Lord of the Silver Bow (14 page)

There was a group of men around the fire as they approached, along with a tawny-haired young boy, his face ashen and his eyes wide.

Odysseus knelt down by him. “The
Penelope
is a good ship, Xander, a ship of legend. You will be able to tell your grandchildren you sailed on her.”

The boy looked up. “Why did they do that to Zidantas?”

“Listen to me, lad. You could spend a lifetime trying to understand the works of evil men. Their joys are not ours. They love to inflict pain, create suffering, cause harm and death. It empowers them, for beneath the skin they are empty and worthless. Zidantas will walk the Elysian Fields in eternal sunshine, for the gods love a good man.”

“I just want to go home,” the boy said miserably.

“Me, too,” Odysseus told him. “But for now go and get yourself some breakfast and bring me a slab of sweet pie from the stall yonder.”

Two soldiers arrived and laid Andromache’s chests down on the sand. She thanked them, and they moved away. Then Odysseus turned and watched the
Xanthos
sailing across the bay.

He wandered down to the shoreline. Andromache joined him there, and they stood in silence for a while, watching the new sun reflected in fragmented gold on the blue of the sea.

“What is wrong, Odysseus?” she asked him. “Is it the coming battle? Do you fear for your friend?”

Odysseus shivered suddenly. “I am filled with fear, but not for his safety. Helikaon is a fighter, but there are depths to the man that should never be plumbed.”

“I do not understand you.”

He sighed. “Sometimes when a fear is voiced the gods are listening, and they make it real. So let us wait and see whether my fears are groundless.”

Andromache stood with him as the
Xanthos
was eased back from the bay into deeper water. After a while Xander returned with a slab of pie. Odysseus thanked him. When the boy had gone, the Ithakan king stood silently.

“Why
did
they do that to his friend?” asked Andromache.

“To make Helikaon angry, to rob him of reason, to draw him out in a rage.” He swore softly. “Mostly, though, Kolanos did it because he likes to inflict pain. He is a wretch.”

“It seems to have succeeded. Helikaon does seem . . . broken by the loss.”

“It won’t succeed. I know Helikaon. When he sails out, his mind will be calm.” He forced a smile. “He called you ‘goddess’ again.”

“I know. It surprises me that I have not heard his name before.”

“Ah, you probably have. Helikaon is what his friends call him. His name is actually Aeneas, and he is a prince of Dardania.”

“You are right, Odysseus, I have heard that name. The man who didn’t want to be a king.”

“Far more to it than that,” said Odysseus. “Less about what he might have wanted and more about honoring his father. Not that the bastard deserved such a son. Anchises was a vile man. Should have been born with scaled skin like a lizard. He had dispossessed Helikaon and had named his other son, Diomedes, as his heir.”

“Why?”

“A long story. I’ll tell you about it on the voyage to Troy. However, Anchises was murdered on the night we sailed into his bay. Helikaon had been a crew member on the
Penelope
for two years, and we had just beached below his father’s fortress. The assassin struck that night. With the king dead and the named heir still an infant, the situation was ripe for civil war. A nation can have only one king. And you know what would happen in most kingdoms?”

“The child and his mother would be killed,” said Andromache. “Or men loyal to the queen would try to assassinate Helikaon.”

“Exactly. Some of the queen’s followers arrived on the beach, intent on killing him. Other loyal men gathered around to stop them. The men of the
Penelope
had weapons in their hands. They would have fought for Helikaon, for they loved him. Still do. There should have been a battle.” Odysseus chuckled. “By the balls of Ares, you know what he did? At seventeen! He ordered everyone to sheathe their weapons, approached the men who had come to kill him, and told them to take him to the queen. She was in her apartments, surrounded by loyal guards. She was terrified, for Halysia, though a sweet girl, is not a strong woman. Helikaon told her that the child would be safe and that she would not be harmed. He then pledged to follow his father’s wishes and swore allegiance to Halysia and Diomedes. He was standing there unarmed, completely in her power, yet he had won. His authority had overwhelmed them all. That and the sincerity he radiated. Over the next few months he reorganized the kingdom and appointed new counselors to serve the queen. No battles, no civil war, no killings. Unusual, you agree?”

