Fall of Kings (11 page)

As she got down from the chariot, Andromache wondered for a moment how they
were going to get on board, but as they neared the ship, a sturdy wooden ladder
was passed down to the sand at the stern. At the top she could see the
reassuring figure of Gershom leaning down over the rail. He waved and called out
a greeting.

Then curly-haired Oniacus trudged across the sand. “Can you manage, lady? You
can sit in a sling if you prefer.”

“To be hauled up like livestock, Oniacus? My sister and I can manage a
ladder.” She softened the sharp words with a smile, remembering that the man
only recently had lost his family at Dardanos.

“The rest of your belongings are already aboard,” he said. “They are stored
at the rear of the lower deck.”

“And the ebony box?” she asked.

Oniacus nodded. “Safe, lady, alongside your luggage. Your bow is there also,
and two fine quivers. Let us hope you do not find use for them—beyond practice,
I mean.”

Andromache saw that Kassandra was about to speak and cut across her. “Thank
you, Oniacus,” she said. “We also took your advice and brought extra warm
clothing. Oiled woolen cloaks and leggings.”

“That is good. The weather may be savagely cold and wet.”

Andromache took Kassandra by the arm and led her to the ladder. “You go up
first,” she told her. “I will follow and steady your foot if you slip.”

Kassandra laughed. “You think I am some drooling defective who has never
climbed a ladder?” Lifting the hem of her dark ankle-length tunic, she almost
ran up the ladder, taking Gershom’s hand and leaping over the rail. Andromache
followed her.

Safely on the aft deck by the carved steering oar, Andromache immediately
glanced around for sight of Helikaon. He was not yet aboard, and she felt a pang
of disappointment. The crewmen amidships were hauling aboard cargo: bales of
embroidered cloth, sturdy wooden chests, nets full of bread and fruit, and
hundreds of small amphorae strung together with twine and padded with straw.
Other crewmen then lowered the goods to the hold.

Oniacus vaulted over the deck rail and opened a hatch in the deck by
Andromache’s feet. Climbing down to the second oar deck, he called out greetings
to the men below. The buzz of conversation continued as the oarsmen began to
swap stories and catch up on news of their comrades. All of them seemed cheerful
at the prospect of getting under way.

Andromache felt it, too, the exhilaration running through the golden ship.
She glanced at Kassandra. The girl’s eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and
she gazed around with wonder. Because of her strangeness it was easy to forget
that Kassandra was little more than a child—and a child about to embark on a
great adventure.

“Let us get you both settled,” Gershom said. “We are sailing soon.” He stared
hard at Kassandra as if he knew her. “Come,” he said, then led the two women
along the central aisle.

Andromache could see some of the
Xanthos
’ battle scars. There were
fire-blackened rows of decking that needed renewal, and part of the starboard
rail had been repaired roughly with planks. Three carpenters were busy replacing
a section of rail on the port side. They were hammering feverishly.

As she reached the tabernacle, the box at the center of the ship into which
the mast sank securely, Andromache saw that a circular wooden seat had been
built around the thick oak mast. Plaited ropes had been fixed as handholds.
There were half-finished carvings around the edges of the seat.

“We are expecting some rough weather,” Gershom explained. “Even the most
experienced sailors can feel nausea in winter storms. The center of the ship
heaves about least in rough seas. Come here if you feel unwell or if a storm is
looming.”

Andromache nodded and glanced at Kassandra. She looked a little frightened
now, and her face had turned pale. Gershom continued on toward the foredeck.
Glancing down through open hatches, Andromache could see the oarsmen taking
their places in the rowing seats on the lower deck. They were laughing and
shouting and passing water skins back and forth. They kept their eyes averted,
but she knew they were all aware of the two princesses walking above their
heads.

On the foredeck a yellow canopy had been set up to make a private space for
the women. Gershom explained that this was where the pair could sleep and spend
their days during the voyage. Andromache was used to such arrangements on her
trips to and from Thera, but Kassandra looked aghast.

“It’s so small,” she whispered to Andromache.

