The Girl From Ithaca (22 page)

He swung round, his fists clenched. “What?”

“I want to make sure I’m thinking of the right one. If I sent you to the Cretan or the Spartan smith by mistake, you’d be… very angry.”

Agamemnon glared at me, a dangerous glint in his eye. Then he swung round and headed towards Nicodamas’ tent. There was nothing more I could do. I walked along the beach, glancing round every few steps to look for Ellissa. Once in the Argos camp, I sat on a broken chariot wheel and waited. Eventually I spotted her hurrying round the tents and I waved to attract her attention. She came trotting towards me, gasping for breath and holding her side. She flopped down on the wheel.

“Is Io safe?” I asked.

Ellissa nodded, gulping in the air. “Just made it. When Agamemnon stormed in, it looked like Nicodamas was teaching her about the bellows. He actually believed it. He thought it was a good idea. ”

I patted Ellissa on the back. “You did well. Catch your breath now, before we go on to Machaon.”

I’d often seen the healer round the camp, either leading the Thessalians into a battle or treating the wounded and dying, but I’d not spoken to him since trying to help Philoctetes the archer. He was inside his large tent, bent over a table cluttered with pots, jars and mixing bowls. Quickly looking round, I saw a long piece of twine stretched along the top of the tent, with bunches of plants and herbs tied up and hanging from it. The bed in the corner seemed to be an afterthought.

Machaon straightened up. “Come in, please. It’s crowded in here, but you’re not as big as Ajax, so I think we’ll fit in.” He rubbed his hand through his sandy coloured hair. “Now, Agamemnon tells me you’re to learn the uses of my remedies and help care for the wounded. Is that right?”

We both nodded.

“I can certainly do with some assistance.” He held up an earthenware bowl. “If a wound goes bad, this ointment made from parsley may help clean it. It’s best to have a good supply before a battle.”

“Parsley? I use it in cooking,” Ellissa said.

Machaon chuckled. “You’ll find I use the same herbs as you do, though I add a few extra ingedients that would ruin your fine reputation as a cook.”

I studied him as he compared his knowledge of herbs with Ellissa. He was a tall man, perhaps strong in a wiry sort of way. The dark shadows under his eyes and the slight tic on the left side of his face belied his cheerful manner. While they were talking, my eyes settled on a collection of different sized saws, hanging on a shelf behind him.

“Ah yes, these are my favourites,” he smiled, reaching over to pluck the smallest from its hook. “You can probably guess this is for fingers or toes.” Machaon touched the blade very lightly. “I need to take care of this little beauty. If the blade is sharp, it does its work well.” He licked the blood he’d drawn from his finger. “Of course, the shock of the sawing can kill a man and there’s likely to be badness in the wound, but it gives him a chance.”

Ellissa and I stared at the ground.

“I won’t be asking you to saw a man’s leg off or extract an embedded spear. You’re not strong enough,” he laughed.

Ellissa seemed to be struggling for breath.

Machaon glanced at the saw and put it back on the shelf. “I work mainly on the battlefield, removing arrow heads, stemming the wounds. I need you here, ready to tend the injured after I’ve sent them back to camp.”

“But how will we know what to do?” I asked, forcing my eyes away from the saws.

“You won’t be doing the difficult work. I’ll show you simple remedies you can apply to most injuries. Nothing complicated, but it’ll impress the men.” He leaned forward, as though to share a secret. “The first and most important thing to learn about healing is that you don’t need to know much, or even have much success, but you must look as if you do. It’s all about reputation.” The healer dipped under the rope and moved over to the table cluttered with knives, mixing bowls and small jars. He turned to grin at us. “In one way, it’s all very easy. Save a man, and he’s in your debt forever. If the man dies, he’ll not be around to complain.”

I smiled weakly and glanced at Ellissa. She was smiling too, but there was a look of alarm in her eyes as she followed him to the table.

“Now, this is where I mix my potions,” Machaon explained, waving his hand over the jars. “Don’t worry, Ellissa. You’ll only need to know four or five of them. The men won’t expect you to be as skilled as that water nymph from Mount Ida!”

