Poul Anderson - The Dancer from Atlantis

Wind faded out at dawn. The boat lay becalmed in a nearly flat sea, which glittered across its dark blue to the rosy-clouded luminance in the east. Westward, Argolis rose in mountains and shadowy woodlands—Troezen, where Theseus was born. Attica was low on the after horizon.

Elsewhere a few islands were strewn, white and green. Erissa shipped the now useless steering oar and doffed her cloak, for the, dawn was fast warming.

“Best we eat,” she said. “We’ll be busy later.”

“Or idle,” Uldin growled by the mast. “We can’t get far on strength alone. When’ll it blow again?”

“Before long, I expect. Then we can await noontide calms, brisk afternoons and evenings, little or nothing throughout most nights.”

“Ungh. And the fleet due to start forth tomorrow. They’ll have rowers to overtake us, and whoever sees us may well think we’re worth a closer look.”

“I said we would go around behind the islands, taking cover at need. We can see a galley before it can, spy us.”

“Days at best, then, traveling.” Uldin scratched under his shirt, caught a louse, and cracked it between his teeth. “Death along the way, not unlikely?’

“If I am to meet Duncan again, as I told you long ago I would—”

“You never said I’d be there.” Suddenly her heart wavered. He drew his dagger and wagged the point at her. “See here. You’re an eldritch one. More so, I think, than the lover you’re taking us to. I’m none too sure you didn’t trick or bewitch me into coming along. And you’d cast me aside like a worn-out pair of breeches if you’d no further use for me.”

“Uldin, no ... I—”

“Keep quiet, I can take my chances with you, or I can turn around, give you to Theseus for killing after they’ve wrung what you know from you, and take my chances with him. Which is it to be?”

She rallied her courage. She knew, she did, she knew. With clamped fists and quick breath: “Me. You must.”

“I must not do one befouled thing I’m not bound to do, and I’m not bound to you.” Uldin’s scowl eased. “Here’s what I want. Blood brotherhood sworn between us. Faithfulness to death, you for me and I for you, by all our gods, demons, ancestors, hope of descendants, and blood of our veins that we mingle. Then I’ll know I can trust you. I’ve never heard of its being done between man and woman, but you’re different.”

Relief weakened her. “Of course, Uldin. Gladly.”

He grinned. “You’re not that much different, however. Don’t fear. I’ll not stand between you and the man you’re after, when you’ve found him. We can put that in the oath too, if you like. But meanwhile we’ll be by ourselves for days, apt to get killed on any of them, and plenty of free times like now. Keep me happy.”

She stared at him. “Oh, no,” she pleaded.

He shrugged. “That’s the price of my oath. You’re setting a price on yours, you know.”

She tried to recall the maiden who danced with bulls and fell in love with a god. But she couldn’t. The road back was too long.

Well, she thought, Oleg was right about this much: Wherever a road may lead, you walk it a step at a time. “As you will, then,” she said.

They didn’t treat Reid disrespectfully. Lydra explained to the guards that he had been afflicted by visions which she recognized as false and unlucky. He was forbidden to utter a word about them and was to be gagged if he tried. But otherwise he was simply confined to quarters. After her return she would lift the curse off him.

In fact, since no other male guests remained, he had the freedom of that wing. Escorted, he was allowed to walk through the gardens. From there he watched the ships depart for Knossos.

The Ariadne’s galley went first, long and wide, the Horns on its prow, the Pillar amidships, the Labrys on the sternpost. He saw the maidens crowded eager on deck and tried to make out Erissa—she’d be the quiet, disappointed one—but the distance was too great for middle-aged eyes. Behind came two escorting warcraft, then a line of ships and boats belonging to those lay folk who could afford the trip. All were bright with paint and pennons: wreaths hung at every rail; a breeze carried snatches of song as well as coxswains’ chants. The colors were the more brilliant against the black mountain behind.

He was surprised that his rammer wasn’t in the party. Then he realized Lydra would have forbidden it, and no doubt its crew, to go, on some pretext or other. Too many questions might have gotten asked; or it might even have managed to stand off the Achaean fleet.

So we’re both left behind, Dagonas, he thought.

The fleet marched through the channel and out of Reid’s sight. That was the first of the ten festival days.

On the second, what priestesses had stayed behind were rowed to town and conducted ceremonies. Reid saw that this involved the fisher craft. After those were blessed they put to sea, turned around, and came back to an elaborate reception. That must be more or less simultaneous with Erissa’s arrival at Knossos.

On the third day he saw a procession leave town for the highlands and wind back down some hours later: music, dancing, and herded bulls. A guard, not unwilling to talk—for though his assignment kept him from joining the fun, the Ariadne had told him how much prestige and merit he gained by thus looking after the unfortunate—explained that this was a small version of the Grand Drive into Knossos. That night the volcano showed fireworks, awful and beautiful, till nearly dawn; thereafter it fell quiet.

On the fourth day the corridas began. They would continue for the rest of the celebration period. Atlantis was unique in that only girls took part, chosen by lot from the instructresses and those novices deemed ready. In most towns the show was comparatively modest. Knossos drew the champions of the Thalassocracy. There, on the last day, the, youth and maiden judged to have performed best would dance with the best bull, which the Minos would then sacrifice; and Asterion, resurrected, would claim his Bride and beget himself.

I wonder if Erissa will win the garland of sacred lilies, Reid thought; and then: No. We’re too near the end. I’m going to die when Atlantis does, and she....

On the fifth day he scarcely stirred from his bed, lay staring at the ceiling and thinking: What have I accomplished? Nothing except harm. Oleg and Uldin at least have skills useful in this age; they’ll make their way. Erissa will survive and set herself free. I ... I let every decision be made for me. In my smugness as a scion of the scientific era, I let myself be duped into telling the enemies of her people exactly what they needed to know. I brought on the fall of the Thalassocracy! The horrors my Erissa has to live through go straight back to me.. .. My Erissa? I wasn’t good enough to make my rightful wife happy. But oh, yes. I was good enough to take advantage of a woman’s need and faith, a girl’s innocence. Atlantis, hurry and sink!

On the sixth day, after a white night, he saw that the game wasn’t played quite to an end. He and Erissa, young Erissa, were to meet again and—and if nothing else, by the God who had yet to be created, he should keep trying to return home. His duty lay there. It came to him that duty was not the stern thing he had always supposed; it could be armor.

Escape, then. But how? He got Velas, the amiable guard, into conversation. Would it not be possible to visit town, attend a corrida, maybe hoist a few rhytons in the merriment that followed?

“No, sir, the Ariadne’s orders were clear. Sorry, sir. I’d like to. Got a wife and kids there, you know, and believe me, they’re sad about this. Youngest girl must be crying for Daddy. Just two and a half, sir, the cutest tyke—and smart? Why, let me tell you.”