Andromache was about to point out that the
Xanthos
’ foredeck was
roomier than any other on the Great Green, when silence fell over the ship. She
looked back to see Helikaon climbing onto the aft deck. His long dark hair had
been tied back in a ponytail, and he was wearing a simple tunic of faded blue. A
change came over the crew, a quiet that spoke more of respect than of fear, she
believed. She sensed the power in him. It called out directly to her blood, and
she tore her gaze away, her face reddening.

Eight burly crewmen ran to the foredeck and, splitting up into two teams of
four, untied two long ropes fastened to a thick support. Andromache was
intrigued. “What are they doing?” she asked Gershom.

“Getting ready to haul up the anchors. The
Xanthos
is a heavy beast
and hard to launch. We drop the anchors a little way from our mooring place;
then, when the men heave on the ropes, it helps pull the hull into the water.”

From all over the King’s Beach Andromache watched men come running. Crewmen
from other ships, fishermen, beachmasters, even foreign traders all worked
together, putting their shoulders to the golden hull of the
Xanthos
to
push her out into the bay.

For a moment it seemed the ship would not move. Then a voice shouted,
“Again!” There was a pause, the timbers creaked, there was a deep groaning
sound, the ship moved forward a pace, then another, then suddenly slid into the
water, and they were free and afloat. The men on the foredeck tied off their
ropes, leaving the stone anchors sluicing water on specially strengthened
sections of planking.

The people on the beach cheered as the eighty oars were run out. Then came
the deep voice of Oniacus from belowdecks, supplying a rhythmic beat for the
rowers.

“
One
was an oarsman,

They say he was a bad man,

One
was a slinger,

And certainly a sad man.

One
was a whoreson,

They say he was a madman,

One
was a singer

Who never was a glad man.”

The
Xanthos
moved smoothly away from the beach. The wind was from the
north, from Thraki, and the galley made slow progress for a while as the oarsmen
battled the strong headwind to get out of the shallow Bay of Troy. The ship
moved as if through glue.

“Let’s pick it up, you lazy cowsons!” Oniacus yelled. “Mark of four!”

“
One
had a sword trick,

One
had a treasure,

One
had a big prick,

One
had the pleasure.”

The oars sliced into the churning water and the ship picked up speed, but it
was heavy going, the tide and the wind seeking to drive the great vessel back
toward Troy. The two women stood hand in hand watching the Golden City recede
slowly behind them.

“I will never see Troy again,” Kassandra said. Andromache had heard her speak
those words before, and she had no answer, so she said nothing but put her arm
around her and gently turned her so that they faced the way they were traveling.

“We must look forward,” she said, “not dwell on our sadness.” The image of
her son’s sleeping face invaded her mind and tore at her heart.

“The ship is very slow,” Kassandra said, staring at the muddy water creeping
by below them. She seemed disappointed.

“We will soon be reaching the cape,” Andromache replied. “After that you will
see your dolphin bay and King’s Joy.”

The Cape of Tides was the farthest point north they had to travel. After that
the ship would turn south for the long voyage down the coast. As the
Xanthos
cleared the Bay of Troy, the fierce current in the straits snatched at her. The
vessel lurched and then picked up speed. The prow began to swing. The skill of
the oarsmen came into play, with those on the port side, closest to the land,
dipping their blades and pulling hard and those on the starboard lifting their
oars clear. The
Xanthos
straightened. Gershom shouted an order, and six
crewmen sprang to haul up the yard. The great sail was unfurled, flapping
ferociously against its stays, and as the black horse came into view, the men
all shouted. The rowers drew in their oars. The strong north wind filled the
sail.

And the
Xanthos
leaped forward on its journey south.

Clouds had begun to gather as the
Xanthos
sailed south down the coast,
heading toward the distant chain of islands known as the Great Circle. Standing
at the prow, Gershom stared at the sky, his mood brittle. Though he did not
speak of it, he still had nightmares of shipwrecks and drowning in which he
clung again to the driftwood with bleeding fingers as the storm raged around
him. The big man shivered at the memory and focused on the dark, lowering
clouds.

