xix
pooh on the patio
Ellie Pascoe had brought her laptop down from the room she refused to call a study to the kitchen. This was so that she could keep one eye on a gently simmering pan of ratatouille and the other on Rosie who was playing in the back garden.
Ratatouille hardly needed an eye upon it, except that Ellie knew from experience that she was quite capable of forgetting all about it and redefining chargrilled vegetables. Rosie hardly needed an eye either, being totally absorbed with her two playmates, one (slightly worryingly) invisible, the other (very worryingly) not.
Despite these demands on her attention and her care, she was able to let some sort of third eye which might have been the bliss of solitude if that was a condition enjoyable by those with ratatouille and children to worry about, check the scrolling screen for the point she'd reached in her revisions. There it was. First mention of Odysseus. She began to read and was instantly geminated, one of her personae experientially present in her imagined universe, the other peering into it god-like through the window of her computer. This second was a right carping cow, always finding something new to worry about. Literally, something new in this case. How could she justify putting expressions with a modern ring in the mouth of an ancient Greek, except of course as an easy route to a cheap laugh? Here for instance in the stranger's reaction . . .
'Odysseus, you say. Now him I have heard of. Right slippery customer from all accounts. Buy a used boat off him and you'd soon have a wet arse. Well, it takes all sorts to make a world, eh ? So your lot lost this war then? That's always the way, there's got to be losers and winners. But I'm right glad you and your old father and these good-looking lads here all managed to come off safe and sound.'
That bit about buying a used boat bothered her slightly, with its clear reference forward to modern car salesmen. Did this make it unusably anachronistic? On the whole she thought not. The phrase might ring modern, but it wasn't really anachronistic either in content or in concept. The notion of sharp practice was as old as Homer himself. Wasn't there a bit in the Iliad where a Greek warrior spares one of the Trojans he recognizes as a distant relative, then as token of their kinship offers to exchange armour with him, a noble-seeming gesture until the poet wryly points out that the Greek's gear is a right load of old tin while the gullible Trojan's is all bronze and gold?
As to the objection that this didn't sound like the way an ancient Greek would speak, well, of course it didn't! For a start he'd be speaking in ancient Greek. And why that should have to be presented in some version of eighteenth-century poetic diction she couldn't see. It struck her as being as daft as those movies where foreigners allegedly speaking in their own tongue are made to speak English with a foreign accent.
Convinced by her own reasoning, she carried on.
'Thank you for your concern,' said Aeneas. 'But you still have not answered my first question. Why did you address your supplications to me and not to my father?'
The stranger leaned forward and spoke confidentially, as if he and the Prince were all alone.
'Well, lord, of course, you're dead right. In the normal way of things I'd have gone for the old gent. But in this case, he looked . . . if you'll pardon me for saying it, lord, but you did ask ... he looked so frail and weighed down, like he's been through a lot of bad stuff and it's all getting to be too much for him, and it didn't seem fair to add to his burden.'
'That was very considerate of you,' said Aeneas.
'Aye, mebbe it was. But I'll be honest, there were a bit of self-interest there too. What I mean is, it seemed to me that while a word from you might be enough to stop any of these good-looking lads of yours from skewering me, I wasn't so sure that they'd pay the same heed to your dad, not in the heat of the moment, I mean.'
Aeneas said softly, 'Be assured, any who didn't would rapidly suffer an equal fate.'
'Mebbe so. But a lot of good that would do me, lying there all stuck with spikes, like a hedgehog that's been hit by a chariot.'
The Prince nodded, as if accepting the argument.
'Now tell me your name and degree, of what family and fortune you come, from what region so remote that news of the great war at Troy hardly seems to have troubled you, and whether it is the vagaries of uncaring fortune or the just wrath of one of the great Olympians which have driven you in such a state of nakedness onto this inhospitable shore.'
The Greek took a deep breath, then he smiled and slowly opened his arms wide like a patriarch inviting a troop of grandchildren to his embrace, and where before he had spoken as if he and Aeneas were all alone, now his tone and manner included everyone present in his audience.
'Lord, my name is Nikos, and I was born on an island so small and out of the way nobody's heard of it save them as lives there, and they call it Orkhis because of its shape. My family are fishermen, not poor, not rich, 'cos them things are relative and as we're all fishermen on Orkhis and we take care of our own, poor or rich don't come into it.'
'No overlord then?' interposed Aeneas.
'Not on the island. Nowt there to warrant some great man like your lordship's self building a stronghold and creating a fiefdom. Yet it's hard in these troubled times to get by without the protection of belonging to someone or other, and we have long paid what humble tribute we can afford to Ithaca. Now here's an interesting thing, lord. According to our rude historians, King Laertes once visited the island himself many years ago, and our ruder gossips say that on that visit he took a real shine to my ma who was a right bonny lass by all accounts, and a bit of a flirt, and the next year after his visit, she gave my father a manchild, me, which is why though I'm named Nikos after my old dad, my mates down the taverna usually call me Nothos, signifying bastard.'
A ripple of amusement ran round the listeners.
'You do not mind this signification?' said Aeneas.
