Chapter 38 #2
She sang an old tune of Naxos that told of Poseidon’s love for a mortal girl he’d seen dancing barefoot on the island’s shore. Orpheus wove a lilting harmony with her melody, but as they serenaded the dawn, sadness sank into her bones. She would have given anything to be singing with her father.
As the song ended, Jason stepped forward and placed the body of a Stymphalian bird in front of her, then handed her a knife.
She plunged the blade down and with a mixture of repulsion and fascination, pulled the entrails through her fingers, making a display of examining the folds of blood and gristle.
Silently she said her own prayer. She didn’t know if anyone could hear her. But something had given her these powers. Perhaps they were listening, whoever they were.
Please keep my family safe. Help me get back to them one day.
She straightened up, blood dripping from her hands, and turned to face the crew. “The omens are clear. The gods are satisfied with the penance Heracles has paid for his crimes. If our mission is to succeed, he must rejoin the Argonauts.”
Silence rolled over the beach. The Argonauts glanced at one another. Jason looked furious.
“I’m not sharing a ship with a child murderer,” growled Castor.
There was a collective intake of breath. Castor was either very brave or incredibly foolish. Heracles could crush him as easily as breathing.
The crew muttered amongst themselves. She’d hoped their faith would be enough to convince them, but clearly these warriors needed to be spoken to in the only language they really understood: power.
The sand trembled. Then the sea nearest the altar began to churn, foam flecking the boiling waves.
“You dare question the omens?” Danae threw the full force of divine anger behind her words.
Castor paled and shook his head.
You are like a god to them, said the voice.
I know, she thought.
She let the sea go calm. “Captain.”
Jason glanced around at the now quivering Argonauts, then back at her. Angry as he was, he couldn’t contradict her without denying the gods. She’d trapped him.
Through gritted teeth, he said, “We will obey the omens. Heracles and Dolos will rejoin the Argonauts.”
It was a subdued crew that packed up the Argo and headed back out onto the Black Sea. Without their navigator, Jason took charge of the steering oar.
“I’ve consulted Tiphys’s maps, and if we keep the coast to our right, we should reach Colchis in a month. From there we need to watch out for a river that flows inland, that should take us close to the city. The end is in sight, Argonauts!”
The crew mustered a cheer.
And beyond the city lay the Caucasus Mountains. Danae’s chest fluttered with excitement. Finding Prometheus was the beacon that had guided her through the darkest moments of the voyage. Now it felt tangible, like she could almost grasp hold of it.
And she didn’t have to do it alone.
As the crew moved to take their places on the rowing benches, Heracles brushed past her, and their fingers touched.
She felt the prickle of eyes on her and glanced around to see Dolos turning away.
Since rejoining the Argo, he’d behaved like Heracles was a child in his care, rather than a seasoned hero who’d seen more danger than the rest of Greece put together.
Perhaps there was some truth in what Telamon said on the beach.
Maybe Dolos held more than friendship in his heart for Heracles.
In the weeks that followed the cold became an onslaught.
Danae had never known a chill like it. She shivered constantly, despite the full-body furs the crew now wore.
Gone were the days of sweat glistening on bare backs.
The rowers pulled the oars with numb hands, red noses and cracked lips.
At least having Heracles back on the benches relieved a great deal of strain from the rest of the Argonauts, his strength nearly doubling their speed.
The men were still wary of the hero, but he was an undeniable asset.
Since the Stymphalian birds attack, there hadn’t been any interference from the gods. Danae wasn’t comforted by this. If anything, it made her more uneasy. It felt like they were playing a game, keeping her at arm’s length and testing her powers. Studying her.
But despite the peril of her situation, her mind was elsewhere.
She knew she must tell Heracles about Prometheus and the prophecy before they reached Colchis, but despite her best efforts she hadn’t been able to engineer time alone with him.
The Argonauts took their breaks from the benches in shifts. Being so few, only two men at a time were given respite from rowing to quickly eat and wick their thirst, before returning to the oars.
Danae sat huddled on the stern platform, her furs wound so tightly around her she could barely draw a full breath. Her gaze began its usual haunt across the mountainous regions of Heracles’s shoulders, when Jason called, “Castor, Pollux, back to the benches and relieve Heracles.”
