The Girl From Ithaca (25 page)

“I stayed in Mycenae with father for a few days, as a guest of Agamemnon,” Thrasymedes said. “Our palace is the same design as theirs, but it feels much lighter and warmer. Even our frescoes along the walls are brighter. It’s hard to say why exactly, but it’s as if Agamemnon puts his oppressive stamp on everything he touches.”

I understood what he meant about Agamemnon. I was describing my visit to Mycenae, when the door crashed open and Nestor rushed in, bringing a gust of cold air with him. Antilochus took the wet cloak, shook it and placed it near the fire. The old man beamed at us and held up a leather bag.

“It’s good to see you here, Neomene. I hope my boys have treated you well. I was on my way to discuss a few things with Menelaus and as fortune would have it, Agamemnon, Odysseus and Achilles were there. We discussed ways of encouraging the men through this awful weather.”

Thrasymedes grinned at his brother, but Antilochus managed to keep a straight face as Nestor pulled a gold platter from his bag and passed it to him.

“Agamemnon has distributed some of Achilles’ loot. Look at the pattern round the edge, Antilochus. Rather fine, don’t you think? In return for the treasure, he wants each leader to go around their camp this afternoon and improve morale. Talk to the men, Agamemnon says, and slap them on the back.” Nestor shook his head. “That may be his style, but you know it’s not mine. The men would suspect something was seriously wrong if I walked up and started thumping them.”

He slapped Thrasymedes on his shoulder in a weak imitation of Agamemnon trying to be friendly, and we laughed at the awkwardness of it.

Antilochus smiled. “Yes, I think it’s best if you avoid that, Father. So what’s your method going to be?”

“An easy one, my son. I’m sending you boys out there, while I sleep off the goblet of wine I sampled. Tell the men I’ll get some women from Thrace to amuse them once this bad weather is over. And Thrasymedes, you can check they’ve got enough food and make sure the animals are fed. Antilochus, I want you to watch out for arguments or rivalries amongst the men. Cooped up like this, the slightest disagreement can escalate.”

“We know,” Thrasymedes said, glancing at his brother.

Antilochus handed him the gold platter. “Seems we’ll be working hard for this.”

Nestor sat down by the fire and held his hands to the flames. “I suggest you use your particular strengths. Antilochus should concentrate on sorting out any ill-feeling, perhaps moving one or two men into different tents if you think it necessary. Thrasymedes, you might try cheering them up with a tale or two. But do what seems most suitable for each tent. I believe Odysseus was telling a few stories earlier, but now he’s playing a game of dice.”

Nestor rested his feet on a stool Antilochus had made for him. By the time we’d each found our cloaks and then turned round to say goodbye, the old king’s eyes were closed and he’d a contented smile on his face.

“We’ll escort you back to the Ithacan camp, Neomene. I don’t think Father will be doing much entertaining for a while,” Antilochus said.

Ellissa was warming herself by the brazier when I struggled into our hut. She looked up and beckoned me over. “Sit by the fire and get dry, you look frozen. Odysseus came back, but now he’s out in the camp again.”

“Playing dice?” I asked.

She chuckled. “Oh, he told me not to tell you that.”

“Put a few more sticks in the fire, Ellissa, I’m going to see what he’s up to.”

I gasped for breath as the wind pushed against me, trying to send me in a direction I didn’t want to go. Sheltering behind a cluster of tents, I listened for my brother’s voice. At first the rain and the crash of the waves was all I could hear; then a familiar laugh from one of the larger tents.

“Odysseus, you in there? Can I have a word?”

My voice sounded faint against the wind and the sea, but I knew they’d heard me because all went quiet inside. Then fingers untied the flap on the tent and the top half of Odysseus appeared, looking comical as he stared up at me.

“You’re playing dice,” I said.

Odysseus smirked. “It’s a good game, though I’m not doing so well. I’ve already lost some of Agamemnon’s gold.”

Odysseus retreated inside for a moment. I heard men’s voices and the murmurings of a discussion. Then he returned to open more of the flap. “They say come in and join them for a game.”

