by P. J. Hoover
“Did she have a choice in the matter?” Dory asked. “Maybe she liked Paris. Maybe she wanted to go with him.”
I elbowed Dory to make him shut up.
“Of course, she didn’t want anything to do with that Trojan filth,” the guy said. “And for her honor and the honor of King Menelaus, we fight.”
“We fight!” another guy echoed. “And near as I can tell, that time has come.”
He was right. All the partying noises had simmered down to nothing. Which didn’t make me all that happy. Sure, I wanted to be a soldier, but an entire war over some girl seemed borderline ridiculous.
“On my mark, we move,” Odysseus said.
“I’m not attacking anyone,” Dory whispered.
I had no plans to, either. In every single practice fight during soldier training classes, I’d gotten my butt kicked. If it were up to me, I’d call off the war and join the Trojans for their party.
“Just stay back,” I said.
The words were barely out of my mouth when this little side door of the cart we were crammed into flew open. Firelight flooded the inside, as did fresh air. Now that I could see our companions, the reason for the horrific scent became clear. There were five big sweaty guys with beards and long hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in years.
“Attack!” Odysseus said, announcing his battle plans to the world. He was obviously their leader because they all grabbed the hilts of their swords and jumped after him as he dropped out the side of the cart.
I peeked out to see them running back in the direction from where we’d come, screaming and lighting fires as they went.
“What do you think we should do?” I asked Dory.
Outside the cart, a bunch of people slept in the streets, despite all the noise Odysseus and his guys were making. There was trash and all sorts of empty bottles scattered everywhere making it pretty clear they’d been drinking more than juice.
Dory leaned out next to me but then sat back really fast onto his butt.
“Whoa,” he said.
“What’s up?”
He pointed down. “Did you see how high up we are?”
I leaned back out because the height didn’t bother me. We were a good twenty feet in the air, but the crazy thing was that when I looked down, there were wooden horse legs below us. I craned my head upward. Yep, there was a horse head, painted bright gold. We were inside of a colossal wooden horse.
“Hermes did this,” I said. “The horse toy. We’re inside it.”
“We’re inside a toy?” Dory said. “That doesn’t make a lot of sense, Homer.”
I shook my head. “Not inside the toy. Life size, but like the toy. We’re inside a giant wooden horse.”
“A giant wooden horse?” Dory said.
It didn’t make a whole heck of a lot of sense to me either.
A bunch of yelling and screaming came from off in the distance. I guess Odysseus and his men had woken up the Trojans. The attack had begun.
“I got it, Homer! We should stay here,” Dory said. “You can work on the story. This is why Hermes sent us here. He probably thinks you should write about this battle. Quick, get the scroll out.”
It almost sounded like a good idea, except then, the tallest building that I could see from the giant horse burst into flames. Then, the one in front of that caught fire. And then the next. And the fact that we were in a wooden horse was not lost on me. Firelight reflected off the golden paint. This was not the place to be during a raging fire.
“We need to go,” I said to Dory.
He didn’t even look out. “I’m staying here.”
I grabbed his arm. “Seriously. We need to go now.”
Dory only shook his head.
I yanked on his arm, and he yanked back, and we weren’t getting anywhere, and the flames were getting closer. Heat poured off them and came toward us in waves.
This was not how I wanted to die. This was not when I wanted to die. If I died, Mom would be out on the streets. Not to mention I’d abandoned her just like Dad had left us. I had to at least try to save our farm. I couldn’t give up yet, not before I’d even started.
I looked out again. Not only were the flames getting closer, but a bunch of people were running toward us. People waving swords and shovels that looked like they’d kill anyone who got in their way, which we, being inside this horse, definitely were.
“Okay, I’ll make you a deal, Dory. If you get out of this horse then …” My voice drifted off. What did I possibly have to offer Dory? Potatoes and a couple strips of bacon from our farm?
“Then what?”
I bit my lip. “What do you want? Name it, and I’ll do it. Just hurry.”
