by Peter Tonkin
ii
The palace was bustling with preparations for the feast and Odysseus dismissed me to change out of my tunic and into my formal himation then practise my song in preparation for the evening while he strode off to talk with the Myrmidon cooks about parsnips, poisons and so-forth. But before Briseis also went to wash and change, she visited King Euenos. I followed her, my mind still teeming with suspicion, and discovered that the old king was being tended by Hepat, Khloe and Thalia as usual, one of whom had brought him his honey cakes. At last I got to discover which of the young women was which, because Hepat and Thalia were both still tearful at the news of young Timaeus’ murder. ‘Of course my heart is broken,’ said Hepat bravely as she adjusted the drooling king’s clothing for him, ‘but perhaps it was all for the best. I saw the terrible damage that had been done to the poor lamb before they bandaged him and I know he really wanted to die. The whole side of his face was gone. His mouth was just a formless gape. All his teeth smashed along that side; nothing left but bloody stumps. The thought of going through life suffering constant agony and looking like that…’ She shook her head and gulped, unable to say any more. I noticed for the first time, despite the tears and the sad expression, that there was something surprisingly attractive about her face. The remains, it seemed to me, of a great, long-vanished, beauty.
‘But how is Theron?’ asked Briseis gently.
‘On the mend, so Calix says. He’s the one who will be really hurt by the boy’s death. He worshipped the lad. He’ll want revenge if I know him. He’ll never find the man who ruined the boy’s face during the battle of course. But he will want to find the man who killed his son in that cowardly fashion last night and slit his own throat for him.’
‘Well, it’s a blessing that he’s on the mend at least,’ said the princess sympathetically.
‘Perhaps.’ Hepat shrugged dejectedly. ‘But that hardly makes any difference. You know they’ll only split us up in the end. Theron’s strong and good with his hands – they’ll find work for him with the weapons or the chariots so he’ll be staying with Agamemnon’s army outside Troy. Me they’ll probably ship back to Pylos and the reed-beds where the flax is grown to make linen. I’m too old for anything else. Old and ugly. And as for my pretty little Thalia, the best she can hope for is an understanding master who will not use her unkindly, married to a wife who won’t get too jealous when he takes her to his bed.’
‘An understanding master with a tolerant wife. That’s the best we can all hope for now,’ said Briseis, her tone bracing rather than self-pitying.
‘I’ll talk to King Odysseus,’ I offered. ‘He is gentle and understanding…’
‘Except when he’s on the battlefield,’ said Briseis sharply, surprised, I think, to discover that I was there, listening to their conversation.
‘He could send you back to Ithaka, to Queen Penelope, Princess,’ I persisted. ‘If I was to ask him. You’d be safe and well looked after there.’
‘Not me,’ said Briseis tartly. ‘I belong to Achilles. The best I can hope for is Phthia – if he survives the siege and ever gets to go home. A tent outside Troy in the meantime.’
‘Achilles,’ said Khloe – the one whose wide brown eyes were not red with weeping for a murdered brother. ‘I think you could do much worse than golden Achilles, Highness. Even as his bed-slave.’
‘True,’ admitted Briseis. ‘I could be that foul beast Aias’ plaything now – unless he’d already had enough of me and passed me on to his men. And you don’t need to call me “Highness” anymore. I’m just a slave like you and slaves are all equal. Every Achaean man, most women and even some of their animals are superior to us. Even crippled songsmiths.’
The final comment hurt me, as it was designed to do. I turned away and began to limp off down the corridor toward the rooms I was sharing with Odysseus and his men. But as I did so I glanced back. The king was slouched helplessly in his seat by the window with Hepat and Thalia fussing over him. Briseis was leaning forward to say something in a voice too quiet for me to hear. But Khloe’s soft brown eyes had followed me and as our gazes met, a quiver ran through my body and my breath shortened as though I had been running.
***
I never completed my song about the underworld. I was seated on the rhapsode’s stool dressed in my formal himation, lyre in hand, with my back to a column beside the great fire pit, watching through half closed eyes as the royal celebrants finished off the last of their feast while I sang. They were mostly nibbling on salads of vegetables and herbs now that the meat was all consumed and the formal toasts completed. I wondered idly how much parsnip had been served tonight. I hadn’t seen, smelt or tasted any. They were all seated where they had been last night, with the empty throne in the middle, then Briseis on one side and Achilles on the other. My seat was the only empty one because of course there had been no place prepared for Mnestheus. I had just arrived at the point in my song’s list of famous denizens of Hades’ realm where a famous rhapsode of an earlier generation called Orpheus fails to release his beloved Euridice from the king of the underworld’s grasp, according to one of the stories about him. All because he looked back while leading her along a lengthy tunnel towards the light; just as I had looked back to see Khloe watching me depart which was a dangerously distracting memory. Then, mid-refrain, everything was interrupted. Oddly, it was the actual chest of gold that disrupted the song about Hades’ legendary coffer filled with golden souls.