“Oenone? The nymph Paris loved before Helen, when he was still a shepherd?” I said, clinging to something I knew.

Machaon picked up a pot of honey and turned it over in his hand. “I don’t take a lot of interest in that sort of thing, but I think that’s her name, yes.” He handed the pot to Ellissa. “I’m sure you use honey in your cooking, but it’s also useful to dress wounds. It fights the badness that often grows there.”

Ellissa smiled a more genuine smile and I began to relax.

“Now, this is an ointment I’ve made from one part honey and two parts sheep fat,” the healer explained, showing us a larger pot. “Apply that to stop the badness spreading to the the rest of the body. Good to make up as a drink too, eases a cough.” He smiled when I recognised the familiar smell. “Of course, I forgot, you Ithacans know about sheep fat! I expect there’s always a lot in Ithaca, but sometimes we run out here in camp. In that case, use olive oil. Patroclus gives me a small amount from Achilles’ raids, before Agamemnon gets the rest, but it’s not a big supply. So, if you can, use the sheep fat.” He reached over the assortment of jars and took a tall clay jar from the back of the table. “However, when we‘re very busy, we may run short of both. What then?”

We stared at the tall jar. Machaon pulled out the stopper and tipped something into my hand.

“Dried moss?” Ellissa said.

“Yes, easy to find, so it’s an excellent reserve. I collect it from the coppice just outside the boundary. Place it against the wound and then apply the bandage.” He took Ellissa’s arm and spread the moss over an imagined injury. “That’s all. Nothing to it. Not quite as effective as my honey ointment, but better than nothing.”

I began to feel more confident, in the healer and myself. Despite his strange manner, Machaon explained his remedies precisely and simply and was teaching us a lot.

“Now, this is a bitter plant called woundwort and I make it into a paste,” he said, showing us a root and cutting it into small pieces. “Remember I used it on the archer who was bitten by the snake? Not that it helped in that particular case. But it’s my strongest treatment against a poisoned wound. So, if one of the leaders is wounded, or if the honey ointment doesn’t work for an ordinary soldier, this is the one to use.” He waved a pot of woundwort paste under Ellisa’s nose. “You can tell you’ve got the right one by the smell.”

Ellissa’s eyes watered and then she sneezed.

Machaon laughed. “Well, I think you can recognize woundwort now.”

And so he continued, reminding me about the poppy seeds we’d given to Philoctetes. He shook a handful of black seeds into a bowl and watched as we each had a turn grinding them into a fine powder.

“Mix this powder with wine,” he explained, “it’ll relieve pain and help a man sleep. Usually very effective, so don’t be put off by the archer’s case.”

Eventually, just as I thought my head would burst, Machaon clapped his hands and walked to the entrance. “That’s enough for today. If you need to know more, I’ll show you another time. Carry on with your chores round camp tomorrow and when I need you, I’ll send Phoebus.”

As we left his tent, he called after us, “If all else fails, pray to the god Apollo. He’s the god of healing and the one to call to when you need help.”

I pulled my cloak around me and whispered to Ellissa. “Think I’ll try a god more favourable to the Greeks.”

The wind had swung round and a cool breeze blew inland across the beach. A small cluster of men remained near the dying fires, but the drinking and singing was over for the night and most had wandered back to their tents.

“Wonder if Io and Hesta have extra duties?” I said.

“Io could help Nicodamas,” Ellisa chuckled. “With those bellows.”

We arrived at our hut to find Odysseus at the table, binding a spear head onto the carefully shaped niche on the shaft.

“Agamemnon seen you?” he asked, looking up.

I sat on my bed. “He said you’d agreed to us helping Machaon. So we’ve had instructions.”

Odysseus set his spear down and studied me. “Agamemnon forced me into it. He thinks you’re a nuisance around camp and leading others into trouble. He wants to keep you busy.”

“Me? It was Hesta who suggested watching the Amazons and then Io who insisted on going.”

