Part 21 (1/2)
”And Banokles,” Skorpios pointed out.
Justinos chuckled. ”Yes, and Banokles, I suppose. I'd feel sorry for the man, but anyone with the b.a.l.l.s to marry Big Red should be able to cope with being a general.”
”Why would anyone marry a wh.o.r.e?” Skorpios asked.
”Now, that is just plain stupid,” Justinos snapped. ”What does being a wh.o.r.e have to do with anything?”
”Would you marry a wh.o.r.e?”
”Why not? If I loved her and if she could give me sons.”
Skorpios looked at him in disbelief. ”But they are unG.o.dly and impure.”
Justinos' eyes narrowed, and his face darkened. ”UnG.o.dly? By the b.a.l.l.s of Ares, I am glad I wasn't raised in your little village. You listen to me, Skorpios. My mother was a wh.o.r.e, my father unknown. I was raised among wh.o.r.es. A few were nasty, some evil, some grasping. But most were ordinary, like you and me. Many were loving, honest, and compa.s.sionate. Just people doing whatever they had to in order to survive. UnG.o.dly and impure? If you weren't my friend, I'd ram your head against that tree trunk there. Now shut up and let me sleep.”
Justinos lay down once more, turning his back on his friend and tugging his blanket over his shoulder.
Skorpios sat with his back against an oak tree and dozed for a while. The moon was high in a clear sky when they heard the thunder of hoofbeats, hundreds of them, that told him Hektor's Trojan Horse had caught up with them. He kicked Justinos awake, and they both quickly lit prepared torches and stood holding them high. Within heartbeats they were surrounded by riders on horseback, dust kicking up around them, their armor s.h.i.+ning in the moonlight.
Out of the darkness rode a huge warrior on a bay stallion. He leaned down toward them, and his golden hair seemed to flicker in the torchlight.
”Justinos. Skorpios. Anything to report?” Hektor asked.
Justinos stepped forward. ”Nothing, lord. All we've seen all day are birds and rabbits and some bear. It's as if the countryside is deserted.”
”It is deserted,” the prince agreed. ”I expected Agamemnon to mount an ambush on our route. He knew we would be coming. But it seems I'm wrong. Perhaps he has thrown everything he has at Troy.”
He sat back on his horse and looked up for a moment at the full moon. Then, raising his voice above the snorting of horses and the quiet conversation of the riders, he shouted. ”No stopping tonight, lads! We ride through the night!”
Justinos and Skorpios quickly began to pack their equipment as horses surged around them.
”It seems, boy,” Justinos said quietly, ”tomorrow has arrived earlier than we expected.”
The time pa.s.sed with excruciating slowness as the b.l.o.o.d.y slaughter on the plain went on. For Kalliades the days were starting to blur together. In the light of day he fought alongside the men of the Scamandrian regiment, the sword of Argurios hacking and slas.h.i.+ng at the enemy. There was no place here for sword-fighting skills, just b.l.o.o.d.y butchery. At night he rested where he could, sheer exhaustion tumbling him into sleep despite the moans and cries of the dying and the thick stench of hundreds of burning corpses in his nostrils.
On the fifth morning, he awoke to find that dawn had long pa.s.sed and the sun was high in the sky, yet the enemy still had not attacked.
Weary beyond words, Kalliades sat his horse alongside Banokles, Antiphones, and General Lucan of the Heraklion regiment, a small wiry man with bandy legs, his hair grizzled and his face deeply lined, who had served his king and Troy for time out of mind.
Kalliades looked at Banokles, who sat staring at Agamemnon's armies, his face expressionless, his blue eyes as cold as winter rain. When Kalliades had heard of Red's death, he had rushed to his friend's house and found him slumped in the corner of the courtyard, his eyes fixed on the mutilated corpse of the old baker. Banokles had not spoken but had stood and left his home without looking again at his wife's body. He had returned to the battlefield and sat all night by the river, waiting for the enemy's attack. Since then he had fought like a man possessed, his two swords dealing death wherever he walked. The Scamandrians wors.h.i.+pped him as Herakles reborn and fought like demons beside him, awed by his untiring and relentless attacks on the enemy.
”Here we go,” Banokles said, his voice flat, and Kalliades turned back to the field of battle, where the enemy armies were forming up. In the center was the Mykene phalanx, but narrower than they had seen it before, flanked on each side by another infantry phalanx, then cavalry at the wings.
”Thessalian infantry and cavalry on our left. Achilles will be there with his Myrmidons,” said old Lucan, squinting. ”I can't make out who they've got on the right today.”
”Kretans,” Banokles said. ”Kretan hors.e.m.e.n, anyway. Gutsy bunch, they are. I'm surprised they haven't thrown them in before.”
”They may have just arrived,” Antiphones rumbled. ”s.h.i.+ps are sailing into the Bay of Herakles every day, and not just with food and weapons. Mercenaries are coming from all over the Great Green in the hope of winning some of Priam's treasure. That's probably a mercenary regiment on the right.”
”They'll be fresh,” Kalliades said. ”Fresh horses, too.”
