taurus Guard. Such was no work for an apprentice; Dido released her daughter and Meriope returned to her beloved slopes.
A sixteen, Dido tried once more to curb her daughter's wanderings. She bought a second loom this time and once more Meriope set to the work of a weaver without complaint. Dido swore that this time she would set aside all work save the training of her daughter, but once more an order from Knossos an order which could not be refused intervened. Minos himself commanded that the renowned Dido of Halicarnasus weave a bolt of fine cloth to adorn his favourite daughter. Such a delicate weave as was required would require all of Dido's concentration and so Meriope was released once more.
Dido began to despair of ever reigning in her daughter and she watched with trepidation as Meriope blossomed into a woman. Meriope was not so lost as her mother feared, however. The company of shepherdesses did indeed give her much knowledge of the world for so young a girl and there were many vineyard hands eager to help her put that knowledge into practice, but the lesson which she learned first and best was how to say no'. For all the kisses that she enjoyed and enjoy them she did, for her nature was as passionate as her father's as Meriope grew from wild girl to wilful woman, no man had more of her than that.
At twenty-one, Meriope was as fine a shepherdess as any in Halicarnasus. Argo was long-since retired, but his granddaughter, Cruine, served Meriope well. That was the year when Dido abandoned all hope of making her daughter respectable. Her lessons had not all been in vain, and Meriope knew how to spin and weave, but it was clear that she would never match her mother's standards. Dido reluctantly took an apprentice a niece with clever hands and good manners and gave Meriope her license to do as she would with her life.
It was in this year that Euripides first allowed his only child to accompany him to the Market.
There were many markets on Kritos, but only the Halicarnasan town of Agora played host, eight times each year, to the Market. Jaffa and humans alike came from across Kritos to trade their goods with the folk of the valley and at the great Harvest Market even the gods themselves might deign to walk among the mortals.
The Market at Agora dealt in the produce of the valley, but it was more than that. It was a time for tradesmen and artisans to advertise their services and for labourers to look for work. Apprentices were taken and marriages brokered; news was relayed and gossip exchanged. Sometimes officers of the army, even the Taurus Guard themselves, would come and choose the strongest and bravest of the young men to serve as warriors of Minos and the prettiest maidens to be their wives, or more commonly, their mistresses. At Harvest, when the gods walked among their worshippers, they would sometimes take any who pleased them to become their personal servants.
When Meriope first came down from the hills it was the Market before Harvest. She had never before set foot on the valley floor and as she walked alongside her two closest friends she could not help but stare at the golden fields and the huge beasts which grazed in the green pastures. She was unused to such wide, flat open spaces. Here and there, men rode on horses; a miraculous sight to Meriope. The ponies of the hills were too small to carry anyone but a child and each of these skilled riders seemed almost to be a part of his steed. Legend had it that the horsemen of the valley could speak the language of horses and Meriope could almost believe it.
"Do not stare, Meriope," Rathe warned. The young man was the son of Euripides' neighbour; three years older than Meriope and trusted enough to bring the early pressings of wine and olive oil to Market on his own. Meriope had always looked up to Rathe, but even he could not persuade her to mask her wide-eyed wonder.
"What are they?" Meriope asked.
"They are cows, dear heart," Nissa replied, with the patience of a loving parent. Although only a year older than Meriope she had been to five Markets already and was affecting a knowing air around her young friend. "Honestly, Meriope; if you continue to show us up like this, we shall have to avoid you."
"I am sorry," Meriope said. "I just...Oh! What is that?"
As they came closer to Agora, the roads grew thick with traffic. Meriope began to understand why each of the sheep they had brought with them had been daubed with a splash of blue dye. It would be easy for even the most cautious shepherd to lose a sheep in this press and hard to prove that one was yours, even if it showed up again.
Meriope felt subdued and excited at the same time. She wished that Rathe and Nissa could be seeing this for the first time as well, so that they could share in this feeling. Meriope also felt a growing wariness. She had never seen so many people in one place at the same time and an awful lot of them seemed to be staring at her. When she mentioned this, Rathe laughed and she felt self-conscious, ashamed of her plain dress and rustic appearance.
What Rathe saw that Meriope did not was that three hours of Dido's time had not been wasted. For all the men who had pursued her it had never occurred to Meriope that she might be beautiful, but her tangled hair had been transformed into a glossy mane; her skin had been scrubbed until it glowed; her dress was plain, but the quality of her mother's cloth spoke for itself. Not one woman in thirty in that crowd looked as fine and as elegant as Meriope.
Unable to understand the stares, Rathe's amusement, or the jealous edge which crept into Nissa's superior tone, Meriope hid herself away among the sheep. At last, Euripides, fearing his wife's anger if he allowed the sheep to nibble any more of Meriope's gown, ordered her out of the fold and sent her to fetch lunch for them both.
"The rooms at the shepherds' hall are good, but the food is slop," he told her, pressing a five sheshta coin into her hand. "I can't be seen to shun the hospitality of the hall, but no-one knows you. Be a good lass and slip across the road to the taverna; get us something good and a little to drink with it, then sneak back in."
Meriope was afraid to leave the safety of the sheep fold even to enter the shepherds' hall a building maintained by subscriptions from the hill farmers as a lodging house and guild hall let alone to go beyond it, but she obeyed. Euripides shook his head as she left, wondering what she would say when she learned that each shepherd in the hall attended to his or her own provisioning.
The taverna was an assault on Meriope's senses. The noise of the crowd was incredible; the heavy scent of the food and drink and of the people made her giddy. What was most remarkable and most alarming were the faces. Shepherd-folk whom she had known for years suddenly looked like strangers, each one closed-off and suspicious in this strange environment.
Meriope spun around at a slap on her behind, but the crowd was too dense for her to see who had done it. She was unnerved by such an impersonal assault; in the hills she had been slapped, pinched, grabbed hold of and even kissed, with neither warning nor provocation and indeed, had herself done all four to others but always the perpetrator had been plain to see and open to whatever retaliation she deemed appropriate.
Close to the counter another unseen hand pinched Meriope and as she turned her foot slipped. Still dizzy from the closeness of the air she half-fell, but a hand caught her and held her up.
