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Authors: Cherry Gregory

Tags: #History, #(v5), #Greece

The Girl From Ithaca (32 page)

BOOK: The Girl From Ithaca
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With shaking hands, I lit the oil lamp and inspected the room. It looked the same as before. The clothes were lying untidily on the table. Odysseus’ armour lay on top of his clothes chest and his new shield waited by his bed. What had the intruder taken? I remembered the sounds and the creaking of wood. It had come from the table. I looked again, confused. Nothing was missing. And then it struck me. They hadn’t taken anything at all. Instead, they’d left a wooden box.

I stared at it and walked around, trying to see any signs or marks on its sides. It was ingrained with silver and didn’t look evil. It was almost like a present someone had left for Ellissa or myself. I reached out but then pulled back. The footsteps had sounded quiet and hurried. The intruder had been scared of being seen. There had to be something wrong with the box, because why else would it be placed here so secretly? I chewed my lip. I knew Io would have picked it up without any hesitation and maybe Ellissa would too. I reached for it again and stopped suddenly. I turned and ran through the darkness, towards the lights encircling the feast.

I tapped Odysseus on the shoulder. “Quickly, come back to the hut.”

Only Antilochus noticed when Odysseus followed me and he joined us as I stood at the door, pointing at the box. Odysseus picked it up and I stared at it in his hand. I edged forward to get a better look.

“So you didn’t see anyone?” Odysseus asked.

I shook my head, feeling very stupid now.

Odysseus opened the lid. Antilochus and I leant forward to see inside. Something glittered. Odysseus found a seal stone underneath a large piece of jewellery. He held the seal up to the lamp and frowned.

“Whose seal? Can you tell?” Antilochus whispered.

Odysseus stared at us. “It belongs to Helen.”

“So Helen sent the box?” I said.

“It seems like it.” He picked up the necklace. “And perhaps these jewels mean something, though I’m not sure what.”

“Why would Helen send you jewels?” Antilochus cried.

Odysseus handed me the jewellery. “What do you think, sister? You know more about jewels than I do.”

The amethysts glistened under the flame. My throat tightened as I remembered where I’d seen them before. “Helen. She was wearing them when I saw her in Troy.”

Antilochus stared at me. “You saw Helen in Troy?” Then he turned to my brother. “What’s this Odysseus? What’s been happening that I and my father don’t know about?”

“I’m sure Neomene will tell you of her meeting with Helen, later this evening,” Odysseus said. “But for now, let us concentrate on these jewels. I think we have Helen’s wedding gifts from Menelaus. We know she’s already divorced him according to Trojan law, but the return of the wedding gifts is an attempt to make it official in Greek eyes.”

Antilochus frowned. “But why return it tonight? Ajax is on sentry with his men, so none will be sleeping. I suppose it’s possible someone may have crept through, but it’d be the worst night to try it.”

Odysseus thought for a moment. “Helen might have contacts inside our camp. In which case, tonight would be the best night, while most of us are occupied with the celebrations. Let’s narrow it down. Those we saw at the feast, while Neomene went for her cloak, have to be in the clear.”

“We’re suspicious of Hesta,” Antilochus said, looking at me, “but she was serving wine all the time you were gone. I noticed, because she looked so unhappy. It wasn’t her.”

“I’m glad of it. Her life is dangerous enough without being involved with Helen,” I said.

Odysseus tucked the box inside his cloak. “Ask around over the next few days and see if the women know anything. I’ll give this to Menelaus when I can get him on his own. Hardly a surprise for him, but he might need company.”

“If Helen still cares about him, she wouldn’t want him to be on his own when he got it. Maybe that’s why it was left here,” I said, looking at my brother for confirmation.

Odysseus nodded. “Could be. I doubt it was a mistake. Everyone in the camp can tell the difference between the Ithacan and the Spartan hut, even in the dark.”

Antilochus and I smiled a little but then fell silent. My brother picked a bundle of sticks from Ellissa’s store and piled them into the brazier. He warmed his hands over the invigorated flames. “I’ll go back to support the men with their shepherd’s dance and then look for Menelaus.”

