The Oracle of Delphi (Greek Myth Fantasy Series) (9 page)

Eight

Andromeda felt like a rag doll as five pair of hands washed her in rose water, braided her hair, and dressed her in the finest of garments. The women of Dodona even rubbed lilac oil with a hint of cinnamon over her entire body before they dressed her in the virgin white gown interspersed with speckles of gold that glittered like gemstones. They placed a crown of laurel and small red roses around her head and wove tiny white flowers and colorful ribbons into her braid. They didn’t talk at all, as usual, but giggled and whispered so inaudibly to each other she couldn’t understand them.

They held up a polished shield for her to admire herself. She looked at her reflection on the shield, feeling once again like the princess she truly was.

“You’ve done wonders,” she said. “I look beautiful!” She wondered if Perseus would think so as well. Then she wondered if he would kill her for getting him into such a situation.

The women huddled in a circle, talking and looking over their shoulders at her, fiddling with something close to the fire. Then turning her around, they lifted the back of her gown. One of them pulled down her undergarments, and she felt a hot item scald her upon her buttock.

“Ow!” she cried, jumping away, pulling her gown down around her. “What are you doing?”

“They brand you with a mark atop one buttock.”

She turned quickly to see Yrjo standing in the doorway. She wondered how long he had been watching her. She knew satyrs were prolific in mating, always the thought upon their minds. Yrjo, she knew, was no exception.

“How dare you!” she said, rubbing her backside. “I am a princess and should be treated as such.”

“We do it for your own good, Princess Andromeda. It will be the proof your husband has kept his word.”

“That makes no sense.”

“If he can tell us the symbol on your backside, then we will know he succeeded in removing your clothing.”

“And if he cannot?”

“Then we will know he has not consummated the marriage. The symbol cannot be removed. It is made from the sap of the talking oaks. Only with consummation will it disappear, therefore telling us he is a man of his word.”

“You will die for this once I return to Thessaly and tell my father what you have done.”

“You will some day thank me, dear princess. I’ve seen the admiration you hold for Perseus by the way your eyes light up and the way you constantly watch him.”

“My eyes light up with fury,” she told him. “And I only watch him constantly because I don’t trust him.”

“I’m a satyr,” he reminded her with a bleating laugh. “Don’t forget that. I can just smell the lust emanating from you both.”

Andromeda grabbed the flowers one woman held out to her, snatching them so quickly some of the petals fell to her feet.

“You may know of lust, Yrjo, but you know nothing of love. I am a woman with knowledge of emotions. And I know you cannot have a successful marriage if love is not involved.”

“I see,” he said, fingering his beard. “Then I guess you have nothing to worry about. Now come, as your husband-to-be awaits you.”

Andromeda followed the goat-man out of the bathhouse, wondering what he’d meant by his last comment. Could he see something in their relationship that she wasn’t aware of? He had acted as if love existed between Perseus and herself. But she knew better - didn’t she? She walked through the waiting, cheering crowds, wondering.

Perseus felt uncomfortable with the way the women of Dodona bathed and dressed him. He never thought he would not like the feel of a woman’s hands on his body - especially five at once - but he didn’t. He couldn’t help but wish they were Andromeda’s hands rubbing his skin and running her fingers through his hair instead.

He cursed under his breath wondering what he’d gotten himself into. He’d only come to Dodona for an answer. Instead, he’d be leaving with a wife. And to make matters worse, he needed to prove consummation of the marriage. If he didn’t, he’d never find the way to the Gorgon’s dwelling place.

The music started up and the crowd parted. Andromeda walked slowly down the aisle that led to the outdoor dais being used as an altar. Perseus could not help but stare at her. Her beauty beyond compare, this woman truly graced the title of goddess let alone princess.

Her plaited hair lay adorned with small flowers and colorful ribbons, bringing out the bright gold silk-spun color. She raised her face as she approached the dais, her sapphire eyes sparkling brighter than jewels. The women of Dodona had outlined her eyes and painted her lids a lilac blush. Her cheeks were a mere rubbing of rose, her lips red and ripe like cherries. He could not help but stand in awe of her beauty.

She held a bouquet of flowers in front of the low-cut bodice of her gown, and he noticed her hands shaking. He eyed her delicate curves beneath the silken robe and wondered if she’d be too frail to withstand his vigorous lovemaking. He had to remind himself she still had her virginity intact. He had to remember to be gentle, as she wasn’t a randy wench as were the merchant’s twin daughters.

“We will begin.” Yrjo climbed up the stairs of the dais, his hooves clomping over the wooden platform. He held two ribbons in his hands. One was of a brown nature, the other maroon. “Please come before me on the dais.”

Perseus held his hand out to Andromeda, and she gently placed her hand in his as she climbed the stairs to join him. She looked up at him, their eyes meeting, and he saw within her gaze a fondness as well as a fear. Then she looked away and lowered her head.

The satyr wrapped the ribbons around their hands, joining them as one. The brown ribbon signified Perseus and the maroon the woman at his side. He’d barely heard any words at all, except for Andromeda’s sweet voice agreeing to be his wife. Then he heard his own words agreeing to be her husband. His voice sounded foreign to him as he took his vows.

The ribbons were pulled away and the crowd cheered and threw acorns at them. Perseus knew the oaks were sacred to these people and they offered good wishes by throwing acorns; however, he didn’t want Andromeda to be hurt. He picked her up in his arms and pulled her to his chest, carrying her straight for the hut which Yrjo had instructed would be theirs for the night.

