The wind was howling now, swirling sand about their legs.
“Take the mule,” Galenus barked from the door. “And hold tight to the animal.”
Ariston readied the animal, loading it with care while Nikolaos helped her mount.
They left the yard in silence. His jaw clenched. It would be better if they did not speak…
“Good morning,” she said softly. “Or it was, until the winds came.”
He shouldn’t answer.
“Will it rain?” she asked.
He swallowed. “No.”
She said nothing more.
He would remember his place and treat her as he would Athena, as was right. This was his vow, silently uttered; one he repeated as they made the climb to the temple.
A powerful gust of wind buffeted him. He turned quickly, fearful she’d been blown from the mule.
The wind lifted her veils for but a moment, revealing her vulnerability and weakening his resolve. He ripped his gaze from hers and swallowed the words he would offer to soothe her. His knuckles whitened about the mule’s lead rope, pulling the stubborn animal with renewed determination.
He hesitated once they reached the steps of the temple, but knew there was no help for it. He turned to help her from the mule, offering his arm safely covered by his thick leather greaves.
But she was already moving, slipping from the saddle to loosen Athena’s offerings before he could reach her.
“Allow me to help you, priestess.” He watched her fingers fight the coarse rope knots.
She glanced at him, then stepped back. “My thanks, soldier.”
He freed her parcels, hefting the lot into his arms with ease. The wind gusted, prompting him to offer, “May I carry them for you? So none are lost to the wind?”
She nodded, moving towards the temple steps without a word or glance in his direction.
###
She did not meet his eyes as he pulled her offerings from the saddle. It would be her undoing, to find curiosity or sympathy in his grey eyes. Instead, she rushed up the steps and into the safety of her temple. She must pray, and put whatever tenderness she might feel for her guard from her mind… and her heart.
Once inside, she paused, feeling momentarily downtrodden. He entered the temple, cradling her offerings with surprising care.
She did not face him as she spoke, but moved to light the tapers surrounding the temple dais. “Thank you, soldier. You may place them there, by the altar. I know you’ve training to attend to. I’ll not keep you.”
She busied herself, waiting until he was gone before she glanced back.
It was a long trek to the camp Themistocles and the Athenian Council had constructed. But his responsibilities extended far beyond the care of a priestess. It was Ariston who trained new hoplites, led a troop of Ekdromoi soldiers, and offered strategies to the council. He served Athena, yes, but Athens as well. His skill with sword and shield were his tribute to both.
Elpis had learned much for her – never asking her mistress why she gathered such information. If Elpis had asked her, Medusa would not have had an answer.
She lit a long stick, sharpened and dipped in sweet incense, and carried the flame to the four unlit tapers that sat in each corner of the temple. The interior soon glowed warmly, easing some of her torment.
She had purpose to her life. It pleased her to serve the Goddess. And she must concentrate on her duties, cherish them – and them only. Surely then she would forget everything else.
“I did not expect my little one to come.” Athena’s voice was like the ringing of a bell. Not high and shrill, but deep and resonant, with a pleasing timbre.
The Goddess’ voice, like her presence, demanded attention. From her elevated height to the luminescence of her skin, she exuded power.
Medusa fell to her knees, pure pleasure filling her. “Athena. I am here.”