I found seven men squashed into the tent with their woollen blankets rolled up and pushed to one corner. Agenor our stable boy was there, sitting crossed leg and wrapped in cloaks much too large for him, his fair hair sticking up in tufts. He smiled at me as I squeezed into a space between Odysseus and a carpenter called Epeius. Epeius handed me the dice.

“Doubles are the highest and double six wins. See if you’re luckier than your brother,” he grinned.

I glanced at my brother, who nodded. So I rattled the dice in my loosely clenched hand and tossed them onto the ground in the centre of the group. They spun round and finally clattered to a halt in front of Agenor. Double sixes. The men chuckled.

“Lord Odysseus, you’ve been beaten by your sister!” the stable boy grinned. He leant forward and scooped up the dice, throwing them into the air. The men scrambled to move their feet as the dice bounced along the ground and then rolled in separate circles, before coming to rest on a six and a six.

“Ah,” said Odysseus, “the luck of the young. Let’s see if my fortune has improved.”

I noticed he flicked his wrists when he held the dice. That had to be way he changed the loading. His dice came down a three and a four.

“Not bad, an improvement,” said Epeius, trying to appear sympathetic. He threw the dice and then shrugged good-temperedly as they rolled around the floor and settled on the two and three.

The dice went round the group. The nearest score to double six was a five and a four by a leather worker called Lucus.

“The boy wins!” declared Odysseus, pulling a silver box from under his cloak. “Your prize, Agenor. It’ll make a fine present for a pretty girl when you get home from this war.”

He handed the prize to the surprised stable boy.

“And if you prefer, I’ll keep it safe until we return to Ithaca. I wouldn’t want it to fall into thieving hands,” Odysseus suggested.

Agenor turned the box over very carefully, as though it was a sacred object used by a priest, and then handed it back to Odysseus. “Yes, you take care of it for me.”

When we crawled from the tent, Epeius called after us, “Maybe we can organise a boxing competition. I’d like to see how I measure up to those big-headed Mycenaeans and Myrmidons.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Odysseus said and when we’d fought our way through the wind to our own hut, he whispered to me, “Funny thing about Epeius. He’s our champion boxer and knows no fear in a boxing match, yet we need to place him in the middle of the troops to stop him running from a battle.”

We slammed the door behind us and hurried to the fire. Dragging the wet cloak from my shoulders, I turned to see Io covered in Ellissa’s blankets and holding her hands over the flames. “Io, you’ve escaped!”

“I saw my chance when Agamemnon went out into the camp and Calchas was asleep. It’s been terrible. Ceto and I try to hide in the corners because if we go near the fire, Agamemnon or Calchas are there. So we’re both chilled to the bone. Poor Ceto is thinner than ever.”

Ellissa handed her a plate of the special honey cakes. “These may cheer you up a little. I’ll wrap some for Ceto.”

“Thank you, thank you. Oh, I’ve missed your treats,” Io said, taking a bite. “Not only have Agamemnon and Calchas stayed in the hut, but I haven’t seen Nicodamas for seven days. We can’t work the furnace in this weather and I’m missing him so much. Maybe you could take him a message, Neo?”

“You must very keen on metal work,” Odysseus said.

I shot him a disapproving look, which he ignored.

Io continued with her description of the misery inside Agamemnon’s hut. “And you won’t believe this! Hesta’s still coming round to help Calchas. You’d think the storm would give her an excuse, but she seems to like being with him. What must it be like in Achilles’ camp if she prefers it with us.”

“Perhaps she’s a hidden reason for her visits?” Odysseus suggested, sitting down next to Ellissa.

Io laughed, “What, like she’s secretly in love with Calchas?”

“Ah, you mustn’t assume everyone’s driven by the same motives as yourself,” he said.

“I’m not in love with Calchas!” Io snorted.

“Didn’t think for one moment you were, I’ve much more respect for your judgement than that. The man you’ve chosen is a very different character. Possibly better looking too.”

Io thought for a moment, then her eyes widened and she blushed.