'Nay, lord, why should a man mind being told he's got noble blood in him? And besides, a lot of them as called me bastard have found out the hard way they were only telling the truth.'
Now the ripple of amusement turned into a wave of laughter.
Even Aeneas smiled as he said, 'So, Nothos, now we know who you are, and what you are, pray tell us how you come to be here?'
The fat man rolled his eyes piously upwards and said, 'By heavenly grace and your lordship's equally divine mercy. Three days past, I set out with my fellows to fish, but the buggers weren't running, and my mates soon headed off home, saying they might as well be sitting around playing with their wives by their own hearths as playing with themselves out here on the rocking sea. Me, though, I don't give up so easy. If the fish weren't here, they had to be elsewhere, so I let the wind and current take me further and further from our usual fishing grounds. Then it started getting dark, and the sea got right gurly, and I thought, Nothos, my lad, it's time you were home. Only which way was home? And any road, it made no matter, 'cos I didn't have choice of which way I would go. For there was a storm blowing up and no ordinary storm either. No, this was one of them storms the gods send when they've really got it in for some poor sod. Well, I knew it weren't me. I mean, what business would the gods have with a poor fisherman? No, it had to be someone a lot more important. Here, come to think of it, lord, could it have been you? You haven't been getting up old Poseidon's nose, have you? Or one of your followers, mebbe?'
'We try to give all the gods their due worship,' said Aeneas coldly. 'You, on the other hand, according to Captain Achates, were uttering fearsome blasphemies against the lord of the sea after you were cast up on the beach.'
Nothos looked abashed.
'Aye, well, mebbe I did get a bit carried away. But not without cause, lord. There was I, a poor fisherman going about my trade, and suddenly I'm in the middle of someone else's storm, being driven along God knows where, for the best part of three days, I reckon. Then finally my boat hits a rock and down it goes, and that's my living gone with it, you understand, just about everything I own in the world. Down deep,
I went, so deep I thought I'd be bound to run into the old bugger, and if I had, I tell you, I'd have been tempted to do more than shake a fist at him! But you're right, no use fighting with the gods, eh? And I must have done something to please one of them at least, for I didn't drown, but up I came again, and managed to stay afloat I can't tell how long, till finally I got cast up here on this land. For which I give thanks, and especially for falling into the hands of such a generous and noble lord as your good self, followed, as you 'd expect, by such a splendid bunch of fighting men.'
He finished and lowered his gaze, his body sagging as if with fatigue, but under his bushy eyebrows his keen eyes were regarding the Trojan shrewdly to see what effect his story had had.
'So,' said Aeneas. 'You have said much to make us pity you. On the other hand, though low and ignorant, there's no denying that you are one of our sworn foes.'
'Nay, lord, I'll admit to low and ignorant, but as for the other, here's one who'll deny it. I've sworn to nowt about you lot. I've never heard owt about you but good, nor do I wish you any harm, and I'll swear to that here and now, if you like. Great lords like yourself decide what lowly folk like me do and are. You say I'm your foe and that's got to be true. But if you say I'm your friend, why, that's just as true, isn't it?'
'It is not for me alone to judge you, fellow,' said Aeneas sternly. 'Where the fate of all is involved, a leader must also be a democrat. You know the word? It is one of yours.'
'Aye, I know it,' said Nothos unenthusiastically. 'Comes between horse thief and sheep-shagger back home.'
'Indeed? Such a primitive society yours must be. So, men, what do you say? Shall we show mercy here, or shall we make this one Greek pay for the crimes of all his fellows?'
‘I say, let's take him back up the headland and toss him back into the sea,' said Achates. 'There's something about him I don't like the look of.'
There was a loud murmur of agreement among the listening men which did not bode well for a democratic vote.
'Hey, come on,' protested the Greek to the captain. 'If you're going to start chucking folk off cliffs just for the way they look, I reckon I'll get a soft landing 'cos I'll be landing on thee!'
Some of the men laughed at this till Achates turned his craggy, unreadable face towards them.
'One for death,' said Aeneas. 'Anyone else? Palinurus?'
A slim young man stepped forward and said, 'Lord, even though I can now see the moon and the stars, I cannot look at my charts and tell exactly where we are. If this Greek has any knowledge of this island's location and of its waters, their reefs and rocks and channels and shallows, he could be of use to us.'
'Well, fisherman?' Nothos scratched his chin through the tangles of his beard, producing a sound like saw teeth digging into a forest oak.
‘I won't lie to you,' he said. 'I've not been to this place afore, but if it's where I think it is, I've heard tell of it from some of the old men back home, and you know how these old buggers go over the same thing again and again till you could just about join in with them. So yes, I reckon I could navigate you safe back to Orkhis or wherever you're bound for. If you've got ships safely harboured, that is?'
'That is for us to know,' said Aeneas before Palinurus could reply. 'Right, Greek, for the time being, we'll spare you . . . Why do you smile?'
'Nothing, lord. Except I were thinking, if I'd known this is how democracy works, I'd mebbe have joined long since.'
Their gazes met for a moment, then the Greek lowered his modestly and Aeneas continued, 'If you prove useful to us in this matter, then we will land you somewhere as close to this island of yours as our voyage takes us. If not, then perhaps we'll take another look at democracy. Now come with me. You must be in need of sleep after all your excitements.'