"Easy there, Jaffa," a friendly voice laughed.
"I am fine!" Meriope snapped, snatching her arm back. Again she moved too fast and too violently, however. She was still off-balance and began to fall again; this time the man caught her around the waist and pulled her upright.
"No disrespect intended, I am sure," he said, steadying her on her feet before releasing her.
Meriope turned and looked her rescuer over. He was a big man with large hands, but his grip had nonetheless been gentle. His handsome face was broad and honest, but his brown eyes sparkled with a sharp intelligence and wry humour. He was smiling at her and she smiled back, feeling strangely awkward.
"I...I was dizzy," she said.
"First time at the market?"
"No," she insisted, not wanting to seem like a naοve girl. It seemed odd, but she wanted him to think well of her and Rathe and Nissa's jibes still stung.
"What do you need?" he asked, kindly.
"Supper," she replied. "For father and me."
The man turned and waved to catch the attention of the man behind the counter. The taverna keeper came over and greeted Meriope's companion like an old friend. Their speech dropped into the valley dialect as they spoke and Meriope lost the thread of their conversation almost at once. The barkeeper turned away without speaking to Meriope.
"Where is he going?" Meriope demanded. "I haven't ordered."
"Trust me," the man replied. "I know what's worth buying here. You're a shepherd, aren't you?"
"That's right," she said. "Although I can also spin and weave."
"Is the dress your own work?"
Meriope's face flamed. "No! It is just...This old thing..."
"It does not look old," he noted. "It is quite beautiful."
"Oh." Meriope was taken aback. "Well...I did sew it, but my mother wove the cloth."
He nodded. "She must be a mistress of her craft."
"She is the finest weaver in all Kritos," Meriope replied, proudly.
The barkeeper returned and laid a wrapped bundle and a clay bottle on the counter. "Two and forty," he told her.
Meriope handed him her silver coin and he returned two large, bronze sheshta pieces and a pair of copper ten-sheshti bits. "Thank you, sir," she said.
"Welcome," the barkeeper replied. He nodded to the man, then turned to another customer.
Meriope's newfound friend swept up the bundle, dropped it into his sling bag, then took Meriope by the hand and led her through the crowd to the exit. In the light of day she could see him more clearly and realised with a start that he was only a little older than her.
"That's mine," Meriope challenged, once the fresh air had cleared her head a little.
"And mine," he assured her. "I asked Talus to wrap our food together; that way he charges you what he charges me instead of the Market price."
"Give me my food," she demanded.
He smiled a kind smile. "You're very defensive for someone who has been to market so often. Let me carry your food for you and we can dine together," he suggested.
"Why?"
"Because I would very much like to break bread with you. If...If you do not mind, that is?"
Meriope felt more flustered than ever. She had known many men wish to kiss her and more than that but never had one asked to share a meal with her and her father. That was serious. She looked at him again, searching for any sign of duplicity; she found none. "N-no," she stammered at last. "I don't mind."
He breathed a sigh of pure relief. "I am honoured," he told her. "My name is Damos."
"Meriope."
Damos gave a broad smile. "Welcome to Agora, Meriope."
*
For the five days of Market, Damos was rarely far from Meriope's side. On the road home, Nissa grilled her mercilessly, probing for every detail of her time with the young farmer. For the next few days her friends teased her mercilessly about the way her face went red whenever Damos' name was mentioned. After that, something changed, however. Rathe grew surly and after a day or so this mood infected Nissa. Relations between the three friends grew tense, for no reason Meriope could identify, and it was a great relief to her when Damos himself rode up from the valley to order some cloth for his mother.
"I am told that you are the finest weaver in all Kritos," he confided in Dido as they discussed business over a light meal. "I see from the wares in your workshop that you have not been oversold."
"I am delighted that my work is appreciated," Dido replied. She turned a shrewd glance towards Meriope, who blushed. "Sometimes I have feared that the value of great weaving is lost on my daughter."
As Damos was preparing to leave, Meriope approached him, awkwardly. "I beg your pardon, Jaffa," she said, politely.
"Yes, Meriope?" he replied, then looked uncertain. "I may still call you by your name?"
"Yes! Of course, Damos."
He smiled. "Then what may I do for you, Jaffa?"
Meriope laughed. "May I..." she began. "May I ride your horse, please?"
"You had better ask her that," Damos replied.
Meriope stared at him, trying to see if he was joking, but he seemed serious and he would not allow her to mount his powerful mare until she had politely asked the horse if it would mind. The mare said nothing.
"I usually assume that means no, she wouldn't mind," Damos assured her. He offered his hands for her to step on and boosted her into the high saddle.
Almost at once, Meriope felt giddy.
"Do not cling so tight," Damos warned, as the horse fidgeted, nervously. "You will make her anxious.
"I will make her anxious?" Meriope clung a little tighter. The mare bucked, frightened by the gripping thing on her back. Meriope almost fell, but Damos caught the mare's reins, held her head gently and murmured to her. Slowly she calmed and as the horse grew calmer so to did Meriope until at last she could loosen her grip.
"Come down now," Damos suggested.
Meriope offered no argument. "You make it look so easy," she said, admiringly.
"It is not," he assured her. "Maybe I will teach you some day?"
"Maybe," she agreed.
Twenty days later, Damos returned with a cart to collect his mother's order. When Meriope went down to Agora, five days after that, she did not bother with a pretext.
Damos was unlike anyone Meriope had met before. He did not act as the shepherds and the vineyard hands did; he did not even look like them. It was said that all the people of Halicarnasus had once been one, but over the generations the vale-folk had grown taller while the hill-folk grew smaller, with those of the lower slopes being somewhere in between. There was a joke among the Halicarnasans that eventually the heights would diverge so much that the giant vale-folk would have their heads at the same height as the hill-folk, although their feet were far below. Dido came from the lower slopes and Meriope had inherited her mother's height, but Damos was tall even by valley standards. Despite his size, however, he was as gentle as a lamb; gentler, for Meriope knew how savage a panicked lamb could be. He was very attractive, once one looked past the novelty of his stature, and made no secret of his attraction towards her.
