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.