Odysseus held up his hands. “I won’t say a word to Agamemnon. But remember, from Heracles’ fort, anyone can look down and see what’s going on in Nicodamas’ forge.”

Chapter TWENTY-TWO

Warning

W
hen the spring high tide swept the driftwood onto the beach, Io and I walked along the shoreline with one of the mules, collecting the larger pieces for the fires.

“So if Nicodamus makes a sword from one piece of bronze, it’ll be stronger and won’t shatter so easily. Agamemnon says when he presents him with such a sword, he’ll give consent to our marriage,” Io said, placing a large branch onto the back of the mule.

“But what if he can’t?”

“That’s the beauty of it, Nicodamas knows he can. Since we’ve been here, he’s found abandoned swords designed like that. He says he can copy them easy enough.”

“Maybe the war will be over soon and then you could be married in Mycenae,” I said, flinging wood on the mule’s back. The mule turned, flicked its tail and tried to bite my arm. I jumped out of range of her mouth and sighed, “Maybe that’s too much to hope for.”

“It’s got to end sometime, it can’t go on forever,” Io said, tugging at the mule as it dug its hooves into the sand. “But give me a hand with this idiotic animal. Now she’s refusing to move at all.”

We pulled and pushed and shouted, but the mule wouldn’t budge.

I stood back and stared at her. The eyes had a very determined and angry look.

“Push her again,” Io cried.

“No, let’s turn her round and see if she prefers the other way.”

We dragged the animal until she faced the Mycenae camp. Immediately her ears sprang forward and her tail twitched. I jumped away, fearing another biting attempt, but this time the mule took off and galloped across the sands as if part of a champion chariot team. Io was yanked off her feet and dragged for a short distance, before remembering to let go of the rope.

I hurried to her, trying to hide a smile as she cursed the beast.

“Seems the mule wanted to go home too,” I said, helping her up.

“Stupid thing,” Io moaned, inspecting her rope burnt hands. “At least she’s taking the wood where we want it.”

I glanced back towards the middle of the beach and could just make out the Ithacan and Mycenae camps, almost hidden by the surrounding ships, tents and equipment. There seemed to be men and horses moving around our hut. I tried to focus.

“What is it? What can you see?” Io said.

“There’s a scouting party back too early.”

I ran towards our camp by the most direct route, dodging round tents and pushing through groups of soldiers. I ducked under ropes and scrambled over the ships. Sweat trickled into my eyes and through blurred vision, I saw Odysseus’ chariot and his favourite black horses. In the centre of Agamemnon’s camp, Calchas and Hesta stood in my way. I twisted round them but Calchas reached out, caught hold of my cloak and pulled me back.

“We need to make sacrifices to Apollo,” he said, spitting the words into my face.

I pushed him away but stumbled into a stack of spears, giving Calchas chance to grab the edge of my cloak.

He shrieked at me. “I told him the omens were not good. I told him this morning, but he wouldn’t listen.”

I plunged forward and dragged him, like oxen pulling a plough, but Calchas held on. Then the catch on Lysander’s brooch broke, and I slipped out of the cloak and headed towards the group of Ithacans. Agenor was there, leading Odysseus’ black horses away. He looked round and watched me, but he didn’t smile. No one was smiling.

“Where’s Odysseus?” I cried.

As if in slow motion, almost everyone in the group turned to stare at me.

“Where’s Odysseus?”

The group parted. I saw Big Ajax lifting a body from the chariot. My brother looked small as the huge warrior carried him into our hut and placed him gently on the wooden pallet that served as his bed. I knelt beside him and touched his face. He was cold and motionless, except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

Then Antilochus was with me, pouring out desperate words in an attempt to give comfort. “Ellissa’s gone for Machaon. It might not be as bad as it looks. You know how good Machaon is. He’ll be able to do something…”

He continued like this while we waited for the healer and I stared at the large gash in my brother’s side, already roughly patched up by Hyppos. Then I concentrated on the long white line running down his left thigh, the scar of an old wound from the tusk of a savage boar, obtained as a fourteen year old on his first boar hunt. I hoped it was proof that Odysseus was well protected by his patron goddess, Athena.