What Happens in Attica ... ... stays in Attica. Iolaus's great-grandmother reveals some of her checkered past.. “Are you still here, Iolaus?” At his name, Iolaus looked around the trunk of the tree in which he was sitting to see Granthea coming around the side of the house. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, jumping down out of the tree and going to meet her. “I have to wait for Mom, I promised to help her carry a bushel of apples home.” “You’re a good boy, Iolaus,” said Granthea. “Come and sit here by me,” she invited him as she seated herself on the bench that circled the big tree trunk. She pulled a white napkin out of her pocket and offered him the toasted nuts that it contained. Iolaus thought himself luckier than most of the boys at school, he had this extra grandmother, a great grandmother. She was very old, even older than his Gran. The stories Granthea told him were almost like fairy tales. When he and his mother had arrived at Gran’s house this sunny summer day, his Aunt Althea was already there, gossiping with Gran and Granthea. Granthea’s real name was Althea, too, but when Iolaus was little he’d turned Grandma Althea into Granthea and Granthea she had remained. The women soon began fussing over his aunt, who had brought Iolaus’s littlest cousin with her. There would soon be another cousin, he guessed, but of course the women wouldn’t discuss such things with a boy. He’d grabbed an apple from the table and headed outside to his favorite climbing tree. “Flatus tells me you’ve been hunting with him,” said Granthea, who must also have tired of the baby talk. “Yeah, we’ve been out to the mountains a few times, even stayed out overnight,” said Iolaus, nibbling on a nut. “He has lots of old hunter’s tricks he’s teaching me!” “Old hunter’s tricks, indeed,” sniffed Granthea. “Well, Flatus always was a good student, he learned all my tricks and developed a few of his own. I expect you will too.” “You taught Uncle Flatus to hunt?” asked Iolaus. He stared at Granthea. Although her cropped curls were as white as snow, he caught a twinkle in her blue eyes. “Don’t look so astonished, boy,” she laughed, ruffling Iolaus’s blonde curls. “I was young once, you know, and I made my living hunting.” This was a story that Iolaus hadn’t heard before! “How did you become a hunter, Granthea?” he cried. “I mean, you’re a girl!” “I was a girl then,” she laughed. “I was never any good at spinning or weaving, and after my mother died my father was happy to take me out with him. My father Orion was a great hunter, and he taught me everything he knew. Some of those old hunter’s tricks were old even when he taught them to me. I taught them to my son, your grandfather. After he died when the kids were still little, I taught Flatus too. Erythiea and Althea weren’t interested,” she frowned, glancing toward the house. “They took after their mother.” Iolaus reached for another nut. “Where’s your favorite place to hunt, Granthea?” “Attica,” the old woman replied without hesitation. “I always had a wonderful hunt when I was in Attica.” “Where’s that?” “It’s south of here: beautiful country, lots of game, and very nice people.” *** The red tile roofs of the town of Attica glinted in the distance as Althea rounded the hill. She had made a good deal to bring beaver pelts to the market in Corinth, and the rivers of Attica were teeming with the creatures. “Be careful out there,” the fur trader had warned her as they shook on their contract. “I’ve been to Attica before,” she replied. “Yes, but …” “But not alone, you mean to say,” the young huntress cut off the trader’s comment. “It’s true I haven’t been there since my father’s death, but I know the territory very well and I’ll bring you the pelts we agreed on.” The ancient forests of Attica were one of Althea’s favorite places to hunt. She and her father had been there many times in the ten years they hunted together. The heavy canopy of the trees separated her from the turmoil of the world, with its noise and towns and business. The huntress followed the path down the hill, but turned away from the town when a side track veered off at the river bridge. She soon left the road altogether and followed the water, looking for signs of beaver. She laid some traps before she settled on a camping place. As night fell, Althea snuggled comfortably into her bedroll and gratefully watched the crescent moon of Artemis as it moved slowly across the wedge of sky that showed among the trees. Artemis was said to haunt the forests and glens of Attica and the goddess always protected her own. The hunting was good over the next weeks, and Althea’s traps were full of beaver. The work was hard, but satisfying. The money she got for the pelts she had drying on her racks would see her through the coming winter. Her campsite was comfortable, near the river and a pool fed by a small waterfall. She found plenty of small game in the forest and fish in the river to eat, and wild herbs grew nearby. She had fruit and eggs and other luxuries that she traded meat and her leatherwork for at a couple of local farms. While she waited for her beaver pelts to cure, Althea began to explore the area around her camp. The day of the full moon, she picked up the track of a deer just on the far side of the eastern ridge. She could sell the meat to the inn at the crossroads back on the road to the town and keep the skin for a jacket, maybe make some cords and other oddments to sell or trade on her way back north. The tracks were clear and the huntress followed her prey with confident care. Soon she spotted the stag, its antlers many-pointed. Nocking an arrow, Althea crept forward silently until she had a clear line of fire. Raising her bow, she let fly. The animal dropped where it stood, a fair kill. Althea approached quickly but carefully, murmuring her thanks to Artemis. But as she reached for the arrow imbedded in the carcass, she pulled back with a start. The arrow that had pierced the stag’s noble heart had red