The Dancer from Atlantis

XVI

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.”

That night Erissa came.

* * *

He was dreaming. He wanted to build a blastproof fall-out shelter because World War Three was now unavoidable and Atlantis was a prime target area but Pamela said they couldn’t afford it because Mark’s teeth needed straightening and besides where would they find room for those bulls which bellowed and tried to gore her whose face he couldn’t see and she sprang between their horns which were iron and clanged fie sat up. Blackness filled his eyes. He thought: Burglars! and groped for the light switch. The scuffling in the corridor ended with a thud. He was in the temple of the Triune Goddess and his destiny was being played out.

“Duncan,” ran the whisper. “Duncan. where arc you?”

He swung his feet to the cold floor and groped his way forward, barking his ankle on a stool. “Here,” he called hoarsely. These rooms had regular doors. When he opened his, he saw a lamp in the hand of Erissa.

She sped down the hallway. The flame was nearly blown out by her haste. But when she reached him, she could only stop and say, “Duncan,” and slowly raise fingers to his cheek. They trembled. She wore a stained tunic and a knife. Her hair was in the dancer’s ponytail; the white streak and its new neighbors leaped forth against surrounding shadows. He saw that she had grown thin. Her countenance was weatherbeaten and there were more lines than erstwhile in the brow and around the eyes.

He also began to shake. Dizziness passed through him. She laid her free arm around his neck and pulled his head down to her bosom. It was warm and, beneath the rank sweat of strife, smelled like the maiden’s.

“Dress.” she said urgently. “We must be gone before somebody comes.”

Releasing him, she half turned and half shrieked. Through the murk Reid made out Uldin, squatting above the sprawled form of Velas. Blood matted the Atlantean’s locks. He had been struck on the temple by the pommel of the Hun’s saber. Uldin had a knee under Velas’ neck and the edge to his throat.

“No!” Even then, Erissa remembered to set down the lamp. The same motion sent her wheeling full around and plunging up the hall. She kicked. Her heel caught Uldin’s jaw. He went on his back. Snarling, he bounced to a crouch. “No!” Erissa said as if she were about to vomit. “We’ll bind him, gag him, hide him in a room. But murder? Bad enough bringing weapons to Her isle.”

Uldin came erect. For an instant neither moved. Reid stiffened his knees and sidled toward them, wondering if he could get in under that blade. The Hun lowered it. “We ... swore ... an oath,” he said thickly.

Erissa’s own stance, of one ready to sidestep horns, eased a trifle. “I had to stop you,” she said. “I told you no needless killing. If nothing else, mightn’t the traces of it bring alarm too soon? Cut strips from his loincloth and secure him. Duncan, can you find your garments without a lamp?”

Reid nodded. Light would drift through his open door. Uldin spat on the fallen man. “Very well,” the Hun said. “But remember, Erissa, you’re not my chief. I swore only to stand by you.” He fleered at them both. “And, yes, now you have your Duncan, I no longer play stallion to your mare.”

She gasped. Reid went quickly back to his chamber. Fumbling in the half-illumination, he put on one of the Cretan outfits, boots, puttees, kilt, and cap given him here. Over it he threw his Achaean tunic and cloak.

Erissa entered. He could barely see how her head drooped. “Duncan,” she whispered, “I had to come. By whatever way.”

“Of course.” They stole a kiss. Meanwhile he thought: I’ll see her young self.

Uldin was dragging the unconscious guard into a room when they emerged. Reid stopped in midstride. “Hurry,” Erissa said.

“Could we take him along?” Reid asked. The other two stared. “I mean,” he faltered, “he’s a good man and ... has a small daughter.... No, I suppose not.”

They went out as the rescuers had come, by a side door giving on a wide staircase. Sphinxes flanked it, white under that low moon which frosted the descending garden terraces and the distant heights. In between, the bay was bridged by light that passed near the mountain’s foot. The Great Bear stood in the north, and Polaris, but that was not the lodestar in this age. The air was warm and unmoving, filled by scents of new growth and chirring of crickets.

Reid could guess how entry was forced. The temple’s men had never looked for attack. At night they posted one of their number in the corridor in sight of Reid’s quarters. Should trouble arise, he could wrestle with the prisoner till his shouts fetched reinforcement from the inner building. Erissa simply opened this unbarred door, peeked through and called him to her. She knew the layout, the procedure, and the words to disarm suspicion. When Velas got close, Uldin rushed from behind her.

She blew out the lamp. which had obviously been burning in the hall. (Velas would have carried it with him. She’d doubtless snatched it before it dropped from his grasp to the floor and shattered. How many would have had the thought or the quickness?) “Follow,” she said. He expected her to take his hand, but she merely led the way. Uldin pushed Reid, after her and took the rearguard. They shuffled down half-seen paths until they reached shore: not the dock, but a small beach where a boat lay grounded.

“Shove us off, Uldin,” Erissa murmured. “Duncan, can you help me row? He catches too many crabs, makes too much noise.” So she must have brought the craft in alone, the last several hundred yards or more.