Danae’s heart clenched like a fist as the hero set down his oar and turned, his face seeking hers.
Their eyes met, and his ocean-deep gaze struck through her like one of his father’s thunderbolts.
Without hesitating to think, she eased herself down onto the mid-deck and slipped into the store cabin.
Once inside, her eyes darted around at the cramped interior, unable to settle while her heartbeat thumped in her stomach.
A moment passed, then another. And another.
The vibration in her body slowed, and a deep flush prickled her cheeks.
She was being foolish: of course he wasn’t going to follow her in.
She cast around for something she could claim brought her to the store cabin.
She settled on a waterskin, then moved toward the door.
Her hand was almost at the latch when it opened.
Heracles squeezed himself into the room. Danae dropped the waterskin as the hero closed the door behind him. He was so tall he had to bow his head, his shoulders resting against the cabin ceiling.
They looked at each other for a breath, then Heracles sank to his knees, still almost as tall as she was, and pulled her into him.
Their fingers tangled in each other’s furs as they fought through the layers of hide to the skin beneath.
The heat of him under her hands set a fire roaring up her arms and down to the furnace of her stomach.
She gasped as his mouth moved up her neck, his teeth grazing her flesh.
She pushed the lion hide from his head and buried her face in his hair as his hands gripped her back.
She drank in the smell of him, that intoxicating musk that was only his.
She had been tentative before, a stranger to the intricacies of his body, but emboldened by the pleasure she now knew how to give, she reached for him.
The door opened. Like a whip had been cracked between them, they leaped apart.
Dolos stood in the doorway, a statue of displeasure. “The wind has died. Jason wants you back on the bench.”
“Jason can fuck off,” growled Heracles.
The volcano that had been brewing inside Danae erupted. “Get out,” she spat at the healer, and beneath her feet the floorboards cracked.
For a moment, she didn’t realize what she’d done, then she saw fear flicker across Dolos’s face and followed his gaze downward.
The healer backed out of the cabin and she heard Jason calling, “Did we hit something?”
“No,” Dolos replied. “A barrel fell in the store.”
She could feel the reproach in Heracles’s movements as he fastened his lion hide.
“You need to be more careful.”
“You’re one to talk.” Her words came out with far more venom than she intended.
Heracles looked like he was going to say something else, then he turned toward the door.
“You’re not going?”
“This was foolish,” he said curtly. “We were lucky it was Dolos.” He paused. “We shouldn’t do this again until we reach Colchis.”
Even now, all she wanted to do was touch him. They’d stolen a fleeting moment together, and she had wasted it on appeasing her desire. The narrow planks between them felt the size of a continent, but there was still time. She couldn’t let the opportunity slip away.
“Heracles, there’s something I need to tell you.”
He reached out and stroked the back of his fingers along her jaw, tracing his thumb across the contours of her mouth. “Not here.”
Then he kissed her, one last time.
True to his word, Heracles did not seek out Danae again.
She was left to comfort herself with the vision the omphalos shard had shown her.
She and Heracles were going to find Prometheus together, it was written by the fates.
She would just have to be patient and wait until they landed at Colchis to reveal their shared destiny.
Two weeks later, she was back in the store, taking an inventory of their remaining rations, when Peleus threw open the door.
She smiled at him. He was still not well enough to row, but every day the man grew stronger.
With Dolos busy at the oars, Danae carefully followed the healer’s instructions and kept a watchful eye over Peleus.
The morning he’d woken and asked for wine, she knew his battle with the fever was won.
“Daeira, come look at this.”
She followed him out onto the deck and nearly dropped the pack of biscuits she was carrying. She had only seen snow once before, one particularly cold winter on Naxos. She’d thought the stars were falling from the heavens.
She tilted her face to the sky, laughing as the flakes dissolved on her skin. They were so delicate, like the cold specters of spring blossom.
“Look, there!” Pollux was pointing to something in the distance.
Danae squinted through the snow. On the horizon she could just make out jagged mounds of gray rearing up into the clouds.
“It’s Colchis!” shouted Jason.
The Caucasus Mountains, Prometheus. They were almost there.