by Peter Tonkin
‘Convenient place to sort the matter out,’ said the second man, Arouraios, a slight rat-faced man with a high, whining voice. ‘Won’t have to go far to get rid of the body.’
My mind raced, to no effect, flapping like a frightened songbird in a cage. I couldn’t throw the lamp at them – my left arm didn’t work well enough for that. I couldn’t pull out my pretty new dagger because my right hand was still in my bag with the skull and the arrow-head. I couldn’t have run from them even if my legs worked properly because I was trapped against the stinking mound of rubbish. I couldn’t reason with them – couldn’t even beg for mercy – because I felt completely winded and my voice wouldn’t work. As though it was my final thought, Odysseus’ words popped into my head ‘You can’t be too careful…’ How true. A lesson I should have learned in Troy.
The massive boxer stepped forward right into the lamplight, a hint of a swagger in his movement. Framed against the shadows and the forest behind, he seemed like some sort of huge gilded statue. The blade of his dagger looked as long as a sword. I was about to close my eyes and accept my fate but I blinked instead. I blinked again. The forest shadows behind my would-be assassin attained form. Substance. Mass. Power. As silently sinister as a great shark closing on a drowning sailor, a huge black bear reared up immediately behind my attacker. His companion saw it and gasped, wide-eyed and wordless. Like me he observed what was happening in a kind of a dream. The bear’s long, tooth-lined snout topped the tall man’s head. Two huge black-furred arms closed around him until the dagger-long claws on the huge paws met, meshed. The enormous animal tightened its deadly hug. My attacker tried to gasp in his shock; to shout or scream in his abject horror but had no breath to do so. The rat of a companion took to his heels heading one way and I went the other way as fast as I could, dropping the lamp as I did so.
As I ran, over the heaving of my breath and the thunder of my heart I heard a strange, deep grunt and the sound of dead branches being snapped.
No doubt this was the sound that Nephele, priestess of Artemis, also made when all her ribs were crushed.
4 - The Second Corpse
i
I staggered blindly through the camp, gasping and choking like a drowning man, lucky not to trip over my weighty bag or any passing guy ropes to go crashing through the tent walls with which I was surrounded. As I ran, I found myself praying that my vision would clear before disaster overtook me. Despite the brightness of the waning moon, the time I had spent looking at the light cast by the lamp-flame deepened the darkness all around. I had almost nothing to guide me except the slope down which I was careering. There was no doubt in my mind that the massive, murderous pugilist was dead, but what if the bear which crushed him was hunting me next? And the rat-faced man, Arouraios, what if he overcame his fright and decided to finish his dead friend’s work? I glanced back over my shoulder at the thought, and sure enough, there was his slight but sinister figure flitting from shadow to shadow behind me like something escaped from the underworld. Because he looked like a rat, I had assumed he would be cowardly and only dangerous if cornered like a rat. Another lesson to be spun out of my captain’s observations about murderers who didn’t look like murderers.
My reasoning so far, such as it was, led on to more jumbled thoughts that came through my panicked mind in the sort of avalanche Poseidon causes from time to time when he shakes the earth. Had Captain Odysseus still been in the camp, I would have gone straight to his tent, calling for help. But disturbing Nestor or Diomedes in the small hours before dawn was simply out of the question, even in this extremity. The thought of Odysseus firmed up my decision as to what I should do, however. If I could not find safety in Odysseus’ tent or in those of the kings to whom he had passed responsibility for me during his absence, I could find it back aboard his ship, surrounded by those of his crew he had not taken as his escort on the road to Ithaka. Furthermore, I reasoned, as my panic intensified, Thalassa would be the safest place to hide from the murderous Arouraios, leave the tell-tale skull, the broken shank and the arrow; but only if I could find the ship amongst the hulls pulled up onto the beach and get aboard before my lethal little follower caught up with me. Acting captain Eurylocus was a good man to have beside you in a crisis: down-to-earth, practical and not too imaginative. He’d make sure I survived the night if I could get to him. Then I could go and find Diomedes or Nestor in the morning. In the mean-time, fear of my relentless pursuer lent my heels the wings of Hermes. I was running faster than at any time since my disastrous adventure on the dockside at Troy, even if my heaving chest was finding it hard to keep up.