Damos seemed always to be in less of a hurry than the hill-folk. It seemed strange to Meriope; in contrast to the sedate shepherding lifestyle, a farmer always had things to do, yet he was never rushing. It was the same with her as with his work: He was generous and attentive, but although Meriope had resolved on the second day of their acquaintance that she would give herself to this man where she had resisted all others, he made no move to take advantage of her. It was only when she visited him on his father's farm in Agora that he even plucked up the courage to ask her to ask, no less for a kiss.
Damos' father had a small holding in the east of the valley, where the family grew barley, raised a small herd of milk cows and kept an orchard of apple trees. When she visited, Damos showed all of this to Meriope, leading a sedate old gelding with Meriope perched on its back. The fields were broad and yet it seemed a very small world compared to the hills. Nevertheless, it was his and Meriope loved it, because she loved him.
"Do you want me?" she asked him one day, as they sat side-by-side in the orchard.
"I love you," he replied. He put his arms around her and she felt the urgent tremble which filled her at his touch answered by a similar shudder in his breast.
She never needed to ask again.
At the Harvest Market, Dido accompanied her husband and daughter to Agora, ostensibly to sell some of her cloth. In fact the cloth was given freely to Damos' family, who in return presented Meriope's parents with several amphorae of their best cider. That night, the two families, their friends and their neighbours dined on mutton and beef, grapes and bread and barley meal, vine leaves and figs, as they feasted in celebration of the formal pledging of Damos and Meriope to one another.
Following the customs of Halicarnasus, their parents arranged all of the details of the formal stages of their marriage. They decided that, since the couple were still very young, a full engagement should not be undertaken for another five years. Until then they would only be pledged, bound by their parents' will but not by their own oaths. There would follow another five years of betrothal until the handfasting and five more before the couple were finally and irrevocably wed. Meriope took in these arrangements without much interest; in her heart they had been joined since the day they met.
Nissa was thrilled by Meriope's pledging; Rathe was less so and at last Meriope began to understand his moodiness of late. Rathe had been the first boy that she had ever kissed when she was just twelve, in the cramped confines of a tool-shed in a thunderstorm and he had pursued her on-and-off ever since, when he had not been chasing after Nissa. Meriope had considered this only fun and games, but if Rathe had been more serious then her pledging might have hit him hard. Since he had ostensibly been courting Nissa for much of the past year, that might also have explained her moods. She was greatly concerned, therefore, when Rathe could not be found on the third night of the Market.
The next day, to Meriope's great relief, Rathe returned, safe and sound.
"Where have you been?" Nissa demanded, with angry tears in her eyes.
Rathe grinned, slightly foolishly, and pulled aside his jacket. On his belt he wore a forked dagger; the mark of a warrior.
Nissa was horrified. "What have you done?" she demanded.
"I have joined the army of the God-king," he replied. "I will go to Knossos and train to be an auxiliary. If I do well, I may be picked for service in a regular company."
"Congratulations, Rathe!" Meriope exclaimed.
Nissa was rather less delighted. "Are you insane?"
"This is a great honour, Nissa," Meriope gasped. "How can you not be pleased for Rathe?"
"He is no warrior," Nissa snorted.
"Primus Arkos thinks otherwise," Rathe crowed.
"Who?" Meriope asked.
"Primus Arkos of the Taurus Guard," Rathe replied. "I think that Nissa knows him."
Nissa's face grew pale and her eyes flashed with rage. "Do not be a fool, Rathe!" she begged him. "You do not have to do this."
"What else would I do?" Rathe demanded, his air of jubilation cracking to reveal a deep bitterness. "With you in Knossos and Meriope to be wed, why would I want to stay at home?"
Meriope was taken aback. "You also are leaving?" she asked Nissa.
Nissa blushed. "Primus Arkos has asked me to return with him," she admitted. "I said yes."
"Then you also are to be married!"
Rathe gave a bitter laugh. "Not to the Primus," he assured Meriope.
Nissa's blush deepened. She made no attempt to refute Rathe's assertion; she simply turned and hurried away with what remained of her dignity.
"That was cruel," Meriope accused Rathe.
"I only spoke the truth," he replied, in a voice raw with pain.
Slowly, Meriope began to realise just how complex a web of emotions she had shattered with her pledging. To her, the youngest of the three, her friendship with Rathe and Nissa had seemed so simple. "Will you come back for my engagement?" she asked, not daring to hope. She need not have worried.
"Try to keep me away," he challenged.
Six days later, Meriope stood with her husband-to-be and watched her friends leave in the company of Arkos and his fellow Taurus Guards. She had never seen the élite before, resplendent in their bull helms, surrounded by a mantle of arrogant supremacy. Meriope prayed that her friends would be happy, but the grim splendour of Minos' royal guard gave her little cause for hope.
Meriope bid her friends farewell, and watched them go with a wistful expression which Damos was not slow to note.
"You wish that they were staying?"
"That I were going," she replied
Damos looked startled. "You would be a warrior's..."
"No!" Meriope gasped. "Oh, no. I did not mean that. I meant..." She paused, uncertain; although less shameful, her true desire must seem even more ridiculous to her husband. "I would be a warrior," she admitted at last. "This world of yours is fine and beautiful, my love, but it feels too small for me. The valley itself seems to stifle me at times."
Damos was alarmed. "Meriope..."
"It is a dream," she assured him. "A fantasy; nothing more. I would dearly love to Knossos and follow the gods across the stars, but I know it is not to be. My place is here, at Halicarnasus."
"It must seem hard to you."
"It did, once," she replied, "but now my heart dwells here." She held him close and kissed him. She had kissed so many men and yet each time her lips met Damos' it felt new and fresh; as exciting as her first, fevered kiss with Rathe, but far more comfortable and not just because she did not have a rooting trowel in the small of her back.
Meriope sighed, contentedly. "If all my dreams came true, then wherever I might travel my heart would yearn to come home to you.
*
The next five years seemed to fly past in a blur and at that fifth Harvest since their pledging, Meriope and Damos exchanged tokens and promises and were by their own wills betrothed. As their parents had decreed their union five years ago, now it was their turn. On that same day, Meriope moved into Damos' house, to live as a part of her betrothed's family for the next five years.