Perimedes burst into the megaron, claiming everyone’s attention at once. Had it been anyone other than Perimedes or Elpenor I would have been angered to say the least but one glance at the speedy oarsman’s normally placid countenance warned me that something important was going on. I was by no means alone in this. Odysseus was on his feet before Perimedes began to speak. ‘Perimedes!’ he said. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Fire,’ said Thalassa’s oarsman. ‘King Idas’ ship Posidaea is ablaze.’
We all rushed out of the megaron in one disorganised crowd but it wasn’t long before Aias and Odysseus took the lead and I managed to catch up with them as they hurried through the lower city and out of the western gate, having paused for a moment to drop off my lyre. I don’t know who else had been told about the gold in King Idas’ quarters, but word of such a fortune would have spread through the camps as though Hermes, messenger of the gods, had carried it. The two kings were both very well aware that the fire at least put the vast treasure at risk – and could easily be a cover for its theft.
‘You left it well guarded?’ asked Odysseus as he and Aias hurried past the skeletal funeral platforms and through the Locrian camp towards the blazing vessel.
‘Of course,’ snarled Aias. ‘Two men in the cabin and four men on the beach. My best men, Armoured and armed to the teeth. No-one could have got past them.’
‘And the sailors normally on watch?’ Odysseus enquired.
‘I dismissed them. My guards were more than sufficient. My army is as well prepared as any!’
‘Let’s hope they’ve had the good sense to arrange teams of men to douse the fire, then.’ Odysseus said. ‘And drench the ships beached nearest on each side.’
‘At least there’s plenty of water nearby,’ observed Briseis as she stepped out of the shadows. I gasped with surprise at her sudden appearance, then fell to choking and coughing, for I had already been winded by my attempts to catch up with the two kings. As I slowed, fighting for breath, the princess’ new owner arrived with Patroclus just behind him. Briseis stepped back into the shadows once more, fearful, perhaps, that the prince of Phthia would wish to reclaim her after all. As she had pointed out to Hepat, it was his right to do so whenever he chose. But he hardly seemed to notice her. ‘I’ll get my Myrmidons organised,’ said Achilles. ‘Should we be trying to pull the ship off the beach and fight the fire out in the bay?’ I wondered whether his quick-thinking suggestion might add to Briseis suspicion that the gold in fact was his – part of some devious but as yet obscure plan
.
‘I don’t think so,’ answered Odysseus. ‘The other warships and the supply vessels are too tightly packed out there. That might do more damage than good. I’ll know when we come closer. I’ll see if I can get aboard and we’ll take it from there.’
‘Right,’ said Achilles and was off at a run, Patroclus at his shoulder. After a few steps, the swift prince of Phthia slowed so that his limping companion could keep up.
‘Get aboard?’ said Briseis reappearing immediately and asking the question because the full extent of the fire devouring her bows was becoming clear. ‘How will you get aboard?’
‘Swim!’ spat Odysseus. ‘Unless there’s a boat nearby.’
‘Good idea,’ agreed Briseis grudgingly.
‘Aias, are you coming aboard?’ asked Odysseus. ‘It’s your ship after all, now that it’s original commander is dead.’
‘The slave girl is right. A small boat might be a good idea. I do not swim. Only common people…’ The rest of Aias’ observation was lost beneath the hubbub that swept over us as we came even nearer to the blaze.
iii
There was a steady breeze blowing in from the bay and it carried smoke, sparks, flames and sounds across the beach towards us. We shouldered our way through the crowd of soldiers looking at the writhing inferno. Within moments we were at the front, on the beach, close enough to feel the heat. Lines of men were toiling with any container that came to hand, throwing water onto the blazing forecastle – and onto the vessels on either side. This was obviously an excellent idea for even though they were not yet on fire, the closest ships were steaming beneath the deluge. I wondered whether it should be they, rather than the burning ship, that should be pulled out into the bay. But of course even attempting such a thing would require careful, time-consuming organisation. Odysseus paused on the sand, his toes at the tideline, looking along the shore in the leaping brightness of the fire. As he stood there, Perimedes and Elpenor joined him and I realised that Aias had vanished.
‘There!’ Odysseus called and was sprinting towards a broad-beamed, solid-looking boat bobbing in the shallows, obviously having been used as a tender to the larger supply ships further out. The other two were off at once and I would never have followed them had I been left to my own devices long enough for good sense to prevail. But they were hardly in motion before Princess Briseis was hard on their heels and I found myself hard on hers.
Elpenor arrived at the vessel first, waded out, lifted the rope weighted with a stone used to anchor it and pulled it to shore. Odysseus and Perimedes stepped aboard straight off the sand, then hesitated as Briseis arrived. Odysseus shrugged and his massive oarsmen lifted the princess aboard as well. The hesitation was just long enough for me to arrive and pull myself clumsily into the bow. Elpenor climbed carefully into the stern, his weight making the bow lift clear of the sand. He stooped carefully, took a pole from the bottom and shoved us out into deeper water. I struggled to sit up straight, managing to tear my himation on a splinter of wood from the battered gunwale. Then, with the dexterity of long experience, Elpenor poled us out behind the ship beached next to Posidaeia and across to the stern of the burning vessel itself.
