The Girl From Ithaca (13 page)

I was to go to Medon if I wanted anything. When I peered into his shelter, set next to ours, it wasn’t a surprise to find it empty. Medon would be busy checking every man was fed and equipped for the invasion. The thickly bearded captain of the palace guards never left anything to chance.

Looking further, I saw groups of Ithacans sitting around small fires, some roasting chunks of meat over the flames and others eating and drinking. I recognised several in the nearest group and I wanted to sit amongst them, to be with them and not alone. But the idea would have shocked the men, as much as it would have horrified my mother.

I retreated into my tent and lay on the hard pallet bed, staring at Odysseus’ armour.

Chapter TEN

Battle on the Beach

A
gamemnon stood before the large Greek army, looking exactly as a warrior king should look: proud, confident and powerful. He smiled as he raised his arms to silence the cheering men. Then he spoke to them in his loud, commanding voice that echoed around the camp.

“You shall win both glory and gold this day, my friends. The Trojans will be waiting for us as we land, but remember, we outnumber them three to one and one Greek is worth ten Trojans!”

Ajax waved his huge ox-hide shield in the air. “No Trojan will break through this shield!” he cried.

I left the leaders as they shouted their encouragement and did exactly as Odysseus had instructed: I looked for a place on the supply ships. These deep berthed ships were packed with tools, hides, animals and women and would only approach the Trojan shore once a foothold was won. A pilot called out to me and I was about to climb on his ship, when I saw Io waving her arms, trying to attract my attention in the next ship along. Quickly, I ran along the gang plank and scrambled over the barrels and baskets of food, to reach Io sitting on sacks of animal fodder.

“Not much room, but it’s comfortable,” Io said, trying to make space for me. “We’ve got a lot of horses on board, but I thought they’d be better than the mules.”

I squashed in beside her. “Probably, except we’ve got our own special mule.”

Io frowned and glanced round to see where I pointed. She groaned when she saw Calchas climbing the steps to the pilot’s platform. “He must have crept on after me. Now I wish I’d chosen the latrine digging tools for company.”

Our crew was a mix of herdsmen, metal-workers and other strong men whose lives had been spent on land, not sea. Despite their muscular arms, they couldn’t match the speed of the more experienced oarsmen in the sleek war ships. As we made our way across the strait, the pilot counted out time and encouraged the men to sing as they rowed, but the horses were a heavy and unstable load and our ship was soon at the back of the fleet.

“I heard Agamemnon and Palamedes discuss the other leaders,” Io whispered.

“I don’t expect my brother is very popular.”

Io reddened. “But he’s not the only one they’re suspicious of. You know Ajax?”

“Yes, the strong one.”

“He’s cousin to Achilles. And he’s got a half-brother with him, Prince Teucer, as his second in command.”

She paused briefly to see my reaction, but when I shrugged, not understanding why this should be so important, she whispered, “Teucer’s mother was a Trojan princess and sister to King Priam. So he’s half-Trojan and cousin to Prince Paris!”

“You mean Ajax’s father was married to a Trojan princess? I hadn’t realised his kingdom was important enough to make that sort of arrangement.”

Io leaned closer. “No, she never married him. Priam’s sister was taken as a war-prize in the last Trojan War, when Hercules invaded. She’s been kept as a concubine. Agamemnon’s told Palamedes to spy on PrinceTeucer, in case he tries to contact his Trojan family and betray us.”

Sweat poured down the backs of the oarsmen, but we were still falling further behind the other ships. The pilot gave up counting time and called to one of the stable boys. “You lad, come up here and bring one of those shields stacked up behind you.”

The stable boy grabbed a large bronze shield and staggered up the steps onto the pilot’s platform. Squeezing past Calchas, he slipped in beside the pilot. After a few whispered instructions, the boy pounded on the shield, the regular metallic boom becoming a guide to the oarsmen.

“I prefer young Theo’s pipe music, but it’s working,” Io grinned, as the men began pulling together and we edged forward, slowly closing the gap on the other ships.

Eventually we drew alongside a supply ship crammed with ox-hides and ropes. Their pilot looked across to us and shouted at his oarsmen. They responded by increasing the stroke and their ship crept ahead.

“If that dog-faced Athenian wants a race, we’ll give it him,” yelled our pilot. “Oarsman, you row as if Hades is after us. Ready, stable boy!”

The stable boy grinned and quickened the beat on his makeshift drum. Immediately the men rowed harder and we chased after the Athenian. We played this game of cat and mouse, first one ship in the lead and then the other, until the shape of the coastline emerged from the haze.

At the blast of a trumpet, our pilot raised his arm and the drumming stopped, the rowers lifted their oars from the sea and slumped forward, gasping for breath. The ship started to drift with the current.

“What’s happening?” Io whispered.

“It was the signal. For supply ships to wait and the war ships to … to attack,” I said, my voice suddenly hoarse.

Io and I stared at the black ships as they grouped together and then swooped down on the Trojan beach like sinister birds of prey.

We both flinched at the sound of Calchas’ voice. “It was revealed to me last night,” he cried. “It was revealed to me last night that the first man to leap from the ships will be the first man to die.”

A picture of a lone soldier flickered in my mind. The Trojans would surround him and hack him to death, but he’d be the first of many. The first snowflake in a storm. Ten thousand men would follow him onto Trojan soil.

While Calchas continued with his announcements, the first ships landed and the leading warriors cleared the waves and ran onto the shore, their oarsmen grabbing their weapons and scrambling after them. Then our view was blocked by the dark mass of ships following the first surge of attack. Unable to see what was happening, it was the crash of metal that told us the battle had begun. Oarsmen whispered prayers. Several of the women sobbed.