The Hun also made a clatter getting around the dismounted mast and yard, and Reid’s stomach twinged. But nobody called, nobody stirred; in holy peace, the Goddess’ isle still slept. Very faintly, oars creaked in tholes and blades dripped. “Midbay,” Erissa told Uldin, who sat silhouetted in the sternsheets as quartermaster.

When they rested, becalmed under moon and mountain on glass-dark water, Erissa said, “Duncan, this whole winter—” and moved over against him. He thought ... he had too many thoughts whirling together ... he made himself know what she had endured for his sake, and was as kind as he was able.

The embrace didn’t take long. Uldin hawked. Erissa disengaged herself. “We’d best plan,” she said unevenly.

“Uh, I-I-let’s exchange information,” stumbled out of Reid. “What’s happened?”

In short harsh sentences, she told him. At the end, she said, “We docked today. Uldin stayed in the boat. If noticed, he’d be taken for an outland slave whose foot must not touch Atlantean soil. Otherwise there could have been questions. I took ashore a tale of distress and a bracelet to trade for respectable clothes.” (Reid remembered anew that this was a world without coinage—bars of metal were the nearest thing to a standard medium of exchange, and none too commonly used—and he wondered belatedly if that was what he should have introduced.) “I witnessed the dancing.” He had seldom heard such pain in so quiet a voice. She swallowed and continued: “In the merrymaking afterward, folk mingling freely in streets and inns, I had no trouble finding out what had become of you. Or what they were told had become of you. That story about your meditating was flat—clearly a lie. Knowing you were in the temple, I knew what part it had to be and how best to get there when everyone had gone to sleep. On the water, I changed back to this garb to spare the good that will be needed later. And we fetched you.”

“I couldn’t have done the same,” he mumbled. “Instead, I’m the fool who let out the secret.” He was glad his back was to the moon while he related.

In the end, she caught his hands. “Duncan, it was defined. And how could you have known? I, I should have foreseen, should have thought to warn—to find a way for us to flee Athens before—”

“Rein in,” Uldin said. “What’ll we do now?”

“Go on to Crete,” Erissa replied. “I can find my parents’ house, where I ... will be dwelling. And my father had ... has the ear of a palace councilor or two.”

Cold moved down from Reid’s scalp along his backbone and out to his fingertips. “No, wait,” he said.

The idea had burst upon him. “We’d take days to cross the channel in this boat, and we’d arrive beggarly,” he explained. “But yonder’s the new warship. And the crew. I know where every member lives. They’ve no reason not to trust me. That ship will speak for us, and, and maybe it’ll fight for Keft—Fast!” His oar smacked into the lagoon.

Erissa’s followed. She matched him stroke for stroke. Presently his arms ached and his wind grew short. “How shall they leave without the temple stopping them?” she asked.

We must be seaborne before the temple suspects any-thing,” Reid panted. “Let me think.” After a minute: “Yes. One lad can carry word to two more, who each tell two more, and so on. They’ll obey, at least to the extent of meeting at the wharf. And the first I have in mind will follow us anywhere we say, over world-edge if need be. Dagonas—”

He stopped. Erissa had missed a stroke.

She resumed in a moment. “Dagonas,” she said, and that was all.

“How’ll we proceed?” Uldin asked. Reid told them.

They tied up alongside the rammer and scrambled ashore. Nobody else seemed awake. Houses were pale beneath the moon, streets guts of blackness, Dogs howled.

The uphill run soon had Reid staggering, fire in his lungs. But he wasn’t about to collapse before Erissa and ... that swine Uldin.... “Here.” He leaned against the adobe wall, shivering, head awhirl. Uldin pounded on the door for what seemed a long while.

It creaked open at last. A household servant blinked sleepily, lamp in hand. Reid had gotten back some strength. “Quick,” he exclaimed. “I must see your master. And the young master. At once. Life and death.”

She recognized him. He wondered what was in his expression to make her quail. She couldn’t have seen Uldin or Erissa as more than shadows. “Yes. sir, yes, sir. Please come in. I’ll call them.”

She led the way to the atrium. “Please wait here, sirs, my lady.” The chamber was well furnished; this was a rich family. A fresco of cranes in flight made vivid one wall; by another, a candle burned before the shrine of the Goddess. Erissa stood for a bit while Reid paced and Uldin squatted. Then, slowly, she knelt to the image. Her hands were pressed together so tightly that, however uncertain this light, Reid could see how the blood was driven from the nails.

The appearance of Dagonas and his father brought her to her feet. Perhaps only Reid noticed how the breath went ragged in her throat or how red and white ebbed across her face. Otherwise she stayed motionless and expressionless. Dagonas looked at her, and away, and back again. Puzzlement drew a slight crease between his large dark eyes, under his tumbled dark bangs.

“My lord Duncan.” The father bowed. “You honor our house. But what brings you here at so strange an hour?”

“A stranger reason, and terrible,” Reid answered. “Tonight the Goddess sent these twain, who made fully clear to me what those dreams mean that have been their forerunners.”