It was a time of joy, yet tragedy almost struck when one of the visiting warriors took a fancy to Meriope during a chance encounter in Agora. Despite her protests that she was betrothed, the warrior would not be dissuaded and tried to take Meriope for his own. Fortunately he had reckoned without a childhood spent on the slopes, fending off over-eager young men.
"You witch!" the warrior exclaimed, recoiling in pain and shock. He recovered faster than she had expected and grappled her before she could flee. She screamed and struggled but he bore down on her with his superior strength and began to drag her out of sight of the nervous witnesses. No civilian wanted to interfere with a warrior of the God-king.
"Kree, Jaffa!"
The warrior looked up and received a powerful blow to his solar plexus. He staggered away from Meriope, who recovered and flung a handful of dust into her attacker's eyes. While he was still reeling, she stepped forward and swung two punches at the Jaffa. Strong arms grabbed hold of her and pulled her back, out of the space between the houses and into the open air again.
"Witch!" her attacker roared again.
"Jaffa! Stand down!"
As Meriope calmed she saw that she had been rescued by two other warriors, one dressed as a Taurus Guard.
"Kree, Jaffa! Stand down!" The Taurus Guard repeated.
"I...Yes, Primus," the warrior said.
"Return to the camp, Jaffa. I will deal with you later."
"Yes, Primus," the warrior mumbled, stumbled away.
"My apologies, Mistress," the Primus said to Meriope. "Are you harmed?"
"Nothing permanent," Meriope assured him. "Your friend can let go of me now," she added. "I will not charge after your warrior."
"He is not my friend," the Primus said. "He is just an auxiliary. Rathe."
The arms released Meriope.
"Rathe?" she asked, turning to face him. "Rathe!" She flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
"It is good to see you, Meriope," Rathe replied. "But Primus Arkos..."
"Of course. Thank you for your assistance, Primus," Meriope said, bowing to the Taurus Guard.
"His behaviour was unworthy of a Jaffa in the service of the God-king."
"We are all servants of Minos," Meriope said, obediently.
"Of course. As you are well I shall leave you in the auxiliary's capable hands." He bowed, politely. "Jaffa."
"Primus."
The Taurus Guard left and Meriope hugged Rathe once more. "You look so grown up," she told him. "It suits you well."
"Regrets?" Rathe asked, lightly.
"None," she replied, "save that my so-called friends managed to miss my engagement."
Rathe hung his head in shame. "I am sorry, Meriope. We tried, but there was a delay on the road. There are always people along the road wanting the assistance of Minos' warriors. A group of foresters asked Primus Arkos for the assistance of the Taurus Guard in hunting down a rogue dogran."
"And the Taurus Guard delegated to you?" Meriope asked.
"Sorry."
"And what about Nissa? What's her excuse?"
Rathe beamed.
*
"Betrothed?" Meriope exclaimed.
"For two years now," Nissa confirmed, holding tight to Rathe's hand. "With our parents so far away there was no pledging."
"When will you be handfasted?" Meriope asked. "Who will stand with you?"
"Before the end of the Market," Rathe replied.
Meriope was taken aback. "So soon?"
Nissa blushed. "We have only waited so long because we agree that there is no other than you to stand with me," she added. "We want to be joined before the child is born."
"Nissa!"
"Oh, do not looked so shocked, Meriope," Nissa retorted, good-naturedly. "Did you think I would sit chaste for five years? Arkos did not take me with him for my conversation and once you have a reputation as a cron'bah, restraint becomes rather pointless. Anyway, Rathe and I had lain together long before I met Arkos."
"What?"
"You did not know?" Rathe sounded surprised. "Did you not realise that I only became a warrior so that I could follow Nissa to Knossos? I have become rather good at it."
Nissa laughed. "But do not think that he saved himself while I was with Arkos."
Meriope was scandalised. To her it was only natural that she should have saved herself for Damos and that having overcome her moment of temptation they should wait until the night of their handfasting to lie together. This being the case, she had never considered that her friends would do otherwise. Even when Nissa became a cron'bah a battle crow, as women who gave themselves to warriors out of marriage were known she had not let herself think what that meant.
"So," Meriope asked, seeking a change of subject. "When do you go back to Knossos?"
"We do not," Rathe replied. "I have not been selected as a regular and so I have been returned to the militia of Halicarnasus. I may be called up to fight, but until then I shall live here; we shall live here."
"As man and wife," Nissa added, "if you will stand by a worn-out old cron'bah, Meriope?"
"Of course I shall," Meriope replied. "I am sorry; I should have answered that first."
"Thank you," Nissa said.
"And perhaps you could do me a favour in return?" Meriope asked Rathe.
"Name it, my dear friend," he said.
"Teach me to fight."
Her friends were so quiet that Meriope could have heard a pin drop.
"I do not want to have to be rescued ever again," Meriope explained.
"I am no Jaffa master," Rathe demurred. "I can not teach you much."
"I do not ask much," she assured him. "Just teach me what you can."
*
For three years, Meriope learned how to fight; it was a welcome distraction from the dragging crawl of time. If the pledged years had flown, her betrothal crept by like a worm. Living in Damos' house, seeing him and hearing him every day, touching him without being able to take that final step was torment for Meriope. Only her love for him kept her going and only her stubborn determination to be properly and decently bound to him kept her resolve strong. In some ways it helped that his family clearly expected her to give in to her base passions; proving them wrong provided a useful challenge to focus her efforts.
After three years, Rathe was called away to fight. Meriope woke early one morning to the blare of hunting horns. She rose, saddled her horse and rode into town, where the militia were mustering. The militia was made up of local auxiliaries trained in Knossos but who had not been selected for the regular companies. At the edge of the square the militia's families were gathered; Meriope located Nissa, who held her child and watched with fear in her eyes as Rathe, armed and armoured, lined up with the other auxiliaries behind the regular who had come to summon them.
"I am so frightened," Nissa whispered, fighting to hide her fear from Rathe. "What if he never comes back? What if I have to raise Acastus alone?"
