[Troy 02] - Shield of Thunder

by David Gemmell

  Odysseus ran back along the deck and shot three more arrows from the stern. Only one scored a hit, slicing through the forearm of an archer. Odysseus took a deep breath, then loosed a fourth shaft.

  “Ha!” he cried triumphantly as the arrow took a man through the throat. “Come at the Penelope, will you?” he bellowed. “By Ares, you’ll regret it, you cowsons!” Several arrows flashed by him, but he stood statue-still, shooting back into the massed pirates. “A little more distance would be pleasant,” he yelled at Bias as another enemy arrow flew past his head.

  Now the men of the Penelope fully leaned on their oars, sweat streaming from them as they heaved and pulled. The ship picked up speed. Kalliades lifted his head above the stern rail and watched as the distance between the ships began to increase. He saw Odysseus shoot another pirate, the arrow lancing into the man’s face. Then the king changed the direction of his shafts, sending them over the heads of the bowmen and into the rowers. Two oars on the port side of the enemy vessel crashed together, and the pirate galley veered. The Penelope sped on.

  “Hey, donkey face!” Odysseus shouted. “Don’t give up now. Nothing worth having ever comes easy!”

  The second galley was closing fast. Bias altered course to keep the distance between them, but that allowed the first pirate vessel to move back into range.

  Odysseus swore softly. If they continued in this way, the men of the Penelope would exhaust themselves and the pirates would still catch them. He glanced at Bias.

  The black man understood this also. “Which one, my king?” he asked.

  “I think we need to kill donkey face,” Odysseus replied.

  Bias yelled out orders. The left bank of oars lifted from the water, the men on the right powering their oars at speed. The Penelope swung sharply. Meriones, carrying a powerful black bow, ran to join Odysseus.

  “Thought you might be bored,” the Ugly King said, “so I have decided to attack.”

  The black-garbed bowman chuckled. “Let us have a wager first.” He pointed to the first pirate ship. An archer had climbed to the prow rail and was waiting, arrow notched, ready to shoot as soon as they came into range. “A gold ring says I can knock him from his perch before you do.”

  “Agreed!” Odysseus said.

  Both men moved along the central deck to the prow, then drew back on their bows, letting fly together. Two shafts slammed into the chest of the enemy archer. His body crumpled, then tipped forward to plunge into the sea and vanish beneath the keel of the pirate vessel.

  Meriones continued to shoot as the distance closed between the ships. Odysseus left him there, running swiftly back to the rear deck. Handing his quiver and bow to Piria, he summoned Kalliades and Banokles to him.

  “Bias will swing the Penelope at the last moment, and we’ll try to shear away their starboard oars. Likely, though, that they’ll haul us to them with grappling hooks. When that happens, they’ll expect to board us. What they won’t expect, because of their greater numbers, is that we’ll board them.”

  Banokles glanced at the oncoming pirate galley. “Must be around sixty men on that ship.”

  “At least.”

  “And another sixty on the second ship.”

  “You have a point to make, or are you merely bragging about your ability to count?” Banokles fell silent. “Stay close to me,” said Odysseus. “I’m not as nimble as I used to be—and I wasn’t the greatest sword fighter then.”

  The Penelope swung hard to port as if seeking to avoid a collision, then, just as swiftly, moved back to starboard. The two vessels crashed together, but the angle of impact meant the ram on the pirate galley merely slid along the starboard side. The Penelope’s rowers tried to drag their oars back across the deck to prevent them from being splintered, but the collision had come so swiftly that only six of the fifteen oars were saved. Even greater damage was done to the pirate oars as the Penelope slid along the galley’s hull. Grappling hooks were hurled from the pirate vessel, biting into the Penelope’s rail.

  This close, Odysseus could see the faces of the pirates. Many of them were men who had cheered him the night before, begging him for more tales. They were garbed now for war, some in leather breastplates, others in makeshift shirts of thick knotted rope. There were helms of all kinds, some in the high, curved Phrygian style, some of wood, some of leather. Several of the men wore headgear crafted from copper. Most of them were carrying daggers, though many held clubs of wood.

  “Follow me,” Odysseus said. He glanced at Banokles and grinned. “If you have the balls for it.” Drawing his sword, he ran down to the central deck and hurled himself across the narrow gap and into the mass of fighting men on the pirate ship.

  He slammed into the first rank shoulder first, his weight scattering them. Several men fell heavily; others tried to make room to stab at him. Odysseus grabbed a man by his rope shirt, hauling him in to a savage head butt. Blood exploded from the man’s ruined nose. Odysseus hurled him aside, then slashed his sword in a wide arc. It struck a pirate in the forearm, slicing through flesh and spraying blood through the air.

  “Come at Odysseus, would you?” he raged, his sword hacking and slashing left and right. For a moment the pirates fell back from the fury of his assault. Then they surged at him. The huge form of Banokles clattered into them, spilling men to the deck. Then came Kalliades, his sword stabbing out like a serpent’s tongue, lancing into throats, chests, and bellies. “You are all dead men now!” Odysseus bellowed. A pirate darted at him, stabbing for the throat. Odysseus threw up his left arm, blocking the blow, hammering his sword against the pirate’s skull and shearing away his ear. The man screamed and fell back.