The horses seemed to sense our fear and grew restless. Stable boys walked amongst them, reassuring them with their familiar, soothing voices, calling some by name. Most settled again, but when a stallion yanked his head back, snapped the tethering rope and kicked out against the wooden stall that held him, more horses stamped and pushed into each other. The ship rocked, listed to one side and took on water.

Io and I toppled from the meal sacks and rolled across the deck. Slamming into something hard, my eyes blurred. Shaking my head, I saw a beard and then a man’s face. It took me awhile to realise I’d collided with the rowers’ bench.

“We’re sinking, I think we’re sinking!” Io cried.

“Not yet, but we’ve got to calm the horses,” I said, looking round to see women and oarsmen rushing to grab the halters of frightened horses.

We clambered over the upturned baskets and meal bags to the nearest animals. I found a chestnut mare squealing in fright, showing the whites of her eyes and lathered in sweat. Pulling her head down, I leant hard against her shoulder. The mare snorted in quick, desperate breaths, her body quivering. I talked to her gently and stroked her neck. Gradually her breathing slowed. A few horses were still agitated, but now it was quieter and the deck levelled again. I rubbed my mare’s nose and her ears pricked forward. I smiled. I’d found her favourite spot and knew I was in control.

When I dared look round, I saw Io and a Spartan slave girl holding horses nearby. Oarsmen were returning to their benches, while a few men scooped out water in measured movements, the danger of capsizing over.

A round-faced stable boy brought me a brush and a cloth to wipe down the mare. The repetitive brushing soothed her and when she began chomping on a scoop of barley, I passed on to the more skittish horses. Slowly they quietened, though the stable boys stayed close, chatting and humming songs, grooming some and giving an extra scoop of meal to others.

The second deep blast from a herald’s trumpet brought me back to the battle and I joined Io and the Spartan girl by the side of the ship.

The Spartan girl clutched my cloak. “Can you see Lord Menelaus? I’m here to make sure Lady Helen’s looked after on her way home, but if Lord Menelaus is killed, who’ll rescue her?”

Scanning the coast for the red standard of Ithaca, I searched for Menelaus too. Instead, I saw Big Ajax near the ships, his tower of a shield pushing back a group of Trojans, like a bear swatting away hunting dogs. My stomach lurched when I glimpsed Odysseus’ red plume, but it merged into the blur of shields and armour and I lost him again.

“There’s Achilles! Look at Achilles!” Io cried.

The golden plume of Achilles was at the forefront of the attack. We watched the glint of his sword, as it swept back and forth, like a reaper’s scythe harvesting corn. His Myrmidon soldiers surged after him, into the fatal wound at the heart of the Trojan army. The defence collapsed. Only a white-plumed Trojan stood his ground, attempting to regroup his men amid the chaos. Many turned and ran, so that the warrior was left with a cluster of the bravest soldiers; a small island of defiance soon to be engulfed by the tidal wave that was Achilles. I fought back the nausea as we waited for the terrible crash of shields and the destruction of this last piece of Trojan resistance.

It was the bray of a horn, of a higher-pitch than Agamemnon’s signal, and definitely Trojan. The illusion of the island stretched out and then disintegrated. I relaxed my grip as the last of the Trojans withdrew and the white-plumed warrior swept his chariot round and raced from the beach. Closing my eyes, I wondered if it was treachery to admire the courage of enemy soldiers and wish for their escape.

“You can look now, our men have won.” The voice sounded so friendly, it was out of place in all the confusion and violence. An oarsman was looking down at me, smiling. I felt like crying as he handed me his water skin. “Reckon you need a drink after all that.”

I nodded and gulped down the water.

“Reckon even Lord Odysseus’ sister gets thirsty sometimes,” he said. He rubbed his shoulders. “This rowing and almost drowning got some of us beat. Reckon there’s a few who’ll be glad to get on dry land, even if it’s Trojan dry land.”

When we heard more blasts from the Greek trumpet, I turned to the battle again and saw the Greeks abandoning their pursuit of the fleeing Trojans and regrouping on the beach. The tight knot in my stomach eased a little when I saw the red standard, with the red plume of Odysseus very close by.

“Looks like Odysseus is safe,” I whispered to the Spartan girl. “Have you seen Menelaus?”

She nodded. “He’s next to King Agamemnon. I think he’ll rescue Lady Helen tomorrow.”

Agamemnon had raised his arms and was shouting, but the cheering of his troops drowned all he said. The cheers turned into chanting, the chanting of a name over and over again, like a swarm of angry bees.

“Achilles, Achilles, Achilles!”

Io touched my arm. “Are you all right? I thought you were going to faint on me then! Come on, we’ve seen our first battle and we’re still alive. Let’s concentrate on getting to shore now.”

The pilot swept his arm down, yelled his command and the stable boy pounded his drum. The ship surged forward as we followed the other supply ships, edging in front of the Athenian’s ship as the prow slid against the sand. We shuffled forward in silence, waiting our turn to jump ashore. Ahead of us, women climbed out into the shallow water and waded onto Trojan land. I watched them wandering about, out of place and confused, while soldiers stripped the Trojan dead of armour and wounded men screamed for help.

The Spartan girl jumped first and then Io pulled me to the front of the ship and we leapt together, the splash of water dappled by colours from the sun. The warmth of the sea caressed our legs. The sand was firm beneath our feet. Then the sickly stench of blood overwhelmed us.