Dory didn’t hesitate. “I want you to teach me to read and write.”
Everyone knew that teaching a slave to read and write was illegal. The penalty was something horrible like getting your hands chopped off or your fingernails pulled out or an equally torturous punishment like that. But I figured that was the least of my worries. I could start teaching Dory, and when he saw how hard it was, he’d give up and no one would ever find out.
“Done,” I said. “Just get off your butt and come on.”
“You promise, Homer?” he said.
“I promise. Now move.”
That’s all it took. Okay, it also took me holding Dory out over the edge of the opening as far as I could so his drop would be small. Then, of course, I had to jump after him. But the oncoming hoards and fire hurried me. I landed hard on one of the horse’s giant wooden wheels, but I got up super-fast and ignored the shooting pain that went up my back. Then, I grabbed Dory’s hand, and we bolted away from the crowd.
We had to wind around tons of people screaming and buildings burning, and I was certain at least eight different times that we’d come to our end. The battle raged the entire night. We hid behind barrels and buildings and even tucked away in a sewer for part of it. But then the sun came up from over the horizon, and the gates loomed open before us, and we dashed through, out of the city and toward the beach.
“To the boats!” Odysseus shouted. He stood near a dozen black ships with bright blue sails all anchored out in the water. “The battle is won! We’re going home!”
Home sounded great to me. I had totally gotten everything I needed to fill the scroll. I pictured myself relaxing on the boat, writing out all the details from the battle while Odysseus took us back to Ionia. This would totally keep me in school. Except then Dory saw the cat.
“Homer, look!” Dory said, elbowing me hard.
It was stuck on top of the city walls. Fire came at it from both sides. It was too far away to hear, but it kept opening its mouth like it was crying. And even though I wasn’t much of a cat person despite the fact that we had like a thousand of them running around the farm, a twang of sadness washed over me. Like it was this one tiny creature in this huge battle without a chance.
Dory took a step toward it but then stepped back and bit his lip.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I said.
“Someone should save it,” Dory said. But he didn’t move forward.
I was about to disagree when the cat meowed and cried again, and the sound drifted over the horrendous battle, a pitiful wailing that wormed its way inside me, almost like we were supposed to hear it. And I knew that even if this cat was completely unimportant, Dory was right. Someone had to save it. But after the whole jumping out of the horse incident, that someone wasn’t going to be Dory. He’d never get past how high the city walls were.
“I’ll get it,” I said, regretting the words the second they left my lips.
Dory gritted his teeth and glanced back at the boats. “Odysseus is about it leave.”
“I know. I’ll be right back. I have to save the cat.”
I didn’t stick around to wait for him to say anything else. Instead I took off, back for the burning walls of Troy. Once I got to the bottom of the wall, I scoured the area, looking for anything that would h
elp me get up to the top. From here the cat’s howls were deafening over the crackling fire.
Off to my left were a few barrels, but they were too close to the flames. The right was no better. Some crates had been smashed to pieces. I didn’t need much. If I could just get something to raise me up about five feet, I could grab the ledge.
“Here, foot up,” Dory said.
I turned to find him behind me, clasping his hands. I didn’t waste time. I stepped into his handhold and hefted myself up. But it wasn’t enough. I was about six inches too short.
“Sorry about this,” I said, and I stepped on Dory’s head.
He let out a bunch of words I’m not going to repeat, because I didn’t want to risk Elder Pachis saying my story wasn’t age appropriate. Not that I had any idea who, if anyone, would ever read my story besides him.
But the extra height was enough. My fingers grasped the ledge. I pulled myself up, even with my puny muscles. And then I balanced on the ledge.
“Here, Kitty.” I held my hands out, praying to the gods that I didn’t fall and break my neck.
The cat wasted no time. It launched at me and landed on my head, digging its claws into my scalp. Payback for me stepping on Dory’s head, no doubt. But that was okay. I had the thing.