”Fresh or not, they'll be dead come nightfall,” Banokles said, stepping down from his horse. Kalliades followed him.
Antiphones leaned down from his mount. ”A general should start a battle at the rear of his army,” he said tiredly, as he had said each day. ”He cannot judge the disposal of his forces from the front.”
Banokles ignored him as usual and walked along the ranks to his left to stand at the head of his Scamandrians. The foot soldiers cheered, and Kalliades saw some of the weariness fall away from them as the chant rippled down the infantry front line: ”Banokles! Banokles! Banokles! BANOKLES!”
Kalliades looked up at Antiphones and shrugged, then went to take his place beside his friend, drawing the sword of Argurios. Antiphones and Lucan turned their horses and guided them back through the ranks.
Antiphones had ordered the Scamandrians to take the left of the field, the Heraklions the right. At the center was the elite infantry, Priam's Eagles, and behind them a force of three hundred Phrygian archers, flanked on each side by the Ilos regiment and mercenaries from Maeonia. The tiny force of surviving Trojan Horse was left in reserve on the far side of the river. Most carried wounds, as did their mounts.
Kalliades saw sunlight glittering off armor as the Mykene army began to move toward them. He settled his helm into place and checked the straps of his breastplate.
”What are we waiting for, lads?” Banokles shouted. Drawing both of his swords, he started to run toward the enemy.
At the rear Antiphones waited until he could see the faces of the advancing Mykene. Then he gave an order, and the Phrygian archers bent their bows to rain arrows over the heads of their own troops and into the front lines of the oncoming soldiers. Just three times they shot, and then, as ordered, they retreated across the wooden bridges to the north bank, ready to halt the enemy if they reached the river.
Kalliades, running side by side with Banokles toward the phalanx, saw the arrows soar over their heads and glance off Mykene s.h.i.+elds and helms. But some cut through, gouging into faces, arms, and legs and making the advancing line falter as men stumbled and fell.
As he ran, Kalliades found new strength. He focused on a gap in the phalanx where one soldier had been brought down by an arrow, leaving the comrade on his left unprotected. Kalliades screamed wordlessly as he ran at the man, hacking at his sword arm. The blow half severed the arm above the elbow. Kalliades ripped his sword up again, catching the Mykene in the face as he fell forward.
A Mykene warrior swung his sword at Kalliades' head. It glanced off the edge of his s.h.i.+eld. Kalliades lanced the sword of Argurios at the man's throat, but it deflected off his heavy armor. Kneeling, he parried a blow from the man's sword, then hacked at his thigh. A bright fountain of blood gouted out. Falling to his knees, the Mykene desperately swung at Kalliades again. Kalliades stepped lightly back, leaving the man to die.
For a moment he was clear of the action. He saw that Banokles had fought his way into the thick of the battle. He was surrounded on three sides by the enemy, both Mykene and Thessalians.
Kalliades started in that direction, but from the corner of his eye he saw movement to his right. He blocked a savage thrust, slas.h.i.+ng his sword across the man's neck in a deadly riposte. Glancing left, he raised his s.h.i.+eld just in time to block a blow from an ax. He lost his footing in the mud, and the axman swung at him again. He rolled away desperately.
Then a Trojan soldier leaped at the axman, slas.h.i.+ng at his arm but catching him with a glancing blow on his mailed shoulder. The axman turned to the young soldier and swung the ax at his head. The Trojan carried an old tower s.h.i.+eld, and the ax deflected off its edge. As the axman raised his weapon again, Kalliades leaped up and thrust his sword between the man's back ribs. He wrenched it out as the man fell heavily.
Kalliades nodded his thanks to the youngster with the tower s.h.i.+eld and turned back to see where Banokles was. He could not see him. Kalliades glanced around. Even in the middle of a battle Kalliades could feel the way it was going, and he knew the Trojans were making ground.
He swept aside a sword thrust to his belly from the right and killed the man with a lightning riposte to the throat.
A gap had opened up in front of him, and again he spotted Banokles, fighting with controlled intensity, his two swords flas.h.i.+ng and darting, keeping the surrounding enemy at bay. Kalliades ran toward him, hurdled a body, and slashed his sword across the raised arm of a Thessalian soldier. The man stood for a moment, staring at his ruined arm. Kalliades lanced his sword into the Thessalian's throat.
He saw that Banokles had lost one sword, so he picked up the Thessalian's sword and yelled, ”Banokles!” But in his full-faced helm Banokles did not hear him.
Kalliades saw a Mykene kill his Trojan opponent, then turn to see Banokles' exposed back. Grinning, he raised his sword for a killing blow. Kalliades ran forward. But before the blow could fall, Banokles reversed his sword and thrust it, without looking, into the man's belly.
Kalliades hacked his sword into the neck of one of Banokles' opponents. He saw Banokles notice him and threw him the new sword. There was a pause while he looked around for his next target.
Banokles shouted, ”Don't worry, there are enough for both of us!”
Then the two friends were fighting back to back, the pile of enemy corpses around them growing.
And the long morning wore on.