These, then, were the thoughts and impressions that were tumbling through my mind when I collided with a dark figure which suddenly loomed out of the shadows too close in front of me to be avoided. Helplessly, I bounced off him onto a second man who appeared next to him, and went sprawling on the ground, certain that I had just run into Palamedes and Aias, the employers of the crushed giant and the deadly rat so close behind me. I hit the ground, winded, and closed my eyes, preparing to die.
But the voice that asked, with quiet amusement, ‘What have we here?’ contained no hint of a sneer, nor, blessedly, of a threat.
Neither did the second voice which answered, ‘It’s Odysseus’ rhapsode unless I’m very much mistaken!’ A gentle hand took me by my right shoulder and helped me to my feet. As I came up, my vision cleared at last. There was no sign of the hunter who had been so close behind me. Instead, I saw who I had actually run into. Even in the cold silver light of the setting moon, Achilles seemed somehow golden, with Patroclus his slightly dimmer shadow at his side.
‘Where are you off to at such speed?’ asked the young prince of Phthia.
‘Trying to escape an over-zealous worshipper of your excellent epic songs?’ suggested Patroclus.
‘Or an insensitive and tone-deaf critic, perhaps?’ added Achilles.
‘Bear,’ I gasped. ‘There was a bear…’
‘A bear! Are you sure?’ asked Patroclus. ‘I only saw a man, and couldn’t even be certain of him in amongst all those shadows. Anyway, he’s gone now; so’s the bear if there ever was one.’
‘Have you been wandering about up in the Groves of Artemis?’ asked Achilles. ‘Surely a bear would hardly dare to come this far out of the forest.’
‘No further than the rubbish tips, I’d guess,’ nodded Patroclus.
I took a deep breath to steady myself and gasped out to my two princely saviours what had just happened, and what I was planning to do in the immediate future as a consequence.
‘Thalassa,’ said Achilles. ‘A wise move and a safe haven – from both bears and rats. We can check up on corpses in the morning. You were wise to run away from the bear and I for one have no intention of running towards one in the dark. But your escape has led you somewhat astray. Had you not bumped into us you would have been amongst the black ships, explaining yourself to my guards. You have been running through the Myrmidon camp.’
***
The pre-dawn patrol to check up on their Myrmidon guards that Achilles and Patroclus were undertaking as part of their relentless search for military perfection took them along the beach a good part of the way to Thalassa so I was able to accompany them until they could send me safety onwards.
‘But you have no idea who was chasing you or why?’ asked Prince Achilles as we set out. ‘Only that this pursuer had not been attacked by the bear that killed his colleague and he was called Arouraios…’
‘Rat,’ said Patroclus. ‘More likely to be a nickname than anything a father would call his son. But you felt that Rat and his big friend were waiting for you? Waiting for you to come and look at the carcase of the dead deer?’
‘I think so, yes.’
‘So someone at the feast must have seen the careful look you gave the carcase as you went past it on your way to your rhapsode’s stool,’ said Patroclus, who had clearly seen just that himself. ‘Someone who knew what deer in fact it was – and that you h
ad been called with Odysseus to discover the name of the man who killed it.’
‘Someone astute enough to calculate that you might want to give it a closer inspection in private later on,’ added Achilles. ‘And to take action accordingly.’
‘But someone who had neither the time or the opportunity to make sure the carcase simply vanished,’ said Patroclus. ‘Someone who therefore sent his two would-be murderers to guard the offal and be ready to kill anyone who got too close to it; in the expectation that if anyone did turn up, it would be you. A very effective trap, when all’s said and done, though I’m not quite certain how the murderers were supposed to recognise you. It’s unlikely that they were at the High King’s feast, so…’
‘But almost anybody could order a couple of soldiers to guard a rubbish pile,’ I said, hesitant to believe that I was actually important enough to warrant such a lethal scheme. ‘And there are fifty thousand of them here, all expecting to be cutting throats before long. So finding a couple happy to cut my throat wouldn’t be much of a problem.’