“Yes, it is,” she said. “Why did he do it?”

“You must ask him that. He might even tell you.” Odysseus moved to the shoreline and sat down on a rock. “There’ll be no ships sailing for a while,” he said. “So we will breakfast here.” He began to eat the pie Xander had brought.

“Tell me of Helikaon,” Andromache said, seating herself close by. “Does he have children?”

Odysseus chuckled. “You mean, is he wed? No. He is waiting for love. I hope he finds it.”

“Why would he not? He is young and rich and brave.”

“Yes, he is brave, but love requires a different kind of courage, Andromache.”

She smiled. “That makes no sense to me.”

Odysseus shrugged. “There is one act a warrior prays he will never be forced to submit to and yet must if he is to know love.”

“This is another riddle, and I am not good with riddles,” she said.

“Few are. Warriors fear surrender. They are proud and defiant. They will fight to the death for what they believe in. They will struggle to conquer. Love is not about conquest. The truth is, a man can find true love only when he surrenders to it. When he opens his heart to the partner of his soul and says: ‘Here it is! The very essence of me! It is yours to nurture or destroy.’ ”

Andromache looked into the face of the ugly king and felt great warmth for him. “Ah, Odysseus,” she said. “Now I see why Penelope loves you.”

He reddened. “I talk too much,” he grumbled.

“You think Helikaon is frightened to love?”

“He is a fine man, but he was once a child of tragedy and sorrow. It left its mark on him.”

They stood in silence for a while. Then Andromache said, “He is a friend of Hektor, you said.”

“More than that. They are closer than brothers. For a year Helikaon lived in Troy, building his fleet. He stayed with Hektor, even rode with the Trojan Horse once, so I’m told. They are a sight to see. Best horsemen anywhere. You like horses?”

“I love to ride.”

“Then you will adore living with Hektor. No one knows more about horses or breeds finer mounts. Horses are his passion.”

“Now, that is a disquieting thought,” she said drily.

Odysseus laughed. “And following on from your comment last night: Hektor doesn’t get drunk, and only belches to be polite. As to rushing off to wars, I never met a man who likes war less or does it better. Left to himself, Hektor would stay on his horse farm and never ride to battle.”

“You like him.”

“Aye, I do, Andromache. In a violent world he is the bright morning after a storm. He will do his best to make you happy.”

“My happiness is not in the gift of others. I will be happy or I will not be happy. No man will supply it or deprive me of it.”

“You live by a hard philosophy, Andromache. You are right, though, in that not one of us is responsible for the happiness of others. Ironically, we can be responsible for another’s
unhappiness.
” He glanced out to the bay to see the
Xanthos
moving out onto open sea.

“I think they will rue what they did to Zidantas,” he said. Then he sighed. “We may all come to rue it.”

XIII

THE SHIP OF FLAMES

I

On the deck of the
Xanthos
the crew was working feverishly. Four more of Khalkeus’ new weapons had been carried from the hold in sections and were now, under the watchful eye of Oniacus, being bolted to the deck. Men not working on construction were donning leather breastplates and helmets and gathering up bow, quiver, and sword. Helikaon buckled on his bronze armor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a powerful black-bearded figure approach. His heart lifted, and for a moment he thought it was Zidantas. Then, as the harsh realization of Ox’s death struck him anew, his stomach twisted. The Egypteian Gershom moved alongside him.

“You should have stayed ashore,” Helikaon said, more harshly than he intended. “Only fighting men are needed here.”

The man’s dark eyes flashed with anger. “I am no sailor, Helikaon, but you will find I know how to fight.”

“Show me your hands.”

Gershom held them out. Both were bandaged, and there was blood seeping through the linen.