  Other warriors from the Penelope joined in the attack. Banokles shoulder charged a man, sending him flying. Odysseus continued to rage at the pirates, shouting battle cries and insults as he powered forward. Kalliades had forced his way to the right of Odysseus and was fighting defensively, protecting the Ugly King. Banokles was on the left. Even in the midst of the action Odysseus noted the skill they showed. The three had now formed a wedge with Odysseus as the point. At first they forced the pirates back, but then the weight of numbers began to tell, and the advance slowed.

  Odysseus was tiring, for he had fought with no economy of effort, slashing his sword about him with all his might. A pirate hurled himself at him, his club thudding against Odysseus’ leather breastplate. The king stumbled and fell back, hitting the deck hard. Kalliades turned swiftly, plunging his sword through the back of the pirate’s neck. The dead man fell across Odysseus. Kalliades took up a defensive position in front of Odysseus to block any further attacks. Odysseus pushed the dead man away from him and slowly climbed to his feet, sucking in great breaths. The noise of battle was all around him now, the deck slick with blood. His sword arm felt as if it were weighed down with rocks, but his strength was returning.

  “Make way, Kalliades!” he thundered. “Odysseus has more enemies to kill.”

  Then he hurled himself once more into the fray.

  Piria stood on the rear deck, the great bow forgotten in her hand. She saw Odysseus jump onto the pirate ship, followed by Banokles and Kalliades and a dozen men from the Penelope’s crew. Then Bias drew two fighting knives and climbed to the rail, leaping down to join the fight. The air was filled with battle cries and screams and the sound of swords clashing. The Kretan, Idomeneos, rushed to join them, as did the two sons of King Nestor. The fighting was fierce, and she saw Odysseus hacking and slashing his way toward the stern of the vessel, Kalliades and Banokles beside him.

  A hand touched her arm. Meriones pointed to port, where the second pirate vessel was closing. Notching an arrow to his bow, he sent the shaft winging across the narrowing gap. It struck the high prow. Meriones swore. “Don’t you be telling Odysseus about that shot,” he said.

  The remaining sailors on the Penelope were all armed with bows now and sent a ragged volley toward the oncoming vessel. Several arrows found their targets. Then came a fierce resp
onse. Some forty shafts slashed through the air. Many punched into the deck rail, others skidding across the deck itself. Five crewmen were hit. Piria notched a shaft to the great bow and let fly. The arrow slammed into the chest of an archer. He fell back.

  “Good shot,” Meriones cried, loosing a shaft. Piria did not see it strike home, for she was already drawing another arrow from the quiver and notching it to Akilina. All fear had gone now, and she continued to shoot, ignoring the shafts that hissed by her.

  Suddenly the pirate vessel veered sharply away. Enemy bowmen continued to shoot, but swiftly the ship moved out of range, heading south.

  “They are going to turn and ram us,” Meriones said grimly.

  But the galley did not turn. Its rowers were laboring hard to put distance between the two ships.

  The men on the Penelope dropped their bows, drew swords and knives, and ran to join their comrades fighting on the first pirate vessel. Piria turned to watch them and saw a massive ship coming from the north. It was bigger than any vessel she had ever seen: forty oars on either side, in two banks, and a mast as tall as a tree. From the mast a huge sail billowed, and upon it was painted a rearing black horse.

  “Ah, we are blessed today by all the gods,” Meriones said. “That is the Xanthos.”

  “It is… colossal,” Piria said.

  “Indeed it is—and the bane of all pirates. There are fire hurlers on the decks and a crew of more than a hundred fighting men. And for honest folk like us there is no better sight than that monster.”

  Moving to the starboard rail, Piria saw that the battle had turned. There were far fewer pirates now, but the fighting was still fierce. She looked for Kalliades but could not see him. Fear gripped her then, for she saw Banokles still battling alongside Odysseus. Then she caught sight of Kalliades, and relief flowed through her. He had been hidden by the mast. She watched him cut down an enemy, then force his way to stand beside Odysseus.

  Some of the pirates threw down their weapons, but there was no quarter, and they were hacked to death. Others threw themselves over the side and into the sea. An ugly man with an unnaturally long face screamed at Idomeneos and threw himself at the Kretan king. Before he could come close, he was knocked from his feet by Banokles. Swords plunged down into the man. Piria heard his gurgling death cries.

  And the battle was over.

  Odysseus sat slumped by the mast, exhausted, watching as the mighty Xanthos glided close by. A familiar voice called out. “Ho, Odysseus! Where are you, sea uncle?”

  Wearily he pushed himself to his feet and walked to the starboard rail and leaned upon it. Looking up, he saw a tall, wide-shouldered man with golden hair standing at the prow of the giant ship.

  “By the tits of Thetis,” he cried, “what fool put you in charge of a ship?”

  Hektor, prince of Troy, laughed. “Ah, that would be a mighty fool indeed. No, my friend, I am merely a passenger, albeit a passenger with a sword. Are you not a little old to be fighting pirates?”