My brother shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe, but Agamemnon’s not interested in that. You’ll get the blame every time your little group steps out of line. I advise you to keep well away from him.”

I blushed as I thought of my recent encounter.

Ellissa leapt in to help me. “Oh, we’ll keep out of his way, Odysseus. We don’t like being anywhere near the man,” she said, shaking her head and frowning, “but we learnt a lot about Machaon’s work tonight and we’re hoping we can remember it for tomorrow.”

My brother picked up his spear again. “You’ll be excellent and the men will love you both.” He studied the tip closely and then added, “What did you think of Machaon?”

Ellissa open her mouth, hesitated and then said nothing.

So it was up to me. I untied my hair and let in fall over my shoulders. “He knows a lot about herbs and honey and that sort of thing.” Odysseus looked up expectantly. “And he gave us good instructions. I think we know what to do.” An image of his collection of saws swam before me. “But he’s a bit strange.”

Odysseus grinned. “Most healers are. Perhaps it’s the work they do.”

Chapter NINETEEN

The Long March Back

I
woke to the sound of the Ithacan army assembling in front of our hut. Ellissa was peering out over the beach.

“Odysseus is ready, with Medon and his palace guards behind him,” she said. Then she leaned forward to get a better view. “Seems like the whole Greek army is prepared and Calchas is about to make an offering to Apollo.”

“I don’t know why he keeps making offerings to a god who prefers the Trojans,” I muttered, dressing quickly.

“It’s probably because he’s a Trojan.”

I stabbed my finger with the pin of my brooch. “Calchas is a Trojan? Ellissa, are you sure?”

Ellissa looked round at me in surprise. “But I thought you realised. He was one of King Priam’s prophets and Priam sent him to Apollo’s oracle at Delphi. When the oracle revealed that the Greeks would conquer Troy, he decided to stay with the Greeks. We heard all about him in Arisbe.”

“I knew there was something wrong with him. He could be a spy.”

Ellissa came inside and handed me some bread. “I can’t see him as a spy. At least not the type who goes creeping about at night.”

Ellissa had a point. Calchas liked a comfortable life with lots of food and wine. The thought of him attempting to cross the plain, fighting off the wild dogs and braving the marshes in the middle of the night, did seem unlikely. So maybe he just wanted to be on the winning side?

We jumped as the three sharp trumpet blasts signalled the march from camp. We heard the familiar thud of feet and the clink of metal. I rushed to the door and saw the Ithacans fall in behind the Spartans. In the distance, Nestor rode at the head of the large Pylian army, his two sons in chariots either side of him and the blue standard fluttering in the breeze. I whispered a prayer as I touched my brooch, hoping to double the protection they gave.

The only men left in camp were the stable boys clearing out pens and tending the animals, the soldiers too badly wounded to fight and blacksmiths preparing more weapons. There was also Calchas, but I wasn’t sure he really counted. Taking my chance while few men were about, I ran to the bathing pool, slipped off my clothes and plunged into the deep, icy cold water. It was a relief to feel the dirt wash away. At home I’d bathed most days, the servants always there to fill the tubs with warm water and hand me oils and drying cloths. Now I had to do the best I could, though it was still a lot better than most of the soldiers. When I came up for air, I saw Io waving at me from the bank.

“Agamemnon told me about the extra duties he’s given you. You’ll never guess mine,” she called.

I swam to the bank. “The bellows?”

She beamed. “He actually believed Nicodamas was teaching me about metal working! Good thing he doesn’t understand women. Though he nearly caught us, Ellissa didn’t give us much warning.”

“You were lucky to get that, poor Ellissa was worn out after all the running and I delayed him as much as possible. Make sure the next man is a story-teller or a shepherd, at least I’ve got something to say on those subjects.”

“Who says there’ll be another man?” she grinned. “And I almost forgot! Guess what Hesta has to do? She’s helping Calchas prepare his offerings. Apparently, all the wine pouring is too much for our dear Calchas to do alone.”