Ariadne(70)

It did not seem likely that this vast ship brought any quick-witted, fleet-footed maenads seeking their liberty, nor was it steered by the pleasant but libidinous drunkards that celebrated him across other lands. So who could be at the helm of this ship and what did he mean by his approach? I had to decide what to do – and quickly. It was the tradition to welcome all and sundry, for hospitality was king to us all. Who knew when any one of us could wash up on distant shores, seeking a hearty dinner and a warm bed for the night? Your stranger could be a prince in rags – or even a god disguised as a humble mortal to test your kindness.

The maenads had seen the approaching ship as well, and flutters of anxiety were rippling through the villa and the surrounding fields as they murmured as to who it could be. The first in an angry army of men, come to claim back their errant womenfolk? So they feared, and it was their fear that made me strangely calm. ‘Do not worry,’ I instructed them, and busied them with tasks and errands: to pour wine ready into golden cups, to sweep the floor clear so that our guests’ robes would not trail in dust, to shake out beds stuffed with feathers fresh for the comfort of weary travellers. In doing this, I calmed myself enough to walk down to the beach, quietly composed.

A ship from Athens. I had not given Theseus a moment’s thought in many years, but I thought of him now. Could this be a belated – extremely belated – return of some sort? What could he want with me now? Had he heard of my survival, of the unexpected and triumphant reversal of my fortunes? Did he cross these waves, cool and arrogant as ever, with the expectation that I would accede to whatever imperious demands he may make of me now? Or did he come craven with apologies, hoping to win the favour of my immortal husband?

I could not decide how I would respond to either version of Theseus. I sought in my breast for any words of reproach or anger but found to my surprise that there were none. I stroked the soft-furred head of the baby swaddled asleep at my breast, wondrously peaceful for the moment. How could I care what Theseus had done to me all those years ago?

I stood on the sand and watched as the great ship made anchor. In due course, a smaller boat detached itself from the mighty wooden bulk and someone rowed it across the waves towards me. As it neared, I could not discern the broad stature of Theseus. Even if time had softened the heavy musculature, it would not have made him so slight as the figure that came ever closer. I shaded my eyes with my hand to see more clearly. I thought that I could see a ripple of yellow curls, very like the ones which fell around my own shoulders. My heart quickened in my chest. I felt my breath catch in my throat and tears rose unbidden to my eyes as I pressed my hand against my mouth.

She was there in front of me in moments. Unheeding of the surf that crashed around her feet, she leapt from the boat with that lithe agility I remembered from those long-ago days at Knossos. ‘Ariadne!’ she called, just as I breathed her name and before I knew it, I held my little sister close again.

‘Phaedra,’ I gasped. ‘How can . . . where did . . . what are—?’

She laughed and stepped back a little, her face changing as she took note of the sleeping Tauropolis swathed in a long cloth that was tied around me. ‘I can’t believe . . .’ she said, and I nodded. Tears glistened in her eyes as well as mine as she reached out a tentative hand and brushed the baby’s fingers with her own. He stirred, frowned and settled once more. ‘I did not think I would ever see you again.’ She spoke in low tones.

I knew that there was joy at our reunion in her voice, but there was something else as well, something I could not identify. What had brought her here after so much time?

As she looked me full in the face, I felt the reverberating shock of familiarity. The same set of features looked back at me as the last time we had seen each other, under the moonlight in Crete, where we had plotted the destruction of our own family. I could see still that familiar defiance burning steadily on. The way that Phaedra had always looked out at the world as if to say that it could do its best but it would find in her slight frame a far mightier adversary than it suspected. I wondered what she saw when she looked at me?

I was overflowing with questions, but I dipped my gaze from hers. Hospitality dictated that I must make our guests welcome first. ‘Come, let your crew disembark,’ I urged. ‘We have fish freshly caught and as much wine as you can drink, of course.’ I laughed awkwardly, feeling horribly unsure all of a sudden how to receive her, how to talk to the woman who had sprung up from the child I’d loved so easily and left so abruptly. Fortunately, my maenads were better equipped than me to rise to the occasion and ushered our visitors forward with genuine smiles of welcome.

I noticed the ease with which Phaedra commanded the men she sailed with. As she directed them to avail themselves of my maenads’ hospitality, I saw for a moment the imperious jut of Minos’ chin and the way his clipped words had always inspired instant compliance.

Baby Tauropolis stirred, kicked out a chubby ankle and caught it in the folds of the shawl that wrapped him. An angry red flush stained his cheeks, spreading as far as his temples as he arched his little back and opened his mouth to wail. I jiggled him helplessly, murmuring futile soothing words which only served to enrage him further, before following the procession making its way towards the villa.

Phaedra inclined her head to me, suggesting that we walk outside from the busy hall in which her men now sat at our long table, eating heartily. I was glad to step into the shade of the courtyard, away from the clatter of cutlery and the discordant rumble of male voices, so different from the usual chorus of female chatter.