Meriope put her arms around her friend. "Never alone," she promised her. "Where are they going?"
Nissa shrugged. "They haven't bothered to tell anyone," she explained, sadly.
"Shh." Meriope hugged her friend tight. "He will be back. I promise you."
Meriope was right; Rathe did return, less than a month later, but he came back a changed man. His eyes seemed haunted, but he spoke with wonder in his voice of the world where he had fought and killed for the gods. Meriope still envied his freedom, but she saw for the first time how high a price he paid for it.
There was more as well. "I am afraid that I can no longer train you," he told Meriope. He sounded sad, but there was pride in his voice as well; and fear. "You have been an excellent student, but I have entered the service of one of the God-king's Captains. This is a great honour, but Nissa and I must move to her great hall at Akrotiri."
Meriope was disappointed, but she was delighted for Rathe and something that he had said struck her and caught her attention. "Your captain is a woman?"
Rathe nodded his head. "Some of her warriors, even her élite, are women also."
"Will you speak of me to them, Rathe?"
Rathe looked doubtful. "It might be presumptuous of me," he said.
"Please, Rathe!"
"I do not think that you would truly care for such a life, Meriope," he told her. "You are such a joyous woman; I can not believe that you were born to be a killer."
"Death is not the goal of battle," Meriope insisted.
"You are such a romantic," he told her, his voice shaking. "But I shall do as you ask."
*
Meriope heard little from Rathe and Nissa until they returned to Halicarnasus for her handfasting. It was once more a Harvest Market when the young couple stood before the priest and were joined to one another for the next five years. In that time they would live as a married couple, but either could claim a grievance and set the other aside without penalty. If no hindrance emerged they would be wed and then they would be bound together for life.
Rathe and Nissa returned without announcement on the first day of the Market and the day before the ceremony. Rathe wore the trappings of his new office, red and bronze armour which fit him like a glove; unlike his third hand militia armour. The couple must have been doing well, for Nissa's dress which matched the colours of her husband's uniform was finely tailored and cut from cloth that could only have come from Dido's loom. They brought with them their two children, Acastus and Antigone.
A third Jaffa travelled with them; a woman, young and pretty, with blue-black hair which she wore in a boyish cut. She sat with Rathe and Nissa during the ceremony of handfasting and played with their children at the feast, but her eyes always rested on Meriope. Her gaze made Meriope feel nervous; there was something weighty and portentous in it.
Not even such an exceptional stranger could long distract Meriope, however. This was the day of her handfasting and her thoughts and emotions all leaned towards Damos. She was barely away from his side all day, but tradition demanded that he take a dance with his bride-to-be's mother and once Meriope stood alone the young stranger approached her.
"I am impressed," she said. "Few couples reach the day of their handfasting so chaste. If I may be so bold, I should say that bodes well for your future."
Meriope laughed, lightly, and accepted the good wishes with a bow. She had a thousand questions for this woman who must surely be one of the warrior women Rathe had spoken of, for all that she wore a red and gold gown instead of armour but it seemed rude not to respond to such praise. "Damos' mother is a hawk," she said. "We have had no chance to do anything."
"You would have found a way," the other woman assured Meriope. "But more than that, to find a couple who have known no lovers between them is to find one of the marvels of the universe. I am Naio," she added.
Now, Meriope wanted to ask how Naio could be sure that Damos was as pure as she was. Her husband's sexual experience was a question that had haunted her sometimes and she would have breathed easier to know for sure. More than this, however, Meriope decided that she needed to know who this woman was.
"You serve the same captain as Rathe?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes. Rathe told me of you, Meriope. I was intrigued and I decided that I should see you for myself."
Meriope was taken aback. "You did?"
Naio nodded. "You seem to have the makings of a fine warrior already," she said.
Meriope's heart soared. "Then you will take me to be trained?"
"Certainly not," Naio replied.
"What?" Meriope was dismayed. "Why not?"
Naio smiled, kindly. "Your mind and heart would be here, child; with your beloved. To snatch you from your nuptial bed would cheat us all: I would have a distracted warrior; your husband would have an absent wife; and you would have a divided soul. I doubt you would ever forgive yourself for giving us less than your all."
"You know me so well?" Meriope demanded, hotly.
"I know that you have saved yourself for your wedding night in the face of considerable temptation. That tells me all that I need to know; you are not a woman who could be happy giving only a little of herself. Be patient, my dear; you are a Jaffa and your years are many. After five of those years you will be married in full; perhaps we shall speak again at that time."
*
Meriope's disappointment was short-lived. Now that they were handfasted, Meriope and Damos lived together as man and wife. From their separate rooms the couple moved into a shared bedroom and at last their long wait was over. Her wedding night was all that she had hoped and the next few months were a time of bliss.
Unfortunately, her happiness was not long to be unmarred. There was no way to know if the fault if fault there was lay with her or with Damos, but after eight months of trying it became all-too clear that as a couple at least they could never have children.
For another year they tried every remedy known to every midwife, herbalist and priest in Halicarnasus, but to no avail. Damos assured his wife that it was not important for them to have a child this soon, but Meriope found that she felt the need rather more keenly. In her desperation, Meriope donned the robes of a pilgrim and took the long road to Knossos in order to seek the blessings of the God-king. Few supplicants were received by Minos, but those who were invariably bore a child within the year.
Barefoot, Meriope laboured her way to the city and walked through the streets to the outer door of the great labyrinth that surrounded the palace. She was on the threshold of the shrine of the intercessor priests when a hand on her arm drew her back.
Meriope turned, twisting to break the grip but it held firm. She raised her fist to strike at her assailant, but froze in astonishment when she saw that the one who had seized her was Naio.
"How did you know I was here?" Meriope asked.
"I have my spies," Naio admitted, "and you are of interest to me."
"Do you wish me to remain childless?" Meriope demanded. "Do...do you fear that if I had a child I would not want to serve your Captain?"
Naio smiled. "That ambition seems less important now, does it not?"
"Tell me why you do not want me to receive the God-king's blessing!"
Naio laid a hand on Meriope's arm. She glanced around, leading Meriope's own gaze with hers. Meriope blushed to realise that everyone in the taverna was staring at her.