“You couldn’t grip a sword.”

“No,” admitted Gershom. “But by your leave I will carry the club of Zidantas. I knew him only a day, but he came into the sea for me, and I owe him. And Oniacus tells me that Zidantas always stood by you in a fight.”

Helikaon nodded. “Yes, he did.” He took a deep breath. “It will be as you say, Gershom. Remain close to me.” Then he called out to Oniacus. The black-haired oarsman ran to the rear deck. “You know what to expect outside the bay?” Helikaon asked.

“Poseidon’s trident, I would think,” answered Oniacus.

“That would be my guess also,” Helikaon agreed. “Kolanos will have the command ship, so he will be the first prong and farthest from us. As soon as we are in sight of him I want oars at six. We will close on him at maximum speed.”

Oniacus looked worried. “That will leave both of the other galleys with sight of our beams,” he observed. “If they come at us fast, we could be breached.”

Helikaon ignored the comment. “I want men with ropes and hooks at prow and stern, along with ten of our best fighters, ready to grapple.”

Oniacus nodded. “You think the crippled swan will work against
three
enemies?”

“No. We’ll need to take out at least one with the fire hurlers. Concentrate on the command ship. It must be forced back; otherwise we could be rammed on two sides. I think the
Xanthos
could withstand it, but each of those galleys carries more than fifty fighting men. If they all close with us, we’ll be outnumbered more than two to one.”

“I’ll be on the prow weapon myself. I won’t miss, Golden One.”

Oniacus had been the most proficient of the men trained secretly in Kypros on the new weapons. The men chosen had been the steadiest and least excitable. It was vital, Helikaon knew, that no careless sailor be put in charge of
nephthar.
The acrid, foul-smelling liquid was highly flammable and almost impossible to douse once lit. It burned even more brightly when water was added to it. The
Xanthos
carried eighty clay balls, wax-sealed and filled with the precious liquid. Each ball, the size of a man’s head, cost the equivalent of five good horses, eight oxen, or twenty untrained slaves. And an accident could turn the
Xanthos
into a ship of flame.

“Make sure the men know exactly what we plan,” Helikaon warned. “We won’t know until the last moment which galley we’ll swan. I don’t want to see our oars splintered as we turn or a
nephthar
ball dropped.”

“Yes, lord,” answered Oniacus.

Helikaon walked back to where the nail-studded club of Zidantas had been laid by the steering oar. Hefting it, he passed it to Gershom.

“Find yourself a breastplate and helmet,” he said, “and then return here.”

Gershom moved away, and Helikaon turned to the steersman, the straggly-bearded Epeus. “Where is your shield?”

“I forgot it, lord.”

“Fetch it now,” ordered Helikaon, stepping in and laying his arm over the oar. “You’ll be the man every Mykene bowman will try to bring down.”

“They’ll not hit me,” Epeus replied with a wide smile. “A seer told me last night that I’d live to be eighty years old, with ten sons and thirty grandchildren.”

“May he be proved right,” said Helikaon. “Now get your shield.”

As the steersman ran down to the main deck, Helikaon stared out over the bay and the open sea beyond. The sky was blue and clear, the sea calm, the winds light. The Mykene galleys were not in sight yet. He guessed that one would be just beyond the headland to the south and the other two behind the outer island, one to the west and the other to the north. They would come at the
Xanthos
in a trident formation, knowing that no matter how maneuverable the ship might be, she could not protect her beams from a three-pronged attack. The object would be for one, perhaps two, of the galleys to ram the
Xanthos
amidships, breaching the hull. Once she was caught and taking on water, the other galleys could close in and their warriors would swarm aboard. Kolanos knew his ships would be faster than the heavier
Xanthos,
but he would not know of the fire hurlers or the supply of
nephthar
they could hurl.