He stood up and led the way to the shelter by the boulder.
'Keep guard by the exit, Achates,' he said. 'And if he shows his head without permission, chop it off.'
Inside the pavilion, a pair of oil lamps burned and by their amber light, the Greek saw that the shelter was bigger than appeared from outside, as the huge boulder was hollow to a depth of ten or twelve feet. The furthermost part of it had been turned into a separate chamber by a curtain of heavy bearskin, which was drawn aside now to let the old man, Anchises, come out.
Before the curtain fell again, Nothos glimpsed a figure lying on a makeshift bed with a woman sitting beside him, bathing his head with water from a silver bowl.
'How is he?' asked Aeneas.
The old man shrugged. His tongue said nothing but his face showed despair.
'Go outside, Father,' urged the Prince gently. 'Take some food. I will join you shortly.'
With a glance of hatred at the Greek, Anchises obeyed.
'Don't think your old dad cares for me,' said Nothos.
'He has little reason to like Greeks,' said Aeneas. 'None of us has.'
'Just as well I didn't apply to him for mercy then, wasn't it?' said the Greek.
'Indeed. What he might have replied I cannot imagine,' said the Prince. 'It's a leader's job to dwell in the world of reality, and leave imaginings to other men. That way, when the gods speak, he may hear with a pure ear. You on the other hand seem particularly blessed in that department.'
'Ears, you mean?'
'Imagination,' said Aeneas. 'In fact, you might like to try a little test. Would you object to a little test of your imagination, Nothos?'
'Nay, I dearly love a game of riddles to pass the time after supper, lord. Ask away.'
'Thank you,' said Aeneas.
He paused a moment, his narrow, fine-featured face still and serious in the amber lamplight, whose flickering flames made his deep-set eyes bright and shadowy by turn.
Then he leaned forward till his face was close to the other man's and said earnestly, 'Tell me then, what do you imagine the men out there would do to you if I went out and told them that I'd discovered you were the man they hated most in the whole world? If I told them that you were the treacherous and cunning bastard who gave Troy the gift of the wooden horse, what do you imagine they'd give to you, Odysseus?'
For a moment the big fat Greek's face was as unreadable as the Carpathian bear who on a mountain track surprised by, and surprising, a Magyar hunter, rears his great bulk high and stands quite still with only his small questing eyes betraying the inner debate between flight and attack.
Then he leaned forward and said confidentially to the waiting prince, ‘I don't suppose the answer's a big wet kiss, is it?'
God-like, Ellie smiled at her own joke. Castaway Ellie smiled too as she looked into and out of Odysseus's eyes on that remote island. Then the sound of a key turning in the front door reunited both Ellies and made all smiles stop together.
Her reason reminded her that the lock had been changed first thing that morning but somehow its reassurance couldn't reach her stomach.
Then Pascoe's voice called, 'I'm home.'
Rosie heard it too and came rushing in from the garden, building up sufficient speed to take off and hit her father at solar plexus level as he came into the kitchen.
'Jesus,' he gasped, swinging her up high. 'You keep tackling like that, I'll get you a trial for the Bradford Bulls . . . what the hell is that?'
That was a noise like a rowing boat grounding on a shingle beach. It came from the small dog standing in the garden doorway, viewing Pascoe with the unmistakable message in its eyes, I can't make up my mind which part of you to bite first.
This is Tig,' said Rosie, sliding to the floor. 'He's come to live with us. Come and meet him. He's a bit shy.'
She took her father's hand and drew him towards the dog.
'Tig, this is my dad. He lives here too only he has to be out a lot.'
The dog stopped growling, advanced a step, sniffed at Pascoe's shoe, then turned to cock his leg. Ellie moved swiftly, scooping the animal up and dropping it over the threshold.
'He's really quite well house-trained,' she said.
'You mea
n like he's really shy?' said Pascoe, looking out at the dog which was still glowering at him.
'He'll be all right now he knows your smell,' said Rosie confidently.
'He's good at recognizing the hot sweat of terror, is he?' said Pascoe. 'Talking of smells . . .'
He sniffed.
Ellie said, 'Shit,' and dived for the cooker.
'Ah well,' she said. 'Chargrilled veg is all the thing. I'll pour us a drink.'
'Big ones. Tell me, is that beast what I think it is?'
Ellie nodded, signalling with her eyes that this might be a topic best left till Rosie went to bed.
But the girl said, 'Wieldy was looking after him but he couldn't keep him forever because Edwin doesn't really like dogs and anyway, Wieldy's like you, he's got to be away from home such a lot it wouldn't be fair. He used to belong to a little girl who had to go away like Zandra but Nina says she'd like me to help take care of him now.'
Zandra was her dead friend, Nina was her imaginary friend. Neither had been mentioned since the day they'd told her of Zandra's death.
Pascoe said carefully, 'Nina's come back, has she?'
Rosie sighed the exasperated sigh of one required to state the obvious and said, 'Yes, she had to come back to make sure that Tig was being taken care of, didn't she?'
'