Oracle (4 page)

‘Where are we going?’ Thetis bounced ahead, her legs brown in her short goatskin tunic, hopping from rock to rock, almost as agile as the goats. At least the goats stop to browse on the brambles, thought Nikko. Their yellow teeth tore at every branch and tussock as though they knew the lean winter was ahead.

‘Somewhere.’

‘That’s what you said before! Where is somewhere?’

‘You’ll see.’

‘Why are we going then?’

‘Because.’ The less Thetis knew the safer they all were, thought Nikko, as he tapped Black Ear with the end of his spear to make her catch up to the others. The goat gave an indignant
aaagh
and leaped away, her udder swaying beneath her.

‘Because of the meeting last night?’

‘That is men’s business, not little girls’.’

He wondered how much she had worked out already, hearing their parents whisper in the night perhaps, or…he shook his head. Who knows what Thetis might have noticed?

‘Why do men have all the business, and not girls?’ Nikko was glad she didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Did you
see that the swallows have flown away? I like herding goats,’ she added. ‘Will you take me out with the goats another time, when there hasn’t been a meeting? It’s not fair that only boys get to watch the goats. Why don’t boys grind the barley? Why don’t they do the digging?’

‘It’s women’s work. Other girls don’t mind.’

‘How do you know?’ Suddenly she stopped, balanced on one foot on her rock like a crane. ‘Are you angry with me, Nikko?’

He forced himself to smile. ‘No.’

‘You’re worried. About me?’

There was no point denying it. Not to Thetis.

‘Yes. Thetis…sometimes you say things that shouldn’t be said.’

‘I know,’ said Thetis. ‘You have told me. Mother has told me. Father growls and looks the other way when I speak. I can see it in people’s faces too. And Aertes hits me when there is no one to see—on my shoulder where no one notices the bruise. Nikko, why do bruises come after someone has hit you? Why do they get worse instead of showing straightaway?’

‘Why didn’t you tell me he hits you?’ Nikko flushed with anger, ignoring the questions. Most of Thetis’s questions had no answer anyway.

Thetis leaped up onto another rock, balancing on one leg and twirling round. ‘Because you would have hit Aertes. Then he would hit you, and he is bigger than you. You would get bruises and want to cry. You don’t like to cry where people see you.’

He felt his heart ache, as though it had been dipped in freezing water. ‘Thetis…try not to hurt people when
you speak. That’s all. It hurt Old Sesteta when you said her wart looked like a bullfrog.’

Thetis danced to the next rock, waving her arms as though she was flying. ‘It does look like a bullfrog. And when she sneezes it looks like it’s jumping too. I don’t mean to hurt. I just say what’s there, that’s all.’ She looked at him seriously. ‘Nikko, how do you stop some words coming out, and not others?’

He shrugged, helpless. ‘I don’t know. It just comes naturally.’

‘Not to me. Nikko, can I ride a goat?

‘No. You’d fall off.’

‘Oh. Nikko?

‘Yes?

‘I can’t help it, you know,’ said Thetis.

His anger melted. Suddenly she sounded older, old as the rocks maybe.

She looked up at him, her eyes steady. ‘When I open my mouth the words just come out…the same things that I’m thinking. I can’t stop them even if I try.’ She hesitated. ‘Do you think I am cursed, Nikko? Do you think that’s why I can’t stop what I say?’

‘No!’

She leaped off her rock and bent down to pick a dried spray of dittany, carefully keeping her face from him. ‘I think…I think other people have the same thoughts as I do, sometimes. But they don’t have to say them.’

Nikko shook his head. ‘Most people don’t see as much as you. Or think as much, maybe.’

‘You see things,’ said Thetis. ‘Things you don’t talk about. But you can pretend things didn’t happen. Like
when father hit you and said no girl would give a dowry to marry you.’

The words were like small daggers. He had to stop them. ‘Thetis, can you try to do something for me? Please?’

‘Yes.’

‘If we see the High King’s men can you promise not to speak to them? Or even not to speak at all till the King’s men are gone. That would be safest. If you can’t stop some words then stop them all, just till the King’s men have gone. Do you think you can do that?’