Once inside, the door banged closed behind them. He could hear the muffled sounds of the villagers and the festive music, the wedding just one more reason to hold a celebration. The cozy one-room hut boasted a brazen fire pit with the fire already burning brightly. A hole in the roof positioned right above led to an escape for the smoke. A huge bed sat in the middle of the room, and several candles burned on a table nearby. A tall wardrobe was hidden in the shadows in the corner of the room. One wooden chair in the far corner proved the only other place to sit.

“Is it over?” Andromeda asked, bringing her head away from his chest. He liked the feeling of her hands clinging to his shoulders.

“Yes. They’ve stopped throwing acorns,” he told her. “Mayhap someone should tell them we’re not ground squirrels.”

They both laughed and she looked up at him, their mouths close enough to kiss. The scent of lilacs and cinnamon clung to her skin, making him want to trail his tongue over her and taste every bit of her body. But instead, he put her down on the bed and cleared his throat.

“You take the bed tonight. I’ll sleep in the chair.” He unstrapped his sword from around his waist and laid it on the table.

“You know I didn’t plan for this to happen.” She spoke slowly and softly.

“I know.” He sat on the chair to remove his sandals.

“I only wanted you to slay the sea serpent. If you had agreed, the turn of events would be different.”

“I’m not angry with you, if that’s what you think. We did what we had to do, now go to sleep.”

Andromeda could not believe the coldness of her new husband. He acted as if their marriage were nothing more than a pitiful chore. Didn’t it mean anything at all to him? She wondered how he could be so heartless that he had not even sealed their marriage vows with a kiss.

“You don’t want to be married, do you?”

He looked up, his brows raised in question. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t think a husband usually treats his wife with such coldness on their wedding night.”

“A man isn’t usually forced into a marriage not of his choosing either.”

“What difference does it make?” she rallied. “It happens to women all the time. If my parents weren’t trying to protect my virginity hoping I would be the next prophetess to channel the oracle, I would have had an arranged marriage from birth.”

“Don’t worry, I will not threaten your virginity, Princess. As soon as I get my answer and we get the hell out of here, I will be happy to pretend this all never happened.”

That was not what she wanted to hear at all. He’d only married her because of his own selfish needs, thinking of himself once again.

“If you don’t consummate the marriage, Yrjo will never give you the answer of how to find Medusa.”

“Not to worry, dear wife. I have already thought that over.”

“Oh, have you? Without consulting me?” His confidence of his plan did nothing to impress her.

He walked over to the bed, untying his belt, letting his tunic wrap fall to the floor. He stood there only in his braies, his hairless chest bare and shiny in the firelight. She had to stop herself from reaching out and running her hand over his muscles.

“To prove consummation, one has to show a maiden has been pierced by a man,” he told her as if she was not already aware of that fact. “I will just prick my thumb with the tip of my sword and tomorrow we will display the stained sheet and say we’ve consummated the marriage.”

She jumped off the bed, crossing her arms over her chest, eager to prove his plans would fail. For once, the almighty Perseus would be foiled, and it made her smile with pleasure to know it.

“Good idea,” she said with a nod. “If only we were in Athens or Sparta or even on your desolate island of Seriphus. But Dodona is different if you haven’t noticed. The proof of consummation they need cannot be faked by a prick of the thumb.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Perseus plopped down upon the bed and stretched his legs out before him. He clasped his hands beneath his head, the muscles in his chest more pronounced by the action.

“I have a mark,” she told him, almost choking on the words. “On my body,” she added. “If you know not what it is by the morning, then they will know you have failed to remove my clothes.”

He pushed himself up on one arm, his face darkening. His eyes studied her intensely.

“Well, that tells me it is a mark somewhere on an intimate part of your body. A breast perhaps? Why don’t you just tell me what it is.”

Embarrassed, she took the bouquet of flowers still grasped in her hand and threw them across the bed at him. He raised an arm to block the assault.

“I cannot tell you what the mark is, because . . . because they put it where I cannot see it.”

“Oh, it is on your back,” he remarked. “Come hither. I will just pull your gown over your shoulder and have a peek.”

The laurel wreath encircling her head assaulted him next, and if she had hold of anything else she could have thrown at him, she would have gladly done it.

“It’s not there,” she said, not able to stand the embarrassment. “It’s ... it’s on my ...” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

He picked at the wreath of laurel, his eyes never leaving her body. Then his gaze slid lower and settled on her back end.

“Oh. I see. They have branded you on the ass, have they?”

“Perseus! Please.” she turned her back to him, not able to look at him any longer.

Two strong hands gripped her around the waist as he suddenly stood directly behind her.

“Let me see,” he said, and bent her over the bed. She wanted to object, but the feel of his hands gently lifting her skirt up her legs kept her from saying more.

“I don’t see anything,” he told her, and she realized he was staring at her clad bottom end.

“That’s because … it’s under my undergarments,” she blurted out, squeezing her eyes closed as she said it. Could this situation get any worse?

She heard a whoosh of air as he exhaled deeply. Next she felt the gentle pulling of her undergarment, slowly unveiling her bare bottom end almost as if he were unwrapping a present.

“I still don’t see it.” His voice sounded very breathy.

“Lower,” she said through gritted teeth. She wondered if he purposely taunted her, wanting to see her lose control.

She felt him flip her skirt upward, almost covering her head. Then his hot hands slowly pulled her underclothes lower and lower until she felt them slide to the ground and settle at her feet.

“Ah, yes,” she heard him exclaim. “I see it now.”

Her heart beat rapidly within her chest, and the cool rush of air on her bottom end sent a tingling throughout her. She tried to regain her breath as she waited patiently for his answer.

“Well, what is it?” she asked, urging him to finish his perusal quickly.

He hesitated, and she looked over her shoulder toward him. His eyes were half closed and his gaze fixed on her bare bottom as he scrutinized the symbol she had branded upon her.