"What I wish is for you to remain Meriope," Naio replied, calmly. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Minos can not bless you and your husband with a child. If he sees you and I believe that your beauty will assure it he will bless' you by forcing his own seed upon you. You might well have a child but I do not think that either you or Damos would be happy with that."
For a long time, Meriope could only stare. "What?" she asked at last, shocked and baffled.
"Go home to Damos," Naio said. "I know it hurts that you can not give him a child, but you can still be happy in each other. In three years and four months I will see you again."
"There may not be a wedding," Meriope said. "If I can not bear his children then Damos would be entitled to sever our handfasting."
"It is true that this is his right," Naio admitted, "but I do not believe that he will do so. I will come whether you are married or not, but I truly believe that I will have a wedding to attend when I am next in Halicarnasus."
"This means so much to us," Meriope said. "Damos will be devastated if we can not have a family. As will I."
"I know," Naio assured her. "That is why you must go home as swiftly as possible. He will need you and you will need him." The warrior-woman pressed a heavy purse into Meriope's hand. "Travel fast, Meriope; go home and be with your love."
With Naio's money, Meriope garbed herself in a new robe and good, sturdy boots, then bought a horse and rode home to Agora. She was home within a week and all but flung herself from the saddle into her husband's arms.
"I've missed you so," he whispered into her ear. So much had he missed her that he did not ask for several hours whether her pilgrimage had been successful.
"We are not to be blessed," she replied, evasively.
Damos looked crestfallen. "Did the priests give a reason?"
Meriope shook her head.
"As the gods will it," Damos sighed.
Meriope said nothing of Naio's words, not to Damos or to anyone else. She tried to hide it, but she was sorely troubled. In search of some peace of mind, Meriope went to the one person she knew might understand: Nissa's mother, Gallia. In the early years of her own marriage, Gallia had made the pilgrimage to Knossos and gone on to bear her only child.
Gallia lived in the hills, not far from Meriope's parents. Her husband, Padam, was a shepherd who grazed his sheep on the hills to the north of Euripides' pastures and the couple dwelt in a large and comfortable house. They had built the house for the children they had wanted, but since Nissa had proven to be their only joy they let a large part of the house to one of Padam's shepherds and indulged their frustrated parental instincts with his children.
"It is good to see you," Gallia told her, hugging her tightly and leading her into the house. "We miss you in the hills, Meriope."
"I miss all of you," Meriope replied, "and I miss the hills, but my home is with Damos."
Gallia sat the younger woman down. "What brings you to my door? You look troubled, my dear girl."
"I can not give my husband a child," Meriope admitted.
"I am sorry," Gallia assured her.
Meriope looked at her, curiously. "I notice you do not advise me to seek the blessing of the God-king. Were you not a supplicant at the labyrinth?"
Gallia averted her eyes. "I...Yes, I was, but...did I not hear that you had already taken the road?"
"I did," Meriope admitted. "I was not seen, but he saw you, did he not? He blessed you, did he not. What form did that blessing take?"
Something odd shimmered in Gallia's eyes as she replied: "He laid his hand upon my belly, spoke his blessing in the divine tongue and told me that I would bear my husband a child within the year."
"I see," Meriope said, doubtfully. "I was warned that the process was more..." She paused, awkwardly and before she could continue, Gallia burst into tears.
"I am sorry, Mistress Gallia; I meant no offence, " Meriope hurried to assure the older woman. "Please do not cry, Mistress."
"There is no offence, Meriope," Gallia replied. "I weep for shame at the lie I have maintained for over thirty years. I could not tell; I knew that my husband would have abandoned me if he ever found out. I heard that you were going and I wanted to warn you but..." She erupted in fresh floods of tears and fell to her knees before the younger woman. "I am sorry, Meriope. Oh, please forgive me!"
Meriope put her arms around the older woman. "There is nothing to forgive," she assured Gallia. "I was prevented from entering the intercessor's temple. I am sorry to have woken such memories, Mistress."
"Such memories never sleep," Gallia replied.
"It is true then?" Meriope asked.
"That the God-king's blessing...That it takes the form of a violation?" Gallia shuddered uncontrollably. "Yes; it is true. After I was admitted to his sanctum, he took me without ritual and without pity. I spent nine days recovering in the temple infirmary from the things which he had done to me; nine days before I could even walk. I left as soon as my legs would carry me and let my symbiote heal me on the road. I could not stay there; I knew that he would have forgotten me as soon as I was gone from his presence, but the fear that he would send for me again...Even in my home, here, I sometimes wake in a cold sweat, certain that he is coming back for me."
"Mistress..."
Gallia looked up and laid a hand on her cheek. "No. I am only happy that devil did not touch you, dear Meriope. I shall pray to any god but him that your union should be blessed and I shall thank those same gods for the one who prevented your entry into the precinct."
"Thank you, Mistress Gallia."
Meriope spent that evening with her parents in a sullen mood. The next day she returned to her married home and in the privacy of their bedchamber she told her husband everything. Sitting on the edge of their bed, she confided in him all that had happened from her encounter at the temple to her meeting with Gallia and all of her fears for the future.
Damos took it in his stride. "So, Nissa is of divine blood?"
"It appears so," Meriope replied. "It seems strange. Nissa is lovely, without a doubt."
"I always thought so," Damos teased.
Meriope gave a weak smile. "Still; I would not have thought her a demigod."
"Is Gallia certain that it was Minos himself who...you know?"
"She believed it and I believe her, and I believe Naio. Besides; would it have mattered to you which other man fathered a child on your wife?"
"No," he admitted. "But I was not thinking of that. I was merely thinking: If Nissa is a child of Minos, and if Minos possesses no more power to bless a woman with child than any man well, any man save me then perhaps..." He stopped, appalled by his own thoughts.
"I had wondered that myself," Meriope admitted. "That perhaps Minos is not...But it is not for us to think such thoughts," she added, hastily.
"No," Damos agreed, half-heartedly. "But if he can not bless us with a child then there is nowhere left for us to turn."
Meriope clasped her hands in her lap and bowed her head. "You could still seek another," she whispered.
