Medea. Kerry Greenwood

approached him warily. His hand shot out and pinched my breast. It hurt. I struck the hand away. He chuckled, revealing rotten teeth in a cracked mouth.

      'She's virgin enough,' he said. Trioda bristled.

      'I wish to ride with Anemone,' I announced haughtily. The king raised his eyebrows.

      'You have made a powerful friend in a short time, priestess,' he said, and made a sign which might have been to ward against evil. 'By all means, Princess Medea. If Anemone will have you, you may ride with her.'

      The dogs accompanied me out of the tent. Once in the open, Trioda dusted me down with her hard hand, then gave me a bag of medicines.

      'Remember your teaching,' she chided. 'Do nothing until you must, then act surely and swiftly. The goddess will aid you. Preserve your maidenhood against all force; rather die a maiden than live dishonoured. But in that case make sure that you take your attacker with you to Hekate's judgement. Speak politely to all women, they are your sisters, however strange their ways are. I will see you at the end of autumn, daughter.' She did not kiss me. She turned and walked away.

      I stood clutching the leather bag, feeling a little at a loss - she could at least have told me that she wished me well - when a lazy voice at my elbow commented, 'Old witch. Come along, sister. Anemone sent me to guide you, guessing that Trioda would just leave you. This way,' said a young woman, taking my arm.

      I was minded to resent her dismissal of my mistress like that, but she smiled at me. Her teeth were like seeds in her red mouth, and she had a wealth of beautiful chestnut hair. Kore and Scylla leapt up on her, licking her face. The dog's confidence decided me. Whoever she was, I liked her.

      'I am Iole,' said the young woman, following a twisting path through a maze of caravans and tents. The Scyths live in wagons, which are drawn by oxen or horses. They are lofty, with wide axles, difficult to overturn. They stretch thick hides over high lattice-work sides, making a kind of upturned basket. In them they travel long distances, taking their houses with them like snails. Each Scythian lives alone. The men have their own wagons, and the women theirs. The children live with whichever parent has time to look after them. They are a warlike people, and are much feared.

      They are also averse to washing and not given to hygiene, possibly because water is scarce in the desert and they do not stay in one place for long. The camping ground was filthy with slops and droppings of animals and humans. I was glad we were leaving on the morrow. I gathered up my robe and picked my way through, trying to listen to what Iole was saying. Kore and Scylla, overawed by all the new smells, kept close to me and did not reply to challenges from the Scythian hunting dogs.

      'The last priestess who came with us hated Scythian ways,' she said, avoiding a woman who was washing a recalcitrant child in a shallow dish.

      'Indeed?' I said.

      'She thought we were all barbarians. But Anemone says you are a Scyth in Colchian skin, so she is pleased that you are coming.' Iole turned the corner of a wagon and passed a naked man. He was sitting on the edge of his wagon and mending his breeches. Iole did not give him a second look and I tried not to stare. We skirted an uneasy mare who was suckling her foal.

      'Who is Anemone?' I asked, recognising the painted wagon on which the woman had been perched when she had first hailed me. It was patterned with stripes and spots in various colours, mostly red and orange and yellow.

      'She's the priestess of Ares, our own god, and the wife of the king,' said Iole.

      I halted. When the woman appeared, I bowed. She waved her hand amiably and then extended it so that I could climb aboard. She was very casual, for a queen.

      'Priestess,' she greeted me. 'Sling up that bundle, Iole. Good. Now, little Scyth, we shall have some drink, and you shall settle into Scythian ways which, as you will have seen, are more relaxed than the ways of the court of Aetes. How is he, by the way? Still having fits?'

      'He has banished the sons of Phrixos,' I said, ducking under the woven hanging to come into the wagon.

      It was dim inside. The hides which kept out the weather were not visible. The inside of the basket was hung with patterned cloth, cleverly painted with little horsemen and the animals they hunted: deer with elaborate antlers, oxen and boar. On the walls hung weapons, several bows and full quivers. A basket held clothes, and a pile of carpets and blankets made the queen's bed. It was close and comfortable, after the glare and the dust outside, and I sank down on the bed. Scylla and Kore flanked me, sitting close and nervous, ears back.

      Anemone sat down opposite me. She was wearing breeches of light deerhide and a leather corselet over a linen tunic. Her feet were bare. Her necklace of gold coins chimed as she moved. She was very exotic to a princess who had worn black garments since the cradle.

      'Drink,' she instructed, handing me a wooden cup. I sipped. It was strange but refreshing, tasting a little like fermented apple juice. 'That's kermiss,' she added, 'mare's milk. So, banished Chalkiope's sons, has he? Yet I would have said the threat came closer from his own heart.'

      'Possibly,' I murmured. She gave me a sharp look.

      'Wait until we know each other better, Princess,' she said and smiled. 'Meanwhile, we leave in the morning. I must go to the king directly, but I shall be back soon, and Iole will keep you company. She has no man yet - we really need a battle, or some of our young women will die maidens.'

      I felt that travelling with the Scythians was going to be very interesting.