Part 34 (1/2)
Odysseus levered himself to his feet and walked across to the arena. Red-bearded Thibo was standing by Hektor's body.
”You will return Hektor to his city?” Odysseus asked.
”I will, King,” the warrior said. ”Had he lived, great Achilles would have treated his fallen foe with honor. Then I will take my Myrmidons, and we will sail home. Our king will go to the pyre, but not in this accursed place.”
Odysseus nodded. He suddenly realized that the men around him had fallen silent, and the only sound was the rain drumming on metal armor. He looked up and saw Andromache. She was walking toward them alone through the rain, dressed in a robe of scarlet flame, her face stern, her head high.
She came up to him. She was ashen-faced and her hair was plastered to her head and shoulders, yet he thought her then the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Helikaon was right, he thought. Truly you are a G.o.ddess.
She looked down on Hektor's body, and when she looked up at him again, her eyes were br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears. ”Well, Tale Spinner, are you happy with this day's work?”
”Two of my friends are dead. What would you have me say, la.s.s?”
”That this will all end now, and you will return to your s.h.i.+ps and go home.”
”I will return to my s.h.i.+ps and go home.”
She arched her eyebrows, unbelieving. ”Truly?”
He told her, ”Ithaka is leaving this place. I do not believe the priest chose to poison the blade which killed Achilles.” He glanced inquiringly at Thibo, who nodded his head.
”I suspect Agamemnon's hand behind this,” Thibo agreed. ”It was an evil act.”
Odysseus told Andromache, ”This is Thibo of the Myrmidons. He will see that Hektor's body is returned to the city with honor. Then he will take Achilles' army and go home to Thessaly. And I will be back with Penelope and my new son come the Feast of Demeter.”
He saw hope in Andromache's gray eyes and was quick to quash it.
”We once made a pact, you and I, to tell each other only the truth,” he said. She nodded, remembering the Bay of Blue Owls where they first had met. ”Agamemnon will not return home with his armies and fleets. Troy will fall, Andromache. The rain will not save you. In truth, it means only that everyone in the city will be slaughtered before they die of thirst.”
She caught her breath at his harsh words.
”Troy cannot be saved.” He glanced at the listening soldiers and looked into her eyes. ”But if you wish to save your son,” he told her, ”look to the north.”
He turned away and left her standing grief-stricken in the rain.
Agamemnon was furious. He strode down the road to his palace, flanked by his Mykene guard and the last two Followers. Can no one follow a simple plan? he thought. The priest was supposed to smear poison on the blade unnoticed as everyone watched the battle, then drop the phial into the hot coals. Instead, greed had made him keep it, and greed had been his undoing. And as for that interfering oaf Odysseus, it was well past time to do something about him. His nuisance value now outweighed his usefulness.
Agamemnon swept into the megaron, megaron, where the kings already were gathering, quaffing goblets of wine cheerfully. When they saw him, their demeanor changed to watchfulness. He knew they found him hard to predict, and that pleased him. where the kings already were gathering, quaffing goblets of wine cheerfully. When they saw him, their demeanor changed to watchfulness. He knew they found him hard to predict, and that pleased him.
He looked around, then sighed and shook his head. ”Our great Achilles is dead,” he said sorrowfully. ”Our champion felled by treachery.”
Kygones of Lykia was watching him narrowly. ”Yes, a tragedy for us all,” he commented drily.
”I heard the Myrmidons say they will leave now and take his body home,” Menelaus slurred. He had been swigging unwatered wine for much of the day.
”We do not need the Myrmidons. All the more plunder for the rest of us,” Idomeneos said with relish.
The doors opened, and Odysseus came in, followed by old Nestor. The Ithakan king stomped up to Agamemnon, his face red with anger.
”Convince me, King,” Odysseus stormed, ”that you did not command the poxy priest to poison Hektor's sword!”
Agamemnon replied smoothly, ”This is madness, Odysseus. Why would I poison our own champion?”
”Because, by the great G.o.d Zeus, one death was never enough for you. You wanted them both dead! And if Achilles' blade was poisoned and he lived to find out, then he would have killed you himself, as I am minded to do myself for today's foul deeds.”