He had been an oarsman on a cargo ship overloaded with copper oxhide ingots.
It had broken up in what sailors called a blow. Gershom had been the only
survivor. He did not allow himself often to dwell on those dreadful days after
the wreck, but he was feeling ill at ease on this voyage.

Gershom glanced back to where the passengers were standing on the rear deck.
Andromache was gazing out at the barren islands, but the dark-haired,
moon-touched girl was staring at him again. He found her gaze unsettling.

Helikaon joined him at the prow. “We’ll find a secluded bay,” he said, “and
put out scouts.”

“You think we could be attacked this close to Trojan waters?”

“Probably not, but then, I expect Dios felt safe in a Trojan marketplace.”

Gershom fell silent for a moment. The assassination two days earlier had
shocked them all, especially when, under torture, the killer’s son had admitted
they were seeking to kill Helikaon. His father’s poor eyesight had led him to
attack Dios. Gershom looked at his friend, seeing the hurt in his eyes. “In
Egypte,” he said, “the priests say a man’s life is calculated in a celestial
sand measure. When the sand runs out, his life ends.”

“We do not hold to that belief,” Helikaon replied. “I wish it had been me in
that marketplace.”

“You would prefer to be dead?”

Helikaon shook his head. “I wouldn’t
be
dead. I would never have
walked among the crowds unarmed, and I do not believe a fat merchant would have
been fast enough to surprise me.”

Gershom smiled. “Karpophorus surprised you, my friend. But yes, you are a
tougher man than Dios ever was. Even so, you are not invulnerable. Do not let
arrogance blind you to that fact.”

Helikaon took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “I know what you say is
true, Gershom. And I
did
like that fat merchant, so perhaps he would have
gotten close to me. We will never know.”

“Was the son executed?”

“Not yet. The other boy was discovered hiding in a warehouse. They are both
to die tomorrow. Priam has decided they will burn alive on Dios’ funeral pyre
and serve him on the Dark Road.”

“They deserve no less,” Gershom commented. He flicked a glance to the rear
deck and cursed softly. “Why does she keep staring at me?”

Helikaon laughed. “She is barely more than a child. Why does she bother you
so?”

“I have never been comfortable around the insane. They are so… unpredictable.
I saw her in Troy after we docked. She told me that my head was full of mist and
that one day I would see clearly. Her words have been going around and around
inside my head. What do they mean?”

Helikaon put his hand on Gershom’s shoulder and leaned in close. “One moment
you say she is insane, the next you look for meaning in her words? Is that not
itself a sign of madness?”

Gershom grunted. “And
that
is why I am uncomfortable around them. I
fear their afflictions can be transmitted like the plague. If I stand too close,
I will begin howling at the moon.”

“She is not insane, my friend. Cursed would be more accurate. As a babe she
was struck down with the brain fire. Most infants die when afflicted with it,
but she recovered. From that moment she was fey.”

“Could she be a true seer?”

Helikaon shrugged. “Kassandra once told me that she and Hektor and I would
live forever. Later she said that she would die high in the sky, sitting upon a
rock, and that three kings would take to the clouds with her. Does either sound
like genuine prophecy to you?”

As Helikaon spoke, the clouds suddenly cleared and brilliant sunlight
sparkled upon the sea. Islands of dull gray and brown rock instantly were
transformed into shining silver and red gold. Light from the setting sun shone
brightly on the undersides of the rain clouds, turning them to glistening coral.
Gershom gazed in awestruck wonder at the glory of the sunset.

“Have you ever seen such beauty?” Helikaon whispered.

Gershom was about to agree, when he saw that Helikaon was staring toward the
rear of the ship. Gershom turned and saw Andromache, framed in golden light, her
yellow dress shimmering as if formed from molten gold. She was smiling and
pointing out to sea. Gershom swung his gaze to starboard and saw a dolphin rise
from the water, then dive deep.

“It is Cavala,” he heard Kassandra call out happily.