“Suppose I ought to watch, seeing as I helped them practice,” I said.

“No need. If you two want to stay here, it’s a lot warmer than outside. And I don’t think Ellissa will be bothering you for a while, she’s too busy doing deals with Agenor and his friends,” Odysseus said, rubbing his hands together and adjusting his cloak. “Besides, Neomene, you really must explain to Antilochus about our visit to Troy.”

We heard him slip away, closing the door behind him.

“So you’ve been sneaking into Troy to talk with Helen,” Antilochus whispered, taking my cloak.

“With Menelaus and Odysseus, at the very beginning, before the fleet met at Tenedos.”

He put his arms round me. “It sounds long and complicated. I think we need to lie down.”

He stroked my hair very gently and we lay together on my bed. We held each other and we kissed each other and we forgot about Helen and Paris. For that evening at least, Antilochus was my world, I was his, and no one could reach us.

 

 

 

 
 

 

Chapter THIRTY-TWO

 

Barefoot in the Sand

 

T
hree days later Agenor delivered the new sandals Lucus had made for me. He stood back and grinned as I kicked off my old pair and admired the feel of the carefully worked leather.

We heard shouting.

Agenor walked to the door. “Must be from the Spartan camp. Everybody else is hunting across the Hellespont.”

“Then we’d better see what’s wrong,” I said, jumping up without any shoes at all and racing barefoot to the Spartan camp.

“She’s the one!” Menelaus roared, pointing at his slave girl. “She’s the one who betrayed me. Look at her, she admits it! She’s the one who’s been slinking off at night with messages for Helen.”

Lyra was kneeling on the floor with her face over her hands. Menelaus drew his sword. I pressed between them, trying to push him away.

“Move aside, Neomene. She’s betrayed me and the whole Greek army,” he cried.

The girl grabbed my leg. “I didn’t betray King Menelaus. I didn’t betray him, I promise.”

“Then what did you do?” Menelaus demanded, the tip of his sword swaying above girl’s throat.

“I kept my loyalty to Lady Helen. I’ve served her every day since I was ten years old. It’s what I’ve been trained to do. It’s all I can do,” she wailed, staring wide-eyed at the sword.

“Serve Helen? You mean spying on me and revealing our plans to the Trojans?”

“I never told Trojans any plans!” She turned to me. “How could I tell them plans? I don’t know any plans. I’m too busy getting water, lighting the fire, serving food, heating enough water for the king to bathe … and all the other things I have to do. You’ve seen how busy I am, Neomene. I’m too busy for plans.”

Menelaus slammed his sword into the scabbard and stepped back from her. “Not busy enough, it seems. You found time to make your nocturnal visits to Troy.”

“I wanted to find my mistress, that’s all.”

Menelaus gave a dry laugh, “That’s all? The whole Greek army has been trying to find Helen for over three years! So how did one slave girl achieve it?”

The girl darted a look at Menelaus and then back at me.

“Tell him,” I said.

“I went the first night we were here,” Lyra cried. “We’d had that terrible battle. Remember, Neomene, I was in the supply ship with you and Io. When we got to shore, I didn’t know where anything was or what I was meant to do. I didn’t know where to sleep or get washed or anything. I hated it here with all the men. I just wanted to go home.”

Menelaus listened tight-lipped.

“Thestor told me to sleep in one of the ships and he’d see I was safe. But I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to be with Lady Helen. “

“How? How did you get to her?” Menelaus yelled.

“It was easy. There was no barricade and the bridge was still there. I slipped out and walked along the track, that’s all. I knew the way because of the lights round the walls, so I just kept walking till I got there. I thought it’d be simple, just a matter of going up to the gates and telling them I’m Lady Helen’s slave.”

Menelaus snorted.

“I didn’t know anything about Troy, except Helen was there.” Lyra started to sob. “When I got near the gate, a lot of soldiers surrounded me. I told them who I was but they didn’t listen. Then one said a servant had gone to fetch an important man.”

