Atalanta

by Jennifer Saint

‘Look, Jason is there,’ he said, pointing to the furthest bench, one that sat higher than all of the others at the end of the hall. While the other benches were grouped together, a cluster of Argonauts and Lemnian women at each, Jason sat alone – with Hypsipyle. She was leaning in close to him, a curtain of hair obscuring her face from where I stood, but I could see his. He gazed at her, enrapt, utterly intent on whatever she was saying to him. He looked more comfortable and content than I had ever seen him. He’d struck me so far as unremarkable, but now, his easy smile and relaxed demeanour made him seem more handsome, more appealing than I’d considered him before. I sighed, frustrated. ‘I’m going in,’ Meleager said. ‘What?’ The horror I felt must have rung clear in my tone because he rushed to reassure me. ‘Not to join them – though they’ll think that’s why I’m here. I’m going to get Jason, make him come out here so we can talk to him together.’ It made sense. If I went in, I was sure it would alert Hypsipyle’s suspicion, but Meleager could easily be one of them. I watched him go, sure and confident as he greeted the crew, brushing off their roars of welcome and the drunken shouting, making his way directly to the leader. At the swell of noise, Jason tore himself away from the queen, looking around to see what the disturbance was. I watched Meleager lean in, Jason listening and Hypsipyle turning away, her displeasure at the interruption clear. I wondered if she would try...