Epeus returned, a tall curved shield strapped to his left arm. It was of black and white cowhide, edged with bronze, and would stop most shafts. Behind him came Gershom. The man was heavily muscled; though not as large as Zidantas, he looked as if he would have little difficulty wielding the heavy club. Thoughts of Zidantas weighed heavily on Helikaon’s heart as the ship moved across the bay.

Argurios had been right. Had it not been for the mutilation of Alektruon’s corpse, Zidantas probably would have been alive now. Guilt tore at him. In all his life he had known three true friends: Odysseus, Hektor, and Zidantas. Now one of them was gone.

Gershom’s voice cut through the darkness of his thoughts. “What is the crippled swan?” he asked.

“A maneuver to swing the ship. Imagine a swan with a broken wing trying to take off from a lake. It spins around and around. With a well-trained crew a galley can do the same. If it works, follow me, for I will be boarding one of their vessels, and the fighting will be fierce.”

“I will be alongside you, Golden One.”

Helikaon glanced back toward the beach. He could see the now tiny figure of Odysseus standing at the water’s edge, the beautiful Andromache beside him. Andromache’s face appeared in his mind. Odysseus often told stories of men who fell in love in an instant, as he eventually had with Penelope. Helikaon had not believed in such miracles. Love surely had to grow through understanding and fellowship, mutual trust, and the arrival of children. Now he was not so sure.

Last night the sight of her had struck him like a thunderbolt. Today, even while suffering the loss of his friend, he had gazed upon her and felt a longing he had never before experienced. A sudden and embarrassing thought came to him. He looked at Gershom.

“Were you close enough on the beach to hear my conversation with the Fat King?”

“Yes.”

“Do you recall what I called the woman with him?”

“You called her ‘goddess.’ ”

Helikaon swore.

“She had a hard face,” said Gershom.

“Not hard. Strong. She is a woman of passion and also compassion. Intelligent, courageous, and fiercely loyal.”

“You know her, then? I thought she was a stranger to you.”

“My soul knows her.”

Slowly the
Xanthos
slid past the island at the mouth of the bay. Ahead, about half a mile to the west, Helikaon saw the Mykene command ship of Kolanos, the painted red eyes on the prow seeming to stare malevolently at the
Xanthos.

“You see him, Oniacus?” Helikaon called out.

“I do, lord,” Oniacus shouted back.

Helikaon scanned the
Xanthos.
Four men stood by each of the five fire hurlers. Archers knelt close by. Small copper braziers full of burning coals had been set near the deck rails, and the bowmen were busy tying oil-soaked rags around their shafts.

“Ready the
nephthar
!” Helikaon ordered. Each crewman sprang to action, two men drawing back the weapons and hooking trigger ropes over jutting release bars. Then they carefully eased the large wax-sealed clay pots into the firing baskets.

The
Xanthos
moved out onto open sea. From the south another galley emerged from behind the headland, oars cutting into the water as it surged toward them. Helikaon glanced to his right. The third galley came into sight from the north, sunlight gleaming on the bronze ram beneath its prow.

“Ready oars!” bellowed Helikaon, transferring his gaze west to the Mykene command ship. It was beating toward them at speed some quarter mile ahead. “Oars six!”

The
Xanthos
leapt forward as the sixty oars cut into the still blue water. Picking up speed, the ship headed directly for Kolanos and his blood-eyed command galley. The enemy vessel from the south was closing, but the
Xanthos
moved beyond it.

Fire arrows sailed overhead. Several burning shafts struck the deck. Crewmen covered them with wet cloths, beating out the flames. The galley from the north was being rowed hard, hurtling toward the starboard beam. It would strike like a spear through the heart, the bronze ram splintering the hull. Helikaon stood grimly, watching the advancing ship.

All depended now on the skill of the
nephthar
crews.

In that moment a great calm descended on the Dardanian prince. It seemed that time slowed. Beside him, armed with the nail-studded club of Zidantas, stood the powerful form of Gershom. There was no fear apparent in the man.