Thetis thought for a moment, her head on one side like a wren. ‘I think so,’ she said at last. ‘If I see a King’s man I will hold my mouth tight shut, like it’s full of bread and I don’t want it to spill out. King’s men wear those shiny leather skirts, don’t they? With tight belts and jingly things in their ears.’

She jumped over another boulder, then up onto the biggest one around and considered. ‘Maybe it is best if I shut my mouth in front of any stranger, in case he is a High King’s man. Maybe the High King’s men have different clothes they wear at different times, just like the headman’s wife and her red scarf.’

Nikko nodded. ‘Thetis, if you can do that—learn to shut your mouth tight sometimes, so tight you can’t talk—it would be good. Very, very good indeed.’

Thetis looked away, down at the green sweep of the valley. ‘I think it was best when I couldn’t speak at all.’

‘No!’ He vaulted up onto the rock where she stood, and hugged her. ‘Never say that.’

‘All right. You’re not really angry then?

‘No. Never at you.’

She smiled suddenly—the smile that was like the sun gleaming through the trees. ‘Can you make me a butterfly then?’

He grinned back and nodded. She hopped up, light as a cloud. He caught her, and hoisted her onto his shoulders. She crouched there for a moment, then stood up, flapping her arms like the butterfly. ‘You fly too,’ she called.

He laughed. ‘If I wave my arms you’ll fall.’

‘No, I won’t. I’m safe up here.’

‘What if there’s an earthquake?’

She frowned for a second. ‘I think the birds would all fly up if a big earthquake was coming. The goats would have been
baa
ing too. Animals do funny things before the earth shakes. Do you know why, Nikko?’

Nikko shook his head.

Thetis continued, ‘I think I will be safe even if there is an earthquake. You’d grab me fast because you love me.’

She sounded so serene, and so confident…and she was right, thought Nikko. Even if the mountain side ripped open, he’d never let her fall.

‘Just for a moment then.’ He let go of her ankles, ready to grab her if she teetered, and extended his arms. ‘All right?’

‘Of course! Now fly and sing too. The butterfly song you sang before!’

It had been months since he’d made up that song. He hadn’t thought anyone had overheard. But Thetis noticed everything.

He moved his arms, slowly and carefully, up and down like wings, then began to sing. It was a song without words,
for butterflies had no words, only the music of their dance. He could hardly feel Thetis’s feet on his shoulders now.

He glanced up. Above them, the eagle soared, and for a moment it seemed as if it joined their dance as well: the bird, the sunlight and the wind, as though they all became the butterfly together.

The goats gazed at them. The sunlight flickered between the thistles. The wind brushed at his face, as though it was singing too. For a moment Nikko felt as though he was part of it all—wind, rocks, sunlight. He was the earth, singing its strength, and Thetis was the butterfly, dancing above, her small feet pressing into his shoulders as she swayed with the light.

‘Well.’

The music stopped. Not just his song, but the music in his head. Even the wind seemed to suddenly still. Nikko grasped Thetis’s ankles firmly, staring at the stranger.

The stranger stared back at them. As though we’d done something wonderful, thought Nikko. We’re just playing together.

The man was short and slender, thin as a reed down in the stream, and looked as supple. Nikko was used to men with muscled legs and arms, but this man looked strong without the bulge of muscles anywhere.

He was dressed like the High King’s men in a kilt of polished leather dark and shiny as water in a well, with a tight belt to make his waist look slim. But the King’s men Nikko had seen before wore sleeveless leather jackets too, leaving their arms free to fight. They carried swords and spears, and had scars on their arms.

This man was bare-chested. He must have been Father’s age, but he had no hair on his chest at all, nor on his arms or legs. His skin shone like a pot rubbed with oil. His hair and beard were dark and shiny—strangely black, thought Nikko, for this man must be older than his father, but had no hint of grey. His beard hung in tight curls, and was strangely neat at the ends. His hair bounced in tiny plaits, decorated with small stones gleaming in the sunlight. Other stones shone from his earlobes, and wrists and ankles, and from a long gold necklace, too. His hands were empty: he had not even a hunting spear or a knife.

Nikko had never seen gold before, but he knew it looked like sunlight trapped in stone. What sort of a man wore so much gold? What sort of man walked on the mountain without spears?

The stranger still stared at them, his mouth open. Suddenly he smiled. It was a strange smile, as though he had practised many smiles and had chosen this one for today. ‘Are you trying to steal my applause?’ His voice was high and clear.