  “Old? I am in my prime, you impudent wretch!”

  “I believe you, sea uncle. Looks like you’ll need a little help with that galley. I can loan you twenty men.”

  “They would be welcome, Hektor, my friend.”

  “We’ll maneuver alongside and send them down to you.”

  Odysseus called out his thanks and wandered back to the mast. His hands were trembling now, and he felt nauseous. Bias joined him, kneeling alongside.

  “How many did we lose?” Odysseus asked him.

  “Eight dead, eleven more with deep wounds, and almost everyone else has been cut or pierced save for me and Leukon. Even then, we got off lightly, Odysseus. What of you? You are covered in blood. Any of it your own?”

  Odysseus shook his head. “Who are the dead?”

  Bias named them, and a deep sorrow was added to the burden of weariness. Odysseus leaned his head back against the mast. All around him men were stripping the dead pirates and throwing their bodies over the side. The Xanthos eased alongside, throwing a deep shadow over the deck. Ropes were lowered, and twenty men shinnied down them.

  “Damn, but I never used to feel this tired after a battle,” Odysseus said. “Especially not after winning one.”

  “I know,” Bias said. “I feel it, too.”

  “You will not tell me we are getting older,” Odysseus warned him.

  Bias smiled. “No, Odysseus. Perhaps we are just getting wiser. The thought of all the men who were alive this morning and walking the Dark Road now is dispiriting. And what was achieved? We gained an old galley, a few weapons for trade, and maybe some plunder. None of it was worth the loss of those eight men. Especially young Demetrios.”

  Odysseus closed his eyes. “Go and give the new men tasks,” he told Bias. “Transfer any plunder to the Penelope.”

  “Yes, my king,” Bias said. “How do you want to proceed?”

  “Hektor’s men can maneuver the galley back to Titan’s Rock,” Odysseus said. “They can pick up the wounded we left behind. We will push on. With a favorable wind we can reach Apollo’s Bow by dusk, and if not we’ll beach at Humpback Bay.”

  Bright sunshine shone across the deck as the shadow of the Xanthos moved away. Odysseus heard Hektor call out to him.

  “We’re going after those pirates, Odysseus. Where are you bound?”

  “Apollo’s Bow,” Odysseus shouted as the huge ship glided on toward the south.

  Bias moved off to where the twenty new crew members were standing, and the Ugly King sat quietly, gazing down at his blood-covered arms and hands. The fingers had stopped trembling now, but he still felt sick. Young Demetrios had been a good lad, quiet, hardworking, and so proud to have been chosen to replace Portheos. The faces of the other dead men floated across his mind. He had sailed for close to twenty seasons with Abderos, the only man on the crew never to have taken a wife. During winter he lived alone, carving wood and making rope, rarely speaking to anyone. Once back aboard in the spring, he would grin widely and embrace his comrades. All he had was the Penelope. And now he had died to protect her.

  Wearily Odysseus climbed back to his ship.

  Banokles strolled over to him and squatted down. He, too, was blood-spattered, his face and beard bright with red spots and streaks.

  “I was wondering,” he said cheerfully, “if Kalliades and I could become Ithakans. For the games at Troy, I mean. After all, we can’t take part as Mykene.”

  Odysseus had no wish for conversation. His mind was still reeling from the loss of his comrades. But this man had saved his life several times that day, so he drew in a deep breath and considered the question. “What is your skill?” he asked at last.

  “I’m a fistfighter.”

  “And Kalliades?”

  “Swordsman.”

  “There are no sword events in the wedding games. Only the Mykene have death bouts.”

  “Ah. He’s also a fine runner.”

  “Leukon is our fistfighter, Banokles. And you may recall that the last time I saw you in a fistfight, you were lying on your back with your arms over your head.”

  “True,” Banokles said. “But there were five of your lads, and I told you I was only catching my breath.”

  Odysseus smiled. “There will be some great fighters in Troy. Truly great. I couldn’t enter a man who might shame Ithaka.”

  “I wouldn’t do that! I’m a terrific fighter.”

  “You are a great warrior, Banokles. I’ve seen that today. But fistfighting is different.”

  “I could beat Leukon,” Banokles said confidently.

  Odysseus looked into his eyes. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he said. “Tonight we will be having a funeral feast for our friends who died today. We will speak their praises and offer libations for their safe journey to the Elysian Fields. There are not enough men without wounds to stage any funeral games. But if Leukon agrees, you and he can fight in honor of the departed.”

  “Wonderful,” Banokles said happily. “And if I win,
we can be Ithakans in Troy?”

  “You can,” Odysseus said.

  He watched the big man amble away. More heart than sense, he thought. Glancing around the deck, he caught sight of Leukon and called him over. Swiftly he told the giant of Banokles’ request.

  Leukon shrugged. “You want me to fight him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I will.”

  “He says he can beat you.”

  Leukon stared across at Banokles. “His reach is shorter than mine, which means he’ll take more blows. He’s got a good neck, strong arms. Chin looks solid. He has the makings of a fighter. Yes, it will be good practice.”