Linos, Scander, and the remaining Thirian whose name I had yet to learn were already saddled up and ready for action. The Thirian eagerness and enthusiasm in the face of overwhelming odds was always a reassurance to me during such trying times. I could only hope that we would all see one another come out on the other side.
12
The sun had barely risen the next morning when we came upon them. A long line of horsemen strode out from over a hill on the horizon, directly in our path to Hattusa. More of them filed down over the hillside as the full regiment came into view. At the sight of their flags waving high above their heads, there was no mistaking it: these were Hittite soldiers, they were prepared for war, and there was nowhere else along their directed path but Ilium. My men estimated that their numbers were somewhere close to twice as many as ours, but it was difficult to tell as their troops were not moving in an orderly fashion that made estimating easy.
“Should we send a messenger to ask what they want?” asked one of the men at my side.
“I think their intentions are clear,” I said. “but we might as well. I don’t want to shed unnecessary blood. Send a report back to the city, too, and have a man on standby ready to send a follow up to the Queen of the outcome.”
“Sir.” The man acknowledged my command and relayed my orders to several messengers down the line.
Within the next minute, the men were dispatched, one of them hurrying ahead of us on horseback to meet the coming horde. I knew that, whatever message he returned to us with, things were about to take an ugly turn.
I watched as he stopped several yards short of the legion’s commander. Their exchange was brief, but the Hittites’ response was clear. The commander raised an arm, and a man several horses down drew his bow and shot our messenger down. He fell to the grass as every one of our men let out a unified astonished gasp. His steed took off in surprise, heading over the edge of the hill and out of sight. The enemy crawled forward, savoring the moment.
“To strike down a messenger . . . such a thing is unheard of unprovoked,” the man at my side breathed.
“It is a cruel thing to do,” I agreed, “but it seems we have our response.”
He was shaking his head, looking down at the grass. Linos rode nearer to us, his massive spiked club crossed over his lap.
“Shall we go to battle then?” he asked.
“Yes, but let’s take a moment,” I said. “We’re seriously outnumbered here, and we don’t have the advantage of surprise like we did with the Greeks.”
“If I am allowed to speak freely, sir,” began the Trojan at my side. “I do not think we have much hope here. The odds are simply stacked too high against us.”
“If you think that, then why are you here, soldier?” I asked. I agreed with him, but the last thing I was going to do was prematurely admit defeat in front of my men.
“I am sorry, sir.”
Time was waning. I needed to think of something clever fast. If we charged in headfirst, it was doubtful we would make it to the other side alive. Retreating was no option either. We had nowhere to go but back to the city, and then the citizens would be in danger. Everyone was still recovering from the conflict of only a year ago. Another bloody fight on the palace’s doorsteps would not be welcomed. Besides, even if we did draw back and win, it would cost us time that was too precious to spare.
I looked to my left and saw a small forest. It was loosely packed, with spaces between the trees large enough for our horses to fit comfortably. And there was a hill not far behind us. These were the only two environmental factors that could have been of some use, so the hamster in my head began spinning in its wheel on overdrive as I stitched together a plan.
I said to the men around me, “We’re all going to make as if we’re retreating. We will go as a group to the top of the hill we just came from. They’re likely expecting us to do as much since we are so few.” Everyone within earshot leaned in, listening intently. “Once we get to the top of the hill, the men at the back half of our battalion will continue down the other side of the hill—the plan is that the Hittites will not see this going on behind the motion of our front-facing half as we make for the woods over there. Understand so far?”
I glanced around and saw two dozen heads nodding. “Good.” I continued, “Once we’re deep enough in the forest to obscure their view of us, we’ll prepare our ranged weapons. I know most of you have bows, but those of you who have spears should not be afraid to throw them. We want to pick off as many of them as we can before they’re close enough to make accurate shots.”
“But, sir,” said one of the men, “what if they continue following our other men over the hill?”
“If they do that, then those men will keep running until the enemy legion has completely cleared the hill. From there, the rest of us will reemerge from the forest and flank them from atop the hill, raining arrows down upon them. But I doubt they will do as much if we can hide the fact that half of our troops are breaking off toward the other side of the hill. Either way, our goal is to flank them. If they do as I plan and pursue us to the forest, the rest of our men will come back to the top of the hill, and they will do the flanking. Does everyone understand?”
Again, I saw many sets of heads vigorously nodding. To be sure, I had several of them repeat back to me what they had heard. At that time, the Hittites had covered half of the distance to us.
“All right!” I said. “Give them another minute so that they will be in range of the hill, and we’ll set our plan into action. We should know early on what they plan to do because they will either chase us to the woods or continue to the hill.” I did a lot of repeating myself in those crucial minutes, wanting to leave no chance of misinterpretation.
The seconds ticked by. When the enemy came as close as I could stand, I gave the signal and the plan was set in motion. All of us hurried away and up the hill, and, when half of us were on the side obstructed from the Hittites’ view, that half continued down the rest of the way while those of us that the enemy still could see made a sharp break to the right, heading straight for the woods.