He invented most of the story as he went along. The truth would have spilled more time than he, than anyone could afford. Erissa, a Keftiu lady resident in Mycenae, and Uldin, a trader from the Black Sea who had come to Tiryns, had likewise had troublous dreams. They sought the same oracle, which commanded them both to go to Atlantis and warn the foreigner in the temple to heed his own visions. As further evidence of wrath to, come, they were told that they would witness a human sacrifice during the journey. This they took to be the shipwreck of the vessel they were on, from which they alone escaped. An Achaean fisherman on the island to which they swam carried them here, in his boat—miracle in itself—but said he ought not to land on the holy isle; and when they brought Reid back, the fisherman was gone.

There could be no delay. Every person with any real civil, or religious authority was in Knossos. Reid must bring his warning to them and toithe Minos as fast as possible. Never mind what the Ariadne had decreed. Let the new galley be manned and provisioned and depart at once.

For the dream was that Atlantis would soon sink, in fire and wild waters. Let its people, break off their feasting, let them take every boat to sea and wait. Else they would join those sailors that the angry gods had already drowned.

“I—” The older man shook his head, stunned. “I know not what to believe.”

“Nor did I, until this final sign came to me,” Reid replied.

He had fabled and talked mechanically, his consciousness wandering; for he knew he would reach Knossos where the girl awaited him. Now his mind came back. The man and boy, aroused wife and children and servants who stood fearfully in the door, became real; they could love and mourn and die. He said to Dagonas, “Crete will suffer wide destruction too. Won’t you help me rescue Erissa?”

“Oh, yes, oh, yes.” The boy started off at a trot which quickened toward a run.

His father’s voice stopped him: “Wait! Let me think—”

“I cannot linger,” Dagonas answered. He did briefly, though, gazing at Erissa. “You look like her,” he said. “We are kin.” Her tone was faint. “Go,”

The ship could not start before there was adequate light to steer by. But it took that long to gather crew and supplies anyway. The food came from their homes, water from the public cisterns, by Reid’s command; he didn’t dare try dealing with officialdom. As was, be sweated while his boys hastened down the streets—torch in one hand, since the moon had descended behind the western hills, streaming like a red comet’s tail; bucket or bundle in the other, or tucked beneath the arm or slung across the shoulder—and thudded up the gangplank. Their families began to appear on the docks, an eddying of bodies in the gloom, an uneasy rustle of voices which rose and rose as questions received a grisly answer. This brought other, nearby house-holders forth. But most doors stayed shut. Folk slept well between their days of revelry.

Some decided to evacuate immediately. No few boats left, even before the galley did. Dagonas’ parents were not included. They meant to carry the news from home to home till the corrida started and later ask that a public announcement be made. The assault on Velas, when news of that got about, wouldn’t help; nor would offended lords spiritual and temporal who had not been consulted. But maybe the example of the hundred or so persons who were already afloat would inspire—maybe, maybe—

We’ve done what we can here, Reid thought. We’ll keep trying elsewhere. Sixty miles or thereabouts, to cross, and we average three or four knots. The boat from Athens that we’re towing for insurance cuts that down a bit, but no matter. because we’ll arrive by night in any case and have to lie out till dawn.

The east was paling. The ship’s crew cast off and stood to their posts. The sight of Dagonas’ father and mother, holding hands and waving, stayed with Reid until the thought came: In twenty-four hours, I’ll see Erissa.

She did not seek him until well after sunrise. He stood in the bows of the upper deck. The morning lay around them, infinitely blue: cloudless overhead, surging beneath in fluid sapphires, cobalts, amethysts, turquoises and in snowy lacework. A favoring wind heeled the ship over a little; the planks moved like the back of a galloping animal. Bow waves hissed, rigging creaked and whistled. The sun was shaded off by the bellying genoa; but elsewhere made sparks and shimmers and called forth the first pungency of tar. A pair of dolphins played tag with the hull. Their torpedo bodies would rush in until it seemed a collision was certain, then veer off, graceful as a bull dancer. Gulls mewed above the masts.

Forward, a barely visible haziness betokened Crete. Aft, the cone of Pillar Mountain was a black blot on the horizon, the last glimpse of Atlantis.

“Duncan.”

He turned, Like him, she had resumed Cretan garb. Her hair rippled in the breeze that felt cool on his own bare breast. Suddenly the crew, taking their ease on the thwarts below, and the helmsman and the two lookouts above, were far away.

“May I be here with you?” she asked.

“O gods, Erissa.” He pulled her close. They didn’t kiss. but she laid her cheek against his.

“I’ve wanted you so,” she whispered.

He had no answer.

She released him. They stood side by side at the rail. “Eldritch to ride again on this ship,” she said “After all the years. I do not know if it is the ghost or I am.”

“Reaching Knossos will be hard for you,” he said, look-ing out to sea.

“Yes. My parents; their household ... we had a pet monkey I called Mischief.... Well, it must be. And I will have been given to meet my dead once more. A-a-am I not favored?” She rubbed her eyes.

“Yourself,” he said.

“That!" She caught his arm in both hands and leaned close to him, “Duncan, do you believe ... can you imagine I’m jealous? I feared what you would think of me, old me. But to lie awake in my father’s house, knowing that then,, then I am having the dearest hours of my life—”

The mountain sundered.