‘Almost anybody could send the two soldiers, true; however, only someone at Agamemnon’s feast would have seen you giving those ribs a second look,’ said Patroclus. Then he shrugged, dismissing his concerns, for the time-being at least. ‘But that doesn’t get us much further I’m afraid. Twenty or more royal suspects, a physician and a soothsayer, unless the steward, the cook or any of the servants beside the fire had the power and authority to take such action. So, come on then, young man, fill us in on the full details of the affair so far – let’s see if that will help us narrow the list of suspects down.’
As we walked from watch-fire to watch-fire checking on the guards, I revealed all the details that Odysseus and I had uncovered, and what the cunning King of Ithaka had reasoned from them.
‘But you still have no idea who actually fired the fatal arrow?’ asked Achilles when I was finished.
‘It looks as though the guilty man must either be Palamedes or Aias,’ I said. ‘There seems to be no doubt that they delivered the carcase to Agamemnon’s steward to be prepared for the feast because he told me they did and he had no reason that I can see to lie. Nor is there any doubt that the carcase they delivered was the one which died alongside the young priestess. The arrow King Odysseus found fits the damage to the ribs, at least one of its forelegs was badly broken as though by a fall from a good height and the skull proves that the antlers were gilded, though they’re missing now.’
‘That certainly sounds convincing,’ nodded Achilles.
‘And yet Odysseus and this retired hunter Ikaros were certain only one man was responsible?’ probed Patroclus.
‘Yes, Highness. There was only one set of hoofprints, one set of footprints and one arrow,’ I answered. ‘At least only one arrow was found. The dead stag was pulled up into the air and lowered onto the horse in a manner suggesting one man did it, and one set of footprints led the hoofprints of one laden horse away from the clearing where the stag was killed. All the evidence seems to point that way.’
‘Again, that seems convincing enough,’ allowed Achilles.
‘So,’ said Patroclus, ‘why in the names of all the gods would Palamedes and Aias get involved if they weren’t responsible for killing the deer or the girl? Why risk the wrath of the Goddess and the terrible retribution the High Priestess and the Oracle both say Artemis is demanding?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Achilles, ‘Because neither Palamedes nor Aias has any children. Not even Artemis can make them sacrifice someone who does not exist.’
ii
I stopped, as though struck by one of Zeus’ thunderbolts. I had simply not thought of that and I wondered whether Odysseus had. ‘But what does that tell us?’ I wondered.
‘It tells us that whoever killed the girl and the deer knows what the demand of the Goddess in retribution is,’ said Achilles. ‘Why else choose childless helpers?’
‘The whole camp knows that the High Priestess says the Goddess is demanding a life for a life before she will allow us to set sail for Troy,’ said Patroclus. His teeth flashed in the shadows as he gave a wry smile. ‘I think someone must have told King Nestor. That’s all it would take…’
‘But,’ said Achilles more seriously, ‘if Palamedes and Aias gave the carcase to the steward back when the stormy weather began, then there’s no guarantee that they knew of the Goddess’ judgement. Not that long ago.’
‘But,’ I speculated. ‘What if it was handed over a day or so later?’ I racked my brain trying to calculate how long after the priestess’ disappearance her body had been found and how long after the murder, therefore, the High Priestess visited her parents, confronted the High King, learned that the body had been found and requested Odysseus’ help. For that would have been when the details of the Goddess’ curse began to get out.
‘But did whoever killed the deer and the priestess know so soon after the act?’ wondered Patroclus, breaking into my calculations. ‘Did they pass the dead deer on simply hoping to avoid trouble over the young woman’s accidental killing – or were they already suspicious and being careful, therefore, to pass it on to two of the few men who could not be touched by the Goddess’ curse?’