I lowered myself until I hung from the ledge, and then I dropped.
From out of nowhere, a little girl ran up and grabbed the cat off my head. She looked like she was about three years old and wore a tattered green dress and had dark hair and long eyelashes that made her green eyes look super huge.
“You saved Grumpy,” she said, and she hugged the cat so hard to her chest that I worried she was going to crush him.
“Yeah, I did,” I said. I reached out to rub the top of her head, but she jumped back like she thought I was going to poison her with my touch. And here I was the one who’d just saved her cat. Also what kind of name was Grumpy for a cat, anyway?
But then Dory reached out and scratched the cat between the ears, and neither the little girl nor the cat seemed to mind.
“I always wanted a cat,” Dory said.
“We need to go now,” I said, yanking on Dory’s arm.
The lifeboat was already away from the beach. The little girl’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the ships, and then she whipped around so fast, her tangled dark hair flew around in a giant circle, showing off a huge smudge of dirt on the back of her neck. Or maybe a tattoo, because it almost seemed to have a pattern to it. Then she ran away.
We dug our feet into the sand and ran for the boats. All the hairy, smelly guys were already aboard, too, holding weapons and treasures from the burning city of Troy. They grinned like … like … I had no idea.
“What’s a good comparison for the way they’re grinning?” I asked Dory.
“You mean like a simile?” Dory said.
“Sure.” Whatever that was.
Dory thought for a second, then said, “They grinned like they just won the war!”
“Right. Like victory. That’s good. I’ll use it. Elder Pachis is sure to like that.” I was becoming a master storyteller, and I hadn’t even put a word down on the scroll yet.
The water pushed against us as we waded through it, but it was no match for our determination. I was going to get on this boat and go home. When we finally got within reach, some of the guys hauled us onboard.
I found a corner to sit out of the way, filled my pen with ink, and started writing. This was the epic story that would save our farm, and I was not going to forget a second of it. I had to fill the entire scroll.
Odysseus shouted a couple commands, and everyone jumped into motion, running around, pulling on ropes, turning wheels. Then the boats started really moving, leaving the burning city of Troy far behind.
“You ready to teach me?” Dory said.
I shook my head, not slowing down. I had to get the story out.
“I’ll teach you once we get back to Ionia,” I said. There would be plenty of time to teach Dory to read and write, unless of course I was cast out onto the streets. Then my life would be basically over. Right now, I had to get this story down.
“No way, Homer,” Dory said. “You promised.”
“And I’ll keep my promise,” I said. “As soon as we get back to Ionia.”
“Ionia?” some burly guy that looked like he bench-pressed Doric columns for fun said. His skin was dark, like the color of ebony. Actually, come to think of it, all of the guys and Odysseus himself had dark skin. I’d seen skin that color a few times when we traveled to some of the coastal cities, but never in Ionia.
Dory kind of shrugged like maybe he was embarrassed by the fact that we were from such a backward place. Coastal cities were a lot more fun, if rumors could be believed. “It’s where we’re from.”
“Yeah, we’re going back there,” I said.
The burly guy shook his head. “We’re not going to Ionia. We sail to Ithaca.”
Ithaca! That was on the other side of the universe. Or maybe at least the other side of the sea. I don’t know. I’d fallen asleep during Geography. Still, that wasn’t going to work at all.
“Wait. Why Ithaca?” Dory said.
The guy looked at us like we’d lost our brains in the battle of Troy. “Because Odysseus is king of Ithaca.”
The big smelly guy was a king? No way. I tried to picture him with a crown on, getting his feet rubbed by servants, but I just couldn’t. All he’d done so far was give one sentence commands and burn down an entire city. He also struck me as loud and impulsive and not so smart.
I opened my mouth to ask if maybe I’d heard wrong, but right then, Odysseus, the king, sauntered up. The bulky guy bowed his head and stepped back.
“Excuse me, Odysseus?” I said. Was I supposed to call him King Odysseus? He wasn’t my king.