Damos sat up behind his wife and put his arms around her waist. He leaned close to her and kissed the ridge of her ear. "As could you," he murmured.
"Never," she replied. "There is no other."
"Nor for I," he assured her.
There was a shadow over Damos and Meriope's life now, but they were each other's consolation. Neither sought to dissolve their handfasting and after a time they were happy again. If their happiness was not unbridled, it was at least sufficient to keep them from despair.
*
As Naio had predicted, three years and four months after the fateful meeting in Knossos, Meriope and Damos were married. In the weeks before the Harvest Market the farm was in even more of a turmoil than usual as the two families strove to organise everything just so. The happy couple might see this as nothing more than a formal acknowledgement of their union, but for their families this was the great and final celebration and everything had to be perfect.
Meriope spent many days and nights with her mother, while Dido wove and measured and stitched to complete her wedding gown in time. The gown was deep green with many folds and drapes of cloth; few Jaffa of Knossos would ever see such a garment, let alone wear one.
Many guests were invited, including of course the bride's closest childhood friends. This time, Rathe and Nissa arrived from Akrotiri in good time, accompanied by Naio and by three children, their ranks swollen by the addition of baby Priam. The sight of Nissa, herding her brood together, brought a pang of envy to Meriope's heart, but she was able to find the grace to be happy for her friends rather than sorry for herself.
In accordance with Halicarnasan custom, Damos' mother and sister were responsible for organising the great celebration of the marriage and they excelled themselves. It was a huge affair, but all went smoothly, in spite of one unexpected twist. When they stood together at the altar it was not the kindly old priest of Agora who heard their vows, but Naio.
"Do not be afraid," she whispered. "I am a priestess as well as a warrior. It is my right to conduct such proceedings."
The next morning, Meriope rose as a married woman and found Naio waiting for her in the kitchen with a pot of klah'c.
"Drink," she said. "We shall wait for your husband to join us."
They sat and drank in silence, for Jaffa had no need of idle banter. After only a short time, Damos rose and came into the kitchen.
"Mistress Naio," he said, surprised. "What brings you here? Are you cook as well as warrior-priestess?"
Naio smiled. "I have come here with an offer," she explained. "If you still wish it, Meriope, I will take you as my chal'ti. I shall not ask for your answer now; if you wish to accept then you should present yourself at the hall of Captain Medusa in Akrotiri at the end of your bridal month. Whatever your choice, I am to extend the hospitality of Akrotiri to you in this joyous time. The Captain insists that you should spend your bridal month in her city as her honoured guests."
"That is most generous," Meriope replied. "We would be honoured, would we not, husband?"
"Thrilled," Damos agreed, with poor grace. "Who are we to resist the will of a goddess?"
Naio's eyes flashed, dangerously. "The decision is Meriope's," she insisted. "I shall not attempt to influence her; I trust that you will do the same."
"I have no power over my wife," Damos assured her. "She is and has always been her own woman."
"Yet you do influence her." Naio rose to leave and laid a small token, like a coin of gold and lapis lazuli, on the table. "Bring this to the sign of the Silver Aegis in Akrotiri and you shall be well cared for. Many blessings on your union; I hope yet that the greatest of blessings may be yours."
"Even though a mother could not be a warrior?" Damos asked, to Meriope's mortified embarrassment.
Naio smiled, blithely. "I think that you underestimate some of my warriors, Damos of Halicarnasus," she assured him, "and a great many mothers besides."
*
The bridal month was the final phase of the traditional marriage process of the Jaffa on Halicarnasus. A newly-wed couple would leave their home and their work for a greater month; fifty-three days, a single cycle of the larger moon, Tamis. Unless wealthy enough to keep a second home or rent rooms at a boarding house, the couple would stay with relatives, who would attend their needs while they enjoyed their new union. Of course, by the end of their handfasting a couple unusually blessed could have enjoyed their union to the tune of four children by the beginning their bridal month, but the custom endured, perhaps because it provided the Jaffa with the only time of extended rest in their long lives. Even the Taurus Guard were granted leave for a lesser month the twenty-one day cycle of the smaller moon, Selene in celebration of their nuptials.
Not long after Naio had left the farm, Rathe and Nissa came and with their help the happy couple packed a few necessary belongings onto a cart and set off for Akrotiri. Their choice of destination was not governed solely by divine will. With little difficulty, Meriope had already persuaded Rathe and Nissa to give them lodgings in the coastal city; Naio's proclamation merely meant that they were able to release their friends from the burden of tending to their daily needs.
Meriope had been awed by Knossos, but she saw now that the God-king's capital was not even truly a city. Rather, it was a town in scale, but lent an air of grandeur by being clustered about the slopes of the truncated pyramid of the Labyrinth. Akrotiri was something else entirely. Rathe informed her that it was the oldest city on the planet and its buildings had a grandness which, if not equal to the Labyrinth in scale, was joined with a grace and beauty which the God-King's palace could not match.
Rathe drew the cart to a halt on the outskirts of the city, at the gates of a small, pretty house with a well-tended garden. He stepped down from his seat and began lifting his children from the back. "I will leave Nissa here with the little ones, then take you on to the Silver Aegis," he offered.
"You live here?" Meriope gasped, amazed.
"Rathe is most favoured by Captain Medusa," Nissa announced, proudly.
Rathe gave a self-deprecating laugh. "What wealth and favour we enjoy comes from Nissa's work in the gardens of the hall," he assured them. "For a shepherdess she has quite a way with flowers." He reached up and lifted her down by the waist. She draped her arms around his neck and when her feet were on the ground she kissed him. "She has a talent for making things grow," Rathe added, suggestively, returning the kiss.
Nissa laughed. "Not with the children watching," she scolded, gently. "Nor our three," she added, winking at Meriope. "Get on with you, my darling." Her voice dropped to a sultry purr. "But hurry back."
"Like lightning," Rathe promised. He turned and sprang up to the seat, urging the horse forward again.
"Will we be so when we are ten years married?" Meriope wondered aloud.
"When we are fifty years married," Damos promised her. "They will write songs about our love."