‘I—I’m sorry. I don’t understand.’ Nikko reached up and lifted Thetis down. She gazed up at the man, then glanced at her brother. Her mouth closed, as tight as if her lips had been sewn together.

She is trying not to speak, realised Nikko. This man in his gold and polished leather had to be from the High King. But surely this man was no tribute-gathering soldier.

‘Your act. With your…sister, is it?’

Nikko nodded. ‘We were just playing.’

The stranger shook his head. ‘An interesting way to play. It was beautiful, boy. I have seen many beautiful things in my life, but none quite like that. Forgive me. I am Orkestres, son of Diamonedes, acrobat to Atreus, son of Pelops, High King of Mycenae, lord of all lands. Except for Egypt of course, and Crete, and Thessaly and Hyperboreans. But we never mention those in the palace.’

Nikko stared at him, trying to find his voice. He had never spoken to a High King’s man before. This man had seen the palace, seen the King. He had even seen the sea!

‘I’m Nikkoledes, son of Giannis.’ Nikko was glad to find his voice steady. ‘And this is my sister, Thetis. Sir, what is an acrobat?’

‘Why, what you and your sister were playing.’ The man—Orkestres—saw he didn’t understand. ‘This,’ he added lightly.

His body flicked, light as a leaf. Suddenly he stood on his hands, not his feet.

Thetis gasped, then shut her lips tight again.

Orkestres walked a couple of handspans, then flicked his body again, over and over. Like a tumbling ball of grass, thought Nikko, dazed. For a half a breath the man was still again. And then his body twisted, so fast it was impossible to follow. But when Nikko had blinked he was a different shape, an impossible shape, bent backward till his hands grasped his ankles.

He straightened, not even out of breath, and smiled at them. It was a smile of amusement now. He knows we have never seen anything like this, thought Nikko. He knows how wonderful he is.

‘Well?’ said Orkestres.

‘It…it is amazing, sir.’

Orkestres bowed. ‘That is my job, to be amazing.’

‘For the High King?’

Orkestres face clouded. ‘Yes, for him. And for lesser kings, men the High King wishes to please or honour. Even, sometimes, for a village like yours, to give your people pleasure and take their mind off paying their tributes, especially in a year like this.’ He looked at them shrewdly. ‘This has been a bad year, has it not?’

‘How did you know?’

The acrobat laughed. ‘The sun and the rain don’t fall for your village alone, you know. It has been a bad year for everyone. Which is why the King needs your tributes,’ he added softly. ‘What will Mycenae eat without the tributes? Yet somehow every village we have been to has forgotten where they put their grain, their goats. So now when we come to a village we separate and go around it, to see what we can find.’ Orkestres gestured at the goats, now nibbling their way further up the mountain. ‘Like these. Perhaps you would like to round them up? It would be a shame not to count these with the others, eh?’

Nikko nodded numbly.

‘And on the way down we can have a little talk about where your village has decided to hide its barley. Although I suspect,’ Orkestres added, ‘the soldiers have found that out already.’

The headman stood white-faced as the village’s goats were herded into the space between the houses. Nikko’s father was one of the men carrying the pots of grain back. They must have only just finished taking them to the cave when the King’s men ordered them to bring them back, thought Nikko, standing with the rest of the boys to make sure the huddled goats didn’t try to break free and run back up the mountain.

His father cast him a look of anger and frustration.

Three King’s men sorted through the goats, choosing one and then another to add to the small pen set up by the headman’s house. Nikko wondered where the tributes were from all the other towns. Had they been taken to Mycenae already?

Orkestres sat on one of the headman’s wooden stools. He seemed to take no interest in the goats now, or the jugs of grain, watching instead the goat roasting on the spit, the women at the hearths outside their huts, stirring pots of barley and herbs, or the barley bread turning brown beneath the cook stones.

Suddenly Nikko realised what Orkestres was doing. He is being admired, he thought. That is his job. The women stare at his clothes and jewels, at his muscles and
his tiny waist in his gold belt, and the men stare at him because he is a stranger. And that takes their mind off what they are losing—a little bit, at any rate.

And maybe his very strangeness reminds them of the High King’s power, as much as the spears and swords of his guards.

Someone tugged his arm. Nikko looked down. It was Thetis.