fletching, not her own green and gray. “What do you think you’re doing?” Althea’s dagger was in her hand before she reached her feet. “Looking for my arrow,” she replied. “That’s my arrow,” said the young man facing her. Althea could see the red fletching on the arrows sticking up out of the quiver on his shoulder. “And I suppose it’s your forest, too,” she returned. “Not this glen, but I often hunt here. Everyone in Attica knows it.” He took two steps closer. “Do they now? And why would they care?” “I’m the king’s son, Agoraphobius.” “And I’m the Queen of Sheba!” “You’re never! I’ve met the Queen of Sheba. She’s stayed at the castle. She’s quite old and ugly.” Althea sheathed her dagger and in two quick steps was beside a birch tree. “And I’ll bet she’s a terrible shot, too! I think you stole my stag!” She pulled her green and gray arrow from the tree trunk. “It must have missed by this much!” she held up her thumb and forefinger a hair’s breadth apart. The young Attican hunter moved to where she’d been standing and assessed the angle of her arrow and the position of the stag. “It would have been a sure kill, if it wasn’t a second too late,” he admitted. Althea stuck the arrow back into her quiver. “Thanks, “she said. “Well, I’ll leave your highness and your arrow and your stag and your forest. I’ve got work to do!” “Wait!” the Attican called after her. “What’s your name?” Althea turned and walked backwards a few steps. “I told you, I’m the Queen of Sheba!” she called back. Laughing, she turned and ran lightly into the forest, leaving the Attican staring after her. The moon was new again, rising in the east in company with Aphrodite’s white star, when Althea finished preparing the last pelt she had to cure and headed toward the pool that the river fed with a splashing waterfall. Sheltered by the forest and the rocky wall behind the falling water, it had become her favorite place to relax after a hard day’s work. She’d miss it when she returned north. Hearing more than the usual splashing, the huntress approached the pool carefully, hoping no unfriendly creature would keep her from her swim. But from the edge of the trees, she saw only a single creature in the water, and he didn’t look too unfriendly at all. With a quick scan of the shore, Althea soon spotted a pile of clothing and a leather pack not too far from her vantage point. A quiver of red-tipped arrows hung from a nearby branch. She leaned against the trunk of a tall pine tree to watch the swimmer confidently stroking across the lake toward the waterfall. The Attican climbed out of the water and dived back in again from the big rock at the foot of the waterfall, giving her a fine view of all his manly charms. When he came up for air, he was headed back toward the shore. “Nice day for a swim, eh?” called Althea, stepping out from the shade of the trees as he approached. “Hey, you can’t come in here!” cried the swimmer, spluttering to a sudden stop, his hair in his eyes. “Why not? Oh, wait, don’t tell me. It’s your lake!” “It is now!” he cried. “I was here first!” “Well, your highness, it’s a big lake and I’ve been working hard and I need a bath,” Althea said. Quickly stripping off her tunic and boots, she waded into the water and sank below the surface to wet her hair. “What do you think you’re doing?” the young Attican challenged Althea. “I forbid you to come into this lake!” “Just imagine I’m a nymph!” cried Althea, diving under the water as smoothly as if she were in truth a water spirit. Agoraphobius spun around when she came to the surface behind him. “I thought you were the Queen of Sheba,” he exclaimed, splashing water toward her. Laughing, Althea splashed the young prince and in an instant the lake was churning with white foam as the two swimmers cheerfully splashed and kicked and dove in the clear water, shouting and laughing like a couple of kids. The shadows of the forest all too soon extended across the water, and as the evening grew cool, Althea reluctantly headed for the shore. Agoraphobius climbed onto the bank near his own clothes, shaking water from his blond curls as he got dressed. Althea considered the solitude of her camp as she pulled on her own boots. “I got some quail in my net today,” she said, rising gracefully to her feet as the young prince came toward her. “And there’s some fresh figs and cheese. Care to join me for supper?” The prince of Attica looked over his shoulder as if he too were considering his options. “Love to,” he said as her turned back to face her. “Lead on!” The huntress headed into the trees. “I’m Althea, by the way,” she said as Agoraphobius fell into step beside her. “Daughter of Orion.” *** “Iolaus, are you still here?” Erythiea came out of the house with little Regina on her hip. “We’d better get going or it will be dark before we get home.” She handed the baby over to her sister and pulled her shawl up over her head. “The apples are just there, by the barn,” Gran pointed as she joined her two daughters in the yard. “You’d better come inside now, Mother,” she said to Granthea. “You don’t want to catch a cold now.” “Yes, dear,” said Granthea. Her daughter-in-law couldn’t see the wink that the old lady gave to her great-grandson, who carefully tried to keep a straight face. Iolaus got up reluctantly. Time to go home just when the story was getting interesting! “Bye, Granthea,” he said, bending to give the old lady a hug. “Come and see me again, Iolaus,” she said. “And take these for the trip home.” She pushed the napkin with the remaining nuts into his hand. “Never travel without snacks. Old Hunter’s Trick #12,” she laughed, touching the side of her nose with one finger. “Thanks, Granthea!” he replied with a grin. “I’ll remember that one!” *** Years later, Iolaus smiled as he remembered the day Granthea had told him to travel with snacks. He pulled an apple from his pack as he crossed the border. What adventures would he find in the hunting grounds of Attica? He couldn’t wait to find out. The End May 2006 |