“This man they sent for, can you remember his name?” Menelaus asked, moving his sword away.

“It was the one they call Lord Antimachus. He told me if he found I was a spy, he would kill me.Then he marched me to the great walls and locked me in room. I thought I was going to die.”

“Then what?” Menelaus asked, his voice tight.

Lyra took a deep breath. “Paris came in. He shouted a lot, then he pulled me along passageways and up steps and into his apartment.” She glanced at Menelaus. “Lady Helen was there.”

Menelaus turned and walked to the door. Lyra hesitated, unsure of what to do.

“Tell us what happened with Helen,” I said.

“She didn’t want me there. She said I was to go back to the camp right away.”

“But you agreed to spy for her? Or was it for Paris?” Menelaus murmured, still with his back to us.

“No, no, nothing like that. Lady Helen was worried about me getting back without being seen.”

“But it didn’t stop you going again,” he said.

“It was only three times, for the celebration of her birth, like we used to do at home.”

“And these later visits, how did you get through our sentries and their guards?”

“There’s a small gap in the fence, by the stream. I keep on the road up to the city. Helen tells the Trojans I’m coming, so they know to let me in and escort me to her rooms. We talk together till the third watch and then I leave. I’m always back in time to collect water from the stream and start the morning as usual. No one noticed.”

Menelaus turned round and faced Lyra. “Let me make sure I understand this. You got past Ajax’s sentries and walked up to Troy’s gates, asking to see Helen. Then you stayed with her all night.” He shook his head and laughed. “By the gods, why didn’t I think of that?”

Lyra looked at him, startled.

He wiped his face. “All right, Lyra, when you saw my wife, what did you talk about?”

“The old days, in Sparta.”

Menelaus walked to the door again and glanced over the camp. “Lyra, I accept you only wanted to see Helen. And who can blame you? I’ve wanted to do exactly the same these last three years. However, your secret visits to the enemy put me in a very difficult position.”

I sensed Agenor move to my side as Menelaus turned to face Lyra. “If you go without punishment, there’ll be some in camp who will accuse me of weakness. Do you understand that? The accusation comes quickly since I lost my wife to a Trojan.” He rubbed his face. “Some will regard your visits as treacherous and believe you should die. I have no desire to kill you, but I cannot afford to show weakness. So what’s to be done? ”

Lyra covered her face and started to cry.

“It could be,” I stuttered, “it could be banishment. It’s suitable for treachery. No one could criticise you for that.”

“You’d be that hard on her?” Menelaus said, now staring at me.

“I mean banishment to Troy, where she can be with Helen. Not such a harsh punishment for Lyra and it might help you. The more Helen talks about Sparta, the more she may wish to return.”

He studied me for a moment and then placed his hand on the shoulder of the sobbing girl. “Lyra, is that what you want? Would banishment to Troy be kindness or cruelty?”

“Kindness,” she whispered.

“You understand the risks? When we invade Troy, you could be mistaken for a Trojan. We may kill you.”

“I want to be with Lady Helen.”

Menelaus paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “Then it’s best done straight away. I need you to leave before the hunters return. Go gather your belongings. I’ll have a charioteer take you to the river. I’m assuming you can find your way from there?”

Lyra nodded and ran from the hut. Menelaus sighed, dropped into his chair and put his head in his hands. What was I meant to do? I glanced at Agenor, but he just raised his hands in a gesture of confusion.

I decided to back away quietly, but as we reached the door, Menelaus looked up again. “She’s little more than a child and I could have killed her. Even now, I may be sending her to her death, at risk from both Trojan and Greek.”

“She’s prepared to take the risk, for the sake of Helen,” I said.

“For the sake of Helen, a thousand have died!” Menelaus cried.

There were footsteps at the door. Lyra peered inside with her small bundle of possessions. “Lord Menelaus, I am ready. Shall I wait outside?”

BOOK: The Girl From Ithaca
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