‘What are you doing here?’ She should be with Mother, he thought, grinding more barley for the bread, and keeping out of the way.

Thetis pointed to her lips, still pressed tightly shut. Nikko almost smiled. So she was keeping her promise not to talk. It was a bit late to worry about letting out the secret now, but he was glad that she was learning to be quiet. She tugged his arm again, and pointed to Orkestres. He noticed their stares. He smiled briefly, and lifted a hand in recognition.

He was absently rubbing his knees, almost as though they hurt. But surely he can’t have the aching sickness, thought Nikko. Only old people got that. People with the aching sickness were all stiff too, not twisting themselves into shapes and leaping from their hands.

The acrobat had left them when they’d come back to the village. Most of the other boys and their goats had already arrived when he and Thetis returned. Or possibly, he thought, they hadn’t had time to leave. The High King’s men must have camped just beyond the village to take it unawares as soon as it was light.

Nikko looked back at the tribute men. They had chosen Black Ear and her kids, and added her to the
pen with the other goats. One of the men held open a big leather sack. As Nikko watched, the headman tipped in a jar of barley, and then another and another. Half-a-dozen ponies were tethered just beyond the headman’s house, chewing thoughtfully at a pile of new-dried hay. The High King’s men were the only people he had ever met with ponies. It would be wonderful to ride a pony, he thought. Almost as wonderful as touching the sea—

‘You!’ Nikko started out of his dream. His father had grabbed his arm. ‘Very friendly with the King’s men, aren’t you?’

‘I…we—’

His father didn’t let him finish. ‘I should have guessed. You come with me. Now. And you too.’ He seized Thetis’s wrist in his other hand. Thetis gave a tiny cry of pain, but didn’t speak.

It was the first time their father had touched her, as far as Nikko could remember.

He tried to pretend nothing was wrong as his father hustled them toward their hut. But everyone was staring at them. Their mother looked up from the hearth as their father half dragged them in. For a moment he thought she was going to protest. But she didn’t. He flung Nikko down on the floor, then seized a branch from the pile of firewood by the door.

‘Father, what is it?’

‘What is it?’ His father grabbed Thetis by the back of her tunic. He lifted her and shook her like a dog with a rat. ‘What is it? Years I have suffered with this cursed child. Years! People snickering. People whispering. But I
did nothing. I bore it all. But now…now…’ His face was so red Nikko was afraid he would explode.

‘But what have we done?’

‘Done?’ The word was a snort. ‘What did I tell you to do? Keep your sister away, I said. Do not let her talk. And now you have ruined the whole village. We will starve because of you. Every man is laughing at me, not able to control even my own children.’

‘But Father, she didn’t—’

‘Don’t lie to me. I saw the King’s man smile at you. You met him up on the mountain, and the girl told him everything—’

If his father asked the other herders, surely they’d tell him the soldiers had discovered them, too. It wasn’t his fault, or Thetis’s. ‘Father—’

‘Quiet!’ His father’s fist caught Nikko on the cheek, sending him sprawling. His mouth filled with blood, salty and hot. For a moment he was too dazed to speak, to see. Dimly he was aware of his mother, crying at the doorway, and Aertes’s face, spiteful and pleased. Then they were gone, and there was just him, Thetis and their father…and the stick.

‘Father!’

‘I said be quiet!’

He doesn’t want to hear, thought Nikko desperately. He doesn’t want to ask if the soldiers discovered others on the mountain. He wants to hit us, has wanted to for years. Now he has a reason.

His father tightened his hand on the stick, and brought it down on Thetis’s back. She inhaled sharply, her face crinkling in pain.

‘This is to teach you not to speak. You understand?’

Thwack. Thwack.

‘Do you understand?’

Thetis nodded frantically. And then she whispered, ‘Yes.’

‘What do you do?’ He lashed downward again and again.

‘I…I will not speak. I will not speak.’

‘No!’ His arms flashed down even harder. ‘You do not make a sound, you understand? What do you do?

Thetis bit her lips. Blood trickled down her arm. Her father shook her again. ‘You do not speak. You do not speak!’

Thetis nodded dumbly. Her breath came in tiny pants. Her father lifted the stick again. It dripped with blood now.

‘Stop it!’

Orkestres stood in the doorway.