‘And that,’ said Achilles, ‘is leaving aside the second part of the Goddess’s warning – that none of us are ever going to get to Troy until the appropriate sacrifice is made. Not now and not any time in the future. Even the Myrmidons are getting restless as the full impact of that is beginning to dawn on them, especially as the coincidence of all this bad weather is making the superstitious amongst them believe that Artemis is really carrying out the threat the High Priestess and her Oracle say she’s made.’
‘Only the gods know what it must be doing to the sons of Atreus,’ said Patroclus. ‘They’re both pretty superstitious, so they’ll probably half-believe the hand of the Goddess is behind this unseasonal calm so soon after contrary winds and storms. One of them won’t get his wife Helen back until this is all sorted out while the other has staked his reputation and fortune on rescuing her for him and destroying the city where she’s being held. To the financial benefit of every man here, King, Prince, General, soldier and servant. If they are starting to believe in the curse, then they’re both staring ridicule and ruin in the face. Neither would stay enthroned for long after a disappointment like that. Or alive, for that matter.’ He paused. ‘But I still can’t see why Palamedes and Aias have allowed themselves to get caught up in this. They have nothing to lose if we all have to pack up and go home – though, fair enough, they have a certain amount to gain if we all sail soon and Troy falls as quickly as Agamemnon hopes it will.’
‘We should go and ask them,’ said Achilles.
‘I was going to ask King Diomedes to do that in the morning,’ I said.
‘Hmm,’ said Achilles. ‘That’s a good plan. Perhaps we can leave it to them. We have quite enough to do keeping the Myrmidons sharp and stopping them starting to fight each other and the other armies. For instance, there’s bad blood brewing between them and King Menestheus’ Athenians for some reason I haven’t discovered yet.’ He fell silent for an instant, then continued, ‘There’s Thalassa, lad. Off you go then.’
So off I went, thinking Yes, it was a good plan. But as things turned out it was a plan doomed to be overtaken by events.
The quickest way from Thalassa to King Diomedes’ tent ran past Odysseus’ empty accommodation. I was hurrying along this route later that morning, laden with what I had discovered last night, full of plans and suggestions, when a familiar figure stepped out from behind the Captain’s bivouac right into my path. ‘Ikaros,’ I said as I recognised the retired hunter and servant of Artemis. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Looking for King Odysseus,’ said Ikaros. ‘But I hear he’s gone home to Ithaka.’
‘Only for a while,’ I answered. ‘He’ll be back in a few days.’
‘Too late,’ said the wiry hunter. ‘The High Priestess wants him now.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘We’ve found another corpse,’ said Ikaros.
***
‘Another corpse?’ I repeated, stunned. ‘Where?’
‘Just inside the sacred groves, up by the side of the road to Thebes. It’s one of your people this time.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s no-one from the temple or from Aulis as far as we can fathom – but you’d be a good judge of that, being a local lad. He looks like some sort of messenger. Military; courtly maybe. There’s an arrow in his side and his throat’s been cut. Someone wanted to make absolutely certain he was dead by the look of it. High Priestess Karpathia is with your High King now. To be fair she would have been down to see him in any case to find out how the investigation into Nephele’s death is going. It’s been a good few days now. Have you heard anything in the meantime?’
‘Agamemnon handed it over to Prince Palamedes in Odysseus’ absence. Palamedes has recruited his friend Prince Aias to help him. I haven’t heard anything more than that.’
‘Karpathia won’t like that. She was impressed by Odysseus and you. As was I.’
‘Impressed by me? She hardly noticed me. It was all Odysseus and you. I was just stumbling along in your footsteps.’
‘She didn’t see it that way. I think she’d want me to take you to her. If she can’t have the master, maybe his man will do. We left the corpse precisely as we found it on the assumption Odysseus would want to see it before it was moved. Can you come with me now?’
I hesitated. ‘I was just on my way to see King Diomedes,’ I explained. ‘I discovered something last night I thought he should know about and I was going to ask him what to do about the man that the bear killed.’