It only took a moment for Elpenor to bring us alongside. Perimedes threw the anchor-rope across and secured us to the hull. Odysseus climbed aboard, followed by his two oarsmen. The three of them towered on the after deck beside the steering oars, looking along the hull towards the blazing forecastle. The wind was still gusting fitfully from behind them, blowing the flames towards the shore. From what I could see, there was a long section of undamaged hull before the areas claimed by the fire which had obviously and sinisterly started in King Idas’ cabin.
The three of them began to move carefully forward. It was immediately clear that they had no intention of helping Briseis or myself aboard with them. The princess hissed with frustration. I, however, saw a route out of our predicament. There was no way that I, with my ill-healed legs and club-like arm could pull myself up onto the main deck like my captain and ship-mates. But Posidaeia was a sleek, oar-powered warship, and the oars, when they were not stowed as they were at present, stuck out through indentations cut into the side. These reached down from the top of the hull to the oar locks, level with the rowing benches and were just a little wider than my shoulders. It required no great strength or dexterity to pull my robe clear of the little vessel’s splintered side and crawl through the nearest of these onto the vacant rowing bench inboard of it. No sooner was I aboard than Briseis joined me. The three sailors strode along the higher central deck-platform towards the mast and the fire beyond it, black shapes against the starry sky – seemingly almost as high above us as the moon. As they proceeded, however, they were forced to raise their voices to overcome the roaring of the flames, so it was easy enough for Briseis and me to make out what they were saying as we shadowed them below.
‘Yes,’ said Odysseus. ‘There’s no doubt. More than one person came aboard at the stern and crept forward.’
‘More than one for sure, Captain,’ emphasised Perimedes. ‘They must have swum out, climbed aboard, crept to the bows and then probably crept back.’
‘That would certainly explain the trail of water left along the deck,’ agreed Odysseus. ‘And it would be the perfect way to come aboard without arousing the suspicion of Aias’ guards posted on the beach. The pair in the cabin with the gold must have presented a completely different problem.’
‘He’s not convinced; he has a doubt,’ whispered Briseis, talking to herself rather than to me, I suspected. But catching the pensive tone of Odysseus’ words as clearly as I did. ‘The only purpose in coming aboard must be to take the gold. But even if they found a way of dealing with the guards – which they clearly did or the fire would never have got such a firm hold without the alarm being raised - the chest has to have been extremely heavy. If they swam out to get aboard, how could they possibly swim away carrying something as weighty as that?’ she mused quietly.
***
‘They couldn’t,’ I said.
‘Therefore,’ she continued, ‘they have either hidden the chest aboard planning to return for it or the men who came aboard had accomplices waiting in the water below. Which seems most likely. Why hide the gold in the hull and then set it on fire? That would be utterly self-defeating. There must have been accomplices in the water.’
‘To whom they lowered the chest,’ I said. ‘But even then it would have been too heavy to do anything with…’
‘Well,’ continued Odysseus up above us. ‘Let’s go and see whether we can learn anything solid before the wind backs and the fire starts coming this way.’
As they moved ahead, so did we, clambering further forward over the low rowing benches and avoiding the indrawn oars as best we could. As we did so, it suddenly struck me that it was Briseis and me rather than Odysseus and his companions who were on the right level. If Odysseus wanted to try and enter the place where the gold had been stored, he would need to come down off the raised deck onto the rowing deck which opened into the forward cabin that had been King Idas’ quarters. And that led me to realise the same must have been true for whoever had left the watery trail the captain and his oarsmen were following. The closer we came to the fire, however, the more reluctant I was to proceed. The heat was becoming uncomfortable. The smoke was not only choking me but blinding me into the bargain as it eddied forward and backward on the increasingly uncertain breeze. I paused, coughing helplessly and Briseis pushed past me. Stung by her actions, I too pushed further forward than I would otherwise have done.
Odysseus and his companions were crouched in the doorway to the cabin where the gold had been stored. I copied their action and as I did so, the air cleared for one last time as the thickest and hottest smoke passed mostly up above my head. I gasped in the cleaner air down here, and was able to see better too.
‘Can you see the chest?’ Briseis called to me.
‘No,’ I called back. ‘But I can see two dead guards. I thi
nk Odysseus might be risking going into the cabin for a closer look. I can’t make out much detail beyond the fact that they are both lying on their backs and seem to have had their throats cut.’
Even over the deafening sound of the fire, Odysseus heard us. He stopped where he was in the flame-bright doorway and swung round angrily. ‘You two,’ he roared. ‘Get out of here. Now!’
Briseis, of course hesitated, deciding whether or not to argue with the peremptory command but I turned away at once. Because the princess was blocking the inner part of our route back, I went out, preparing to squeeze past her along the planks of the ship’s side. No sooner had I done so than I too stopped. I was at the forward rowing bench and the low section in the hull which the oar would go through. The wood here was splintered. As soon as I hesitated, exploring the jagged edge with my fingers, I noticed a considerable puddle on the deck beneath my feet. It took me less than a heartbeat to make the connection between the puddle and the splinters.