“What is it?” he asked, hardly casting a glance at me or Dory.
“We need to get to Ionia,” I said.
He shook his hairy head. “Not going to happen. We sail straight for Ithaca. And nothing is going to get in our way.”
AS YOU SET OUT FOR ITHACA
TURNED OUT THAT EVERYONE ON THE BOAT NEEDED a job.
“No free rides,” Eurylochus said in his whiny voice when he discovered Dory and I stowed away behind some barrels.
“It’s Dory and me,” Dory said. “Not Dory and I.”
I smudged the words on the scroll and changed it. Dory may not know much when it came to reading and writing, but he had this grammar thing down. I’d asked him about the Dactylic Hexameter part of it, but sadly he had no clue.
“I have a job,” I said, holding up the scroll.
Eurylochus narrowed his eyes like he thought the scroll was some sort of weapon. “What’re you gonna do with that?” As he spoke, he stroked his beard. He’d trimmed it since the battle with Troy was over. His dark skin glistened, but not with sweat, like he’d put in a hard day’s work. More like he’d smoothed oil on himself. And his nails had been cleaned and filed and buffed so much the sun reflected off them.
“I’m recording the story,” I said. “It’s really important. It will make the Trojan Horse famous.” That’s what I’d called it in the story. The Trojan Horse. I thought it was pretty catchy. It was also a pretty clever idea. Odysseus himself had come up with it, according to what we’d overheard from the guys. Maybe he was smarter than he seemed at first glance.
“Have you approved that with King Odysseus?” Eurylochus asked, still stroking his beard. It formed a perfect point at the bottom of his chin.
“Sure,” I said, even though I hadn’t. Not really.
Okay, not at all. But since Odysseus was the main character of the Trojan Horse story, I was sure he’d be fine with it.
Eurylochus either believed me or didn’t want to question me anymore in case it might make him look stupid.
“What’d’bout you?” he said to Dory. “What’re you good for?”
Dory shrugged. “I can cook.”
Eurylochus st
oked his beard again since it had been over two seconds since the last time he did it. “Well, our last cook did get thrown overboard and eaten by a giant octopus.”
“He got thrown overboard?” I said.
Eurylochus nodded. “Nobody liked his cooking.”
I shuddered. But Dory just smiled.
And that’s how Dory got his job.
“SO WE GO TO ITHACA AND THEN FIND A WAY TO Ionia from there,” I said to Dory. He was in the galley—that’s what some guy with an eyepatch told us the kitchen on a boat is called—covered in grain, mushing a bunch of dough he assured me would make bread. I hoped someone in Ithaca knew about Dactylic Hexameter.
“We could just stay in Ithaca,” Dory said.
“Are you kidding? No way. Why would we do that?”
“I don’t know,” Dory said. “What if we can’t find a way to get back to Ionia from there?”
“We’ll find a way,” I said. There was no way I was staying in Ithaca. I was going to get back to Ionia, finish school, and become a soldier. My future was mapped out.
“If you say so.”
“I do say so,” I said. Dory acted like he didn’t want to get back. But that wasn’t even an option for me. Even though she didn’t know it, Mom was counting on me. I was not going to let her down.
I grabbed the hourglass from the rope around my neck and checked the sand level. It wasn’t even a fourth empty. Not even an eighth. But the sand still fell from the top to the bottom. Which was weird. Two full days had gone by. I tapped it, just to check. The sand slipped through, grain by grain.
“How long will it take to get to Ithaca?” Dory asked. “These guys eat so much food. It’s not going to last that much longer.”
The galley was connected to a storeroom, more empty than not, which was great because that’s where Dory and I slept. One benefit of being the cook. Otherwise we’d be stuck below deck in hammocks listening to fifty snoring guys.
“Less than a week, Odysseus says. I asked him,” I said. At less than a week, I’d still have time to get back to Ionia. Sure, there was no time to waste, but it would all work out.