Oniacus shouted out a command, and a hurler on the starboard side was released, the wooden throwing arm snapping upright. The
nephthar
ball sailed through the air, shattering on the deck of the advancing Mykene vessel. Another ball followed it. It struck true, breaking into shards and spraying acrid liquid over the port-side oarsmen. Archers on the
Xanthos
dipped their shafts into the fire braziers, then loosed flaming arrows, which arched across the sky to the galley’s deck.

A fire began, spreading along the planks with impossible speed. Flames erupted everywhere. One of the rowers, who had been doused with
nephthar,
was beating at his blazing tunic, but then his hands began to burn. Two enemy crewmen hurled buckets of water on the flames. The result was devastating. With a great
whoosh
the fire billowed higher. Men ran back in panic from the oars, and the galley slid to port.

As the
Xanthos
glided by, archers sent bronze-tipped shafts into the panicked crew of the enemy ship. The Mykene, many of them with their clothes aflame, leapt into the sea. Even there the fires continued to burn. Two more clay balls struck the center of the galley’s deck.
Nephthar
had flowed down to the hold, and the deserted ship wallowed on the sea, fire burning through its timbers.

The other four hurlers let fly, this time at the command ship of Kolanos. Three of the balls flopped into the sea, but one hit the port side, spraying its contents over the rowers. More fire arrows flew through the sky. One shaft landed on the deck, and Helikaon could see crewmen beating at the flames with blankets and cloaks. These, too, began to blaze.

Then the command ship veered away, and fled from the fight.

Helikaon was about to order his rowers to give chase when an arrow flew past him, thudding into the deck rail. Glancing back, he saw the last of the galleys closing from behind. Anger ripped through him. There was no time to pursue the fleeing Kolanos.

“Crippled swan starboard!” he yelled.

The rowers on the port side plunged their oars deep into the water, then lifted them clear, while to starboard the crewmen rowed with all their might. The
Xanthos
lurched and then swung swiftly. The pursuing galley powered on, seeking to use its ram as the
Xanthos
showed her beam. But the galley’s captain misjudged the speed of the turn, and as the two ships came together they were almost head on. The starboard
Xanthos
rowers dragged in their oars. The Mykene were not quick enough, and many of their oars were snapped and shattered as the ships ground together. Several men at the prow of the
Xanthos
hurled grappling lines down, the hooks biting into the deck rails of the galley below. Other men toward the stern did the same thing. Hauling on the ropes, they drew the ships together.

Helikaon donned his bronze helmet and ran down the center deck to where the toughest of his crew waited, swords in hand. Clambering over the rail, Helikaon shouted: “For Zidantas!” Then he leapt down to the Mykene deck below. Enemy crewmen armed with swords, axes, and clubs rushed to meet the invaders. Helikaon hammered his blade across the face of the first, shoulder charged another man to the deck, then leapt forward to drive his sword through the chest of a third. A fourth attacker aimed a blow at his head, but a huge club swept him from his feet. Gershom surged into the melee, the club of Zidantas thundering against bronze armor and hurling men to the deck. More
Xanthos
warriors clambered down to the galley, and the fighting was brutal and bloody. Helikaon killed another crewman. The battle was fierce now. Three warriors rushed at him. He parried a sword thrust from the first, and his foot slipped on the blood-smeared deck. As he fell, he threw himself forward, rolling into the legs of another attacker, knocking the man from his feet. Twisting onto his back, he blocked a plunging sword and hacked a blow at the man’s legs.

A slim crewman from the
Xanthos,
carrying two curved daggers, charged in, slicing a blade through the attacker’s throat. Helikaon surged to his feet. Gershom was to his right, the crewman to his left. Mykene warriors rushed at the three.

Helikaon charged to meet the new threat. Gershom and the crewman leapt forward with him, and together they cleaved the Mykene ranks, cutting and killing.

Helikaon saw the Mykene Glaukos, sword in hand. Fury swept through him, and he cut down the opponent facing him and ran at the Mykene warrior. Arrows began to rain down from the decks above.