After a short drive, the cart stopped before a lodging house as large as the farm buildings back at Agora. The walls gleamed white and on the burnished red wood of the door hung a silver disc with eight rays radiating from its centre. "We can not afford this," Meriope breathed.
"Do you have the token, my lovebirds?" Rathe called back.
"I do," Meriope replied, drawing it out to reassure herself. It was a thing of great beauty; a circle, split by an eight-pointed star, cast in gold and set with lapis. The value of it if sold would probably have paid for the vast bulk of the couple's possessions.
"Simply show that anywhere in the city and you will pay for nothing; this month is in the Captain's gift. Do not be afraid to use it, either; so long as you are not frivolous she will begrudge you nothing. Enjoy yourselves, my friends; this is your bridal month."
*
The guest house was all that its magnificent faηade promised and the token the sign of Medusa, the Lady of Akrotiri and the Captain served by Rathe and Naio not only absolved them of any cost but also assured them the very finest treatment. Meriope was taken aback by the size and luxury of their rooms, by the richness of the refreshments served to them and the deference of the staff.
The proprietor of the house paid close, personal attention to their comforts. His name was Philemon, and he explained that he had once served in Medusa's company; the Gorgons. When Meriope showed an interest in his stories, the old man retrieved his armour unused in years but still kept clean and polished and showed them the snarling demon-helm that had marked him as one of the élite.
"I still wear my hair as I did then, although there is less of it." Pilomon ran a hand through his thick, grey dreadlocks. His brow was bald, but the plaits fell heavily from the back of his head.
"My wife has been offered a place in Medusa's service," Damos grumbled.
"Damos, don't," Meriope whispered. "Don't let this spoil our bridal month, please."
"How can it not? In a month you might leave me forever."
Philemon discretely withdrew as Meriope laid her arms about her husband's neck. "I will never leave you," she swore. "If I were to become the First Prime of the Great Poseidon himself, I would still come home to you. I have no home but where your dwell, Damos."
Damos sighed and hung his head in shame. "I know," he replied, "but I do not want to be without you. When you were gone from my side on the road to Knossos I had no home; I do not want to feel like that again."
"Then I shall not go," Meriope promised. "I will decline this offer and I shall come back to Halicarnasus with you."
Damos held her tightly, and she squeezed her eyes shut to hide her tears.
That night, Milos pulled himself in close behind his wife, wrapped his arm around her waist and murmured in her ear: "I know what she meant now. I do influence you and I know that you would not be happy in Halicarnasus."
"Damos?"
"I want you to be happy, Meriope. I know, although I have been loath to admit it, that this means you must accept Naio's offer."
"I do not have to. I have been happy with you on your farm. It may be..."
"No," he said firmly. "I love you more than ever for trying, but that is why I can not hold you back from this."
"I love you," she whispered. "If I lost you..."
"You never will. I shall always be there, waiting for you when you come home."
"And I shall always come home," she promised.
*
With the burden of the decision lifted, the bridal month was sweet, the impending farewell only adding to the couple's joy in each other's company. By day, Philemon's youngest son showed them the sights of the city of Akrotiri; and by night they lay together in love. They visited Rathe and Nissa's house on several occasions to dine with their family, but hey felt no envy of their children anymore.
Both Rathe and Nissa now wore the circle-brand of Medusa in place of the horned tattoo of Minos upon their brows. Rathe had been admitted to the august ranks of the élite Gorgons and Nissa served as a gardener in the grounds of the hall. Both spoke very highly of the Captain. They were delighted that Meriope had accepted Naio's offer, but Nissa in particular was disappointed that they had chosen not to move from Halicarnasus to Akrotiri.
"You will not be a levy," she reminded Meriope. "You will not be released after training to work your fields until your arm is needed."
"Damos gave a lopsided smile. "She was never much of a field-worker anyway," he said, phlegmatically, "although the herd will miss her."
"We understand what is involved," Meriope assured her friend, "but this is what we want. Halicarnasus is our home; it is my home. Damos could not leave his farm and I will always long to be there."
"I suppose I understand," Nissa sighed, "but my home is with my family."
Meriope turned to her husband and smiled. "As is mine," she said.
*
At the end of the month, Meriope packed a small bag and went up to the Hall of Medusa with Rathe. Damos accompanied them to say his farewells.
Naio received them in the great foyer of the hall. "You have decided then?" she asked.
"We have," Meriope replied. "That is, I have and my husband supports me. I have chosen to accept your offer."
"I am glad," Naio said. "Master Damos, I know that there is no-one in the world who could replace your wife, but I hope that you will at least allow me to compensate for the loss of her labour." She gestured and two Jaffa approached from the back of the foyer. "This is Criton," she said. "He is young and strong, but he lacks both patience and dedication."
"I am sure he will be ample replacement for my wife's efforts then," Damos drawled, earning a slap to his shoulder.
Naio smiled. "I hope that he will benefit as much as you from the arrangement. The young lady beside him is his pledged bride, Denaria. If you can find a place for her, I am certain that a little hard work will do her a world of good."
The girl, a pretty thing who looked too young even to be pledged, bowed her head and blushed, but from the side of her eyes she shot Naio such a poisonous look that Meriope knew at once that there was something more going on than Naio was revealing. Moreover, Criton and Denaria did not look to Meriope as though they were friends, let alone lovers. She wondered for an uncharitable moment if this was some conspiracy to have Denaria seduce Damos and so remove the encumbrance of marriage from Naio's new chal'ti. That did not seem Naio's style, however, and Meriope set the thought aside.
Damos gave Meriope a look that showed he shared at least some of her suspicions, but all he said was: "I am certain that they will prove most useful. You and your Captain are most thoughtful."
"It is the least we can do when you are parting with such a treasure," Naio assured him, acknowledging the compliment with a nod. "Take your leave now," she added. "Criton and Denaria will meet you at your cart. Meriope; Rathe and I will await you in the next chamber.
The farewells were long and tearful. Meriope did not yet know how long it would be before she next saw her husband and Damos could not be certain that he would ever see his wife again. Both had tears in their eyes, but for each other they were strong.
At last, Milos left the hall, and Meriope walked through the door that led to her destiny.
But Niao was not there.