‘I take it,’ I said slowly, ‘that Poseidon is angered that a woman of the Old Religion is his high priestess. Yet he must have sanctioned her appointment.’

‘He did sanction it. But now he is angry – you know the Gods, Peleus! When are they ever consistent? Despite his earlier consent, he is now angry, and says that he will not have his altar served by a daughter of Nereus.’

‘Lykomedes, Lykomedes! Do you honestly believe these God-begotten tales?’ I asked incredulously. ‘I had thought better of you! A man or woman claiming a God for parent is usually born a bastard – and mostly by courtesy of the herdboy or undergroom into the bargain.’

He flapped his arms like an agitated fowl. ‘Yes, yes, yes! I know all this, Peleus, yet I believe! You have not seen her, you do not know her. I have, and I do. She is the strangest creature – ! One look at her, and you will know beyond all doubt that she comes from the Sea.’

By this time I was offended. ‘I can hardly credit my ears! Thank you for the compliment! You want to palm some strange, mad woman off on the High King of Thessalia? Well, I won’t have her!’

Both his hands went out to clasp my right forearm. ‘Peleus, would I serve you a trick like that? I put it badly – I meant you no insult, I swear it! It’s just that as soon as I set eyes on you after so many years, I seemed to know in my heart that she is the woman for you. She doesn’t lack noble suitors, every well-born bachelor on Skyros has offered for her. But she will have none of them. She says she waits for one whom the God has promised to send with a sign.’

I sighed. ‘All right, Lykomedes, I’ll see her. However, I commit myself to nothing, is that understood?’

Poseidon’s sacred precinct and altar – he had no temple as such – lay on the far side of the island, the less fertile and more sparsely inhabited side; a rather peculiar location for the principal shrine of the Lord of the Seas. His favour was vital to any isle, surrounded on all sides by his watery dominions. His moods and his grace determined whether prosperity or famine prevailed; nor was he the Earth Shaker for nothing. I myself had seen the fruits of his rage, whole cities laid flatter than gold under a smith’s hammer. Poseidon was quick to anger and very jealous of his prestige; twice within knowledge Crete had come crashing down beneath his vengeance, when its Kings had grown so puffed up with their own importance that they forgot what they owed him. So it had been with Thera too.

If this woman whom Lykomedes wished me to see was rumoured to be the offspring of Nereus – who had ruled the seas when Kronos ruled the world from Olympos – I could understand the oracles’ demanding her removal from office. Zeus and his brothers had no time for the old Gods whom they had overthrown – well, who could easily forgive a father who ate one?

I came to the precinct alone and on foot, clad in ordinary hunting garb and leading my offering on a length of rope. I wanted her to deem me humdrum, not to know that I was the High King of Thessalia. The altar was perched on a high headland overlooking a little cove; I made my way softly through the sacred grove of trees in front of it, my mind dizzy with the silence and the heavy, suffocating holiness. Even the sea in my ears was muted, though the waves rolled in slowly and crashed down in white bubbles on the rocks at the scarred base of the precipice. The eternal fire burned before the square, plain altar in a golden tripod; I came closer to it, stopped and drew my offering to my side.

Almost reluctantly she emerged into the sunlight, as if she preferred dwelling in a cool and liquid filtration of day. Fascinated, I stared at her. Small, slender and womanly, she yet owned some quality that was not feminine. Instead of the customary dress with all its frills and embroidery she wore a simple robe of the fine, transparent linen the Egyptians weave, and the colour of her skin showed clearly through it, pale and bluish, streaky because the material was inexpertly dyed. Her lips were full but only faintly pink, her eyes changed colour through all the shades and moods of the sea – greys, blues, greens, even wine-dark purple, and she wore no paint on her face save for a thin black line drawn around her eyes and extended outward to give her a slightly sinister look. Her hair was no colour at all, ashen white, with a gleam to it that almost made it seem blue in the dimness of a room.

I advanced, leading my offering. ‘Lady, I am a visitor to your island, and I come to offer to Father Poseidon.’

Nodding, she extended her hand and took the rope from me, then inspected the white bull calf with an expert eye. ‘Father Poseidon will be pleased. It is a long time since I have seen such a fine beast.’

‘As horses and bulls are sacred to him, lady, it seemed proper to offer him what he likes best.’

She stared intently at the altar flame. ‘The time is not auspicious for a sacrifice. I will offer later,’ she said.

‘As you wish, lady.’ I turned to leave.

‘Wait.’

‘Yes, lady?’

‘Who shall I tell the God offers to him?’

‘Peleus, King of Iolkos and High King of Thessalia.’

Her eyes changed rapidly from a clear blue to dark grey. ‘Not an ordinary man. Your father was Aiakos, and his father was Zeus himself. Your brother Telamon is King of Salamis, and you are of the Royal Kindred.’

I smiled. ‘Yes, I am son of Aiakos and brother of Telamon. As to my grandsire – I have no idea. Though I doubt he was the King of the Gods. More likely a bandit who fancied my grandmother.’

‘Impiety, King Peleus,’ she said in measured tones, ‘leads to divine retribution.’

‘I fail to see that I am impious, lady. I worship and offer with complete faith in the Gods.’

‘Yet you disclaim Zeus as your grandsire.’

‘Such tales are told, lady, to enhance a man’s right to a throne, as was certainly true of my father, Aiakos.’

She stroked the white bull calf’s nose absently. ‘You must be staying in the palace. Why did King Lykomedes leave you to come here alone and unheralded?’

‘Because I wished it, lady.’

Having tethered the white bull calf to a ring on the side of a pillar, she turned her back on me.

‘Lady, who accepts my offering?’

Looking at me over her shoulder, she showed me eyes of a cool and neutral grey. ‘I am Thetis, daughter of Nereus. Not by mere hearsay, King Peleus. My father is a great God.’

Time to go. I thanked her and left.

But not to go very far. Careful to keep out of sight of any watcher from the sanctuary, I slithered down the snakepath to the cove below, dumped my spear and sword behind a rock and lay down in the warm yellow sand, shielded by an overhanging cliff. Thetis. Thetis. She definitely did have a look of the sea about her. I even found myself wanting to believe that she was the daughter of a God, for I had gazed too deeply into those chameleon eyes, seen all the storms and calms which affected the sea, an echo of some cold fire defying description. And I wanted her for my wife.

She was interested in me too; my years and tally of experience told me so. The crux of the matter was how strong her attraction might be; within myself I felt a warning of defeat. Thetis would no more marry me than she would any of the other eligible suitors who had asked for her. Though I was not a man for men, I had never cared overmuch for women beyond satiation of an urge even the greatest Gods suffer as painfully as men do. Sometimes I took a woman of the house to sleep with me, but until this moment I had never loved. Whether she knew it or not, Thetis belonged to me. And as I upheld the New Religion in all aspects, she would have no rival wives to contend with. I would be hers alone.

The sun beat down on my back with increasing strength. Noon came; I stripped off my hunting suit to let the hot rays of Helios seep into my skin. But I could not lie still, had to sit up and glare at the sea, blaming it for this new trouble. Then I closed my eyes and sank upon my knees.