It seemed that they took the bait. After a brief stall, the commander reoriented his men and they were coming straight for me and the others making our way to the trees. My heart was pounding. Like many battles, this would either lead my team to a brutal end or a very satisfying victory. There was no doubt that we would incur substantial losses either way. This particular encounter really had my blood pumping because it was so sudden and my tactics were little more than a gamble. Even though the enemy seemed to be falling for it so far, a lot of our success depended on the other half of our army’s timing. They would have a small window to figure out what the enemy was doing and climb back up the hill to meet them before they were too far out of reach of their arrows. If our guys were to appear too late, the Hittites would have to take time to catch up to us, and many of us would likely already be dead.
If they appeared too soon, the enemy would see them with enough time to turn around and lay a heavy hand on their numbers while my crew hurried over to meet them from the trees. The latter was still a reasonable flanking scenario, but it would likely give the enemy enough time to reach the top of the hill and gain numerous advantages.
We had all made it into the line of trees and turned to face the enemy as they approached. I ordered my men to spread out as widely as they could so that we could make the best use of our ranged weapons from under cover. Every so often, I would glance to the hill in search of a horseman prematurely peeking over to check up on the enemy’s movements. So far, no one had checked, and I breathed a sigh of relief that our plan had not yet been exposed. There were still a hundred ways that it could go wrong.
Caria was by my side. She had been there the whole way and through the brief but important deliberations that had brought us to our current course of action. She had said very little since we left the city, and I wondered what was going through her mind then. As the situation stood, we had nothing
left to do but wait for a few more minutes, so I turned to her.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
“I am afraid that I might die here.” I could hear her throat tightening as she spoke and was sure that she was fighting back tears. Among her, Hecuba, and Helen, it had been a day full of the threat of tears.
“No one would blame you if you went to seek safety, Caria.”
She shook her head. “No, Troy. I want to be here by your side.” She looked me squarely in the eyes and said, “I am forever grateful for your kindness, and I owe you my life.” She sniffled, but still no tears broke free. “As a prisoner aboard that cursed ship, I was not truly living. I had considered ending my life a hundred times over just to be through with it all. Being that evil man’s slave was the most shameful situation I could find myself in, and I am sure that if you had not come along, I would have gone through with relieving myself of that shame before the year had ended. You saved my life, Troy, and it is now to do with as you please. I owe it to you, yet I offer it to you freely, knowing that it is my decision to make.”
I digested her words. She granted her trust to me so quickly. Under the circumstances, I was kind of able to understand where she was coming from, but that did not stop the pangs of guilt. Trust like hers was a heavy burden to bear, given her history. I only hoped that her trust was not misplaced.
I looked around at my men, all devoted to our cause. Their faces were etched in seriousness, betraying nothing in their minds except for pure dedication to the battle before us. Surely, thoughts of death plagued their minds, even though their expressions were lacking in such fear. I thought back to some of my first encounters with the King. He was always one to talk of how big a part morale played in warfare. It was times such as this that I prayed he was misguided. There was no doubt that the general feeling was one of hopelessness, and if the men’s feelings played a substantial role in the battle, then the fight was already lost for us.
I gave Caria a long, hard look and said, “I hope I can make you proud of your decision.” Then I raised my hand as well as my voice to address all my men, saying, “Archers!”
At least 100 pairs of arms drew their bows and made ready to fire as the Hittites drew near. The enemy quickened their approach upon seeing this, to which I responded, “Fire!”
The bolts flew loose, many burrowing deep inside the bodies of enemy soldiers. They did not balk, only charging forward with more determination than before. My eyes constantly flicked from the field to the hill, hoping to see my men come galloping over it at any second.
“Fire! Fire at will!” I shouted.
Wave after wave of arrows shot forth, their targets dropping like the flies they were. It was as good of an initiation we could have hoped for, but it had little impact on their numbers. If I had to wager a guess, I would say we took care of a little shy of one-tenth of their forces, but even so, we were still vastly outmanned.
“Caria, I would rather you move to safety,” I insisted to my queen-to-be, not risking taking my eyes off the battlefield and the hill, my salvation, beyond.
“No, Troy. I ride with you.”
They were almost on us. I was prepared for the worst, knowing it would be complete pandemonium to fight among the trees but counting on it to be more difficult of an adjustment for our enemy to make. I had several men tie tripwires of rope at the forest entrance to further impede the enemy riders’ advance. Half of our ranks climbed down from their steeds to allow for more flexibility, carrying spears to stab any horsemen that made it through the initial wave of chaos. I expected a good number of their men to be there for the taking during the first couple minutes of head-to-head combat, but it would not have made much difference if the rest of our men did not come around to flank soon.
My eyes flicked from the field to the hills. The window was closing to get the most out of our flank. I had left too much to chance timing, not even thinking that we could signal when the time was right. I was not accustomed to signaling, so, although it was an embarrassing oversight, it was mine alone. I cursed my stupidity. During the war with the Greeks, I had never used a signal in any of my strategies. Truly, Artession planned a great deal of our final battle which relied on the kinship among the Thirian culture. Much of the planning had been out of my hands. Beads of sweat formed at my temples and forehead. We needed to do something fast. I needed to do something fast.