Agamemnon leaped back and drew his sword, and his Followers moved to his side, blades at the ready. The Battle King was well prepared to fight. To see the meddlesome Odysseus lying on the floor with his lifeblood pumping out was something he long had hoped for. Around them the other kings had their hands to their sword hilts, yet, Agamemnon realized with shock, at least two of them, old Nestor and Menestheos of Athens, were glaring at him. him.
He took a deep breath, sheathed his sword, and said placatingly, ”You are misled by your grief, Odysseus. This is a day of tragedy for all of us. Our champion Achilles is walking the Dark Road. We will never see his like again.” The words of the dying priest in the Cave of Wings came back to him. ”The Age of Heroes is pa.s.sing,” he added.
”By all the b.a.s.t.a.r.d G.o.ds, I am sick of it all,” Odysseus told him. ”I will take my army and return to the bay tonight. At dawn we sail for Ithaka.”
Agamemnon felt a flood of relief and pleasure. The fat fool is leaving at last, he thought. The G.o.ds must truly love the Mykene.
Instead he said coldly, ”So your pledge to me is worthless, Ithaka.”
”It was not the pledge that was worthless but the recipient,” Odysseus replied scornfully.
Nestor stepped in before Agamemnon could react. ”My army will leave Troy, too. I am an old man, and I wish to see no more killing, no more death,” he said. ”I will start for Pylos come daybreak.”
Agamemnon turned on him. ”Your betrayal will not be forgotten, old man,” he spit. ”You remain king only on my suffrance. When the troops of Mykene return home in triumph, be prepared to defend your flax fields and sandy beaches.”
Nestor flushed and countered angrily, ”Do not seek to threaten me, Agamemnon. My sons are dead because of the dread Helikaon, but I have strong grandsons aplenty. If your troops march on our borders, they will be waiting for you there with sharp swords.
”If you ever return to the Lion's Hall,” he added. ”There are a myriad of leaves on the tree and a myriad of ways to die,” he quoted. you ever return to the Lion's Hall,” he added. ”There are a myriad of leaves on the tree and a myriad of ways to die,” he quoted.
”You pious old fool,” Idomeneos snapped. ”Even the G.o.ds are tired of your pompous advice and your tedious tales about when you were a young warrior. We will be better off without you.”
There was violence in the air. Odysseus glanced at his old friend Meriones. He was the only man in the megaron megaron who had not drawn his sword. The Ithakan king guessed that his friend felt the way he did, but Meriones' loyalty to Idomeneos was legendary. who had not drawn his sword. The Ithakan king guessed that his friend felt the way he did, but Meriones' loyalty to Idomeneos was legendary.
Then Agamemnon sheathed his blade and sat down on a carved chair. He sipped a little water and smoothly changed the subject.
”The Trojans will be celebrating tonight,” he commented, as if the angry exchanges had not happened. ”They will have water enough now to last into the autumn. We cannot wait while they die of thirst, so it is time to implement Odysseus' plan to take the city.” He gestured to the Ugly King. ”Remain with us, Ithaka, and by tomorrow night our soldiers could be inside the walls of Troy. You have stayed the course this far. Do not go now, on the eve of our triumph.” The words were bitter in his mouth, but the tension in the room eased and men sheathed their swords, picking up their wine cups again.
”We will sail at dawn,” Odysseus said tiredly.
”Good riddance. More plunder for the rest of us,” Idomeneos repeated.
Odysseus turned on him. ”That reminds me, Sharptooth. You still owe me your breastplate, won by the warrior Banokles in a fistfight. I will collect it from you before I leave.”
Idomeneos scowled. Smiling, Odysseus walked from the company of the kings for the last time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.
THE TROJAN HORSE.
The horse was swimming. Skorpios knew the beasts could swim. Indeed, he had seen many swimming for their lives in the h.e.l.lespont after the battle of Carpea. But he had never sat astride a swimming horse. It was very peaceful. The sea was blue, although above them the sky was as black as pitch, and the moon hung on the horizon like a hole in the heavens. It was bigger than Skorpios had ever seen it, and his mount was floating toward it along a path of silver moonlight.