I looked to the man at my left, one of the guides who had rode alongside me on the front lines, the man who had expressed doubts over the outcome of the battle. Around his neck hung the instrument of our salvation, a horn that I had been oblivious to during my whole dispersal of the plan to two dozen eager pairs of ears. Not once the entire time did someone think to ask what we would do if we needed to urgently draw the other half of our battalion’s attention to us. Perhaps it was something the rest of them took for granted, assuming that of course we would give the signal when the time came to attack. I hoped now that it was all they were waiting for, and, if not, I hoped that it would deliver the message to them.
“Blow the horn!” I commanded.
“Sir!” The man jerked to attention, pulling himself away from the approaching onslaught.
His horn wailed out, and in the same instant I ordered my men to back away from the outermost line of trees to give the enemy space to trip over the traps we had set. Though the time of reckoning was almost upon us, I found my attention tiptoeing its way back to the hill.
They were twenty yards away, and still no allied riders were in sight. Ten yards away—a distance to be cleared in a second. My spearmen readied themselves, gripping their handles in anticipation, squatting down to brace themselves for impact. The first of the enemy broke through the line perimeter, and, as if to signal their arrival, a horn rang out on the other side of the hill. But it was not coming from the enemy. The rest of our men came storming over the hill in the next second. The enemy had already ridden too far out of arrow range of the hill, but my men did not balk as they sped down the grassy slopes, charging to engage them head-on.
The first enemy soldier to greet us, and the next twenty that followed him, stumbled over our traps. Our spearmen wasted no time in running them through. I winced at the sight as the next wave of horses burst through the tidal wave of chaos, several of their riders laying blades into the spearmen they crossed, and several more simply trampled in the stampede. I saw for a moment the enemy men at the tail end of the horde were distracted by the sudden appearance of 300 Trojans at their rear. Many of them broke off to stop their advance, some of them meeting their ends at the wrong side of an arrow mere seconds after realizing what was happening. That was the last I was able to watch before plunging headfirst into combat myself.
A man had fallen at my horse’s feet and was skewered by one of my allies on the ground. Not a second later came another behind him, leaping over his comrade’s corpse straight for me and my horse. I wondered if they had trained their horses for such maneuvers because his knew just where to put its feet to knock me and mine prone.
I rolled away, careful not to get crushed by the several sets of hooves dancing around me. I held my sword out, ready to give my adversary everything I had, but he had already moved on, apparently content to have dethroned me. There were shouts in all directions, but one in particular drew my attention to it—yet another uniformed Hittite charging straight for me.
In one move, I slid to the side and raised my sword to meet his as it came crashing down at the spot where my head was a moment prior. I followed up with a swipe, but he too had already moved on. Damn.
I turned in time for my face to almost meet the blade of another enemy. He proudly rode past with this shit-eating grin that I wanted to cleave from his face, but I only had time to sidestep again before he was able to separate my head from my shoulders. He was long out of my grasp before I regained my composure and readied my weapon to counter.
I roared my disgust, seeking a target.
Men from both teams we
re falling all around me. I glanced to make sure Caria was safe and found another of them charging her. I moved to intercept and managed to run my sword through his ribs before his blade could cut her. He wailed in pure agony and fell from his horse to my feet as I pulled my needle from him. Caria gave me a nod of thanks and rode on, eager to engage another. I said a quick prayer for her, knowing that it would be impossible to follow her around during the entire fight and make sure we both stayed alive.
Scores of enemies continued to pour in over the piles that had fallen for the rope trap. Many of those initial victims—the ones who had not been speared through—were trampled in the process. I did not take time to see what was going on beyond the edge of the woods as that was no longer my immediate concern.
I heard a rageful shout at my side and swung around to see a Hittite soldier coming at me. His approach caught me off guard because I had yet to notice one of them fighting off of his horse, and, for a moment, I confused him for one of my men.
He struck from overhead, and I raised my sword perpendicular to his, both of them crashing together with a force that made the bones of my arm vibrate. I strengthened my grip on the handle and swung back at him the moment his blade lowered. This time, he met mine from below, stopping my descent, but I followed up by thrusting my free hand into his stomach. His eyes bulged as the air fled from his lungs, and I ran my blade through his spine from over his hunched form. Blood dripped from his mouth, splattering at my feet. I let him fall and placed my foot on his back, holding him down while I yanked my sword free.
Another broke through the growing pile of fallen warriors and their steeds and was gunning straight for me. This time I was ready. He jabbed for my sternum, and I raised my blade, forcing his to slide right past. Before he was out of my reach, I grabbed him by the belt and yanked him from his horse. He yelped as he fell to the ground, his horse carrying on without him, either not noticing or not caring in its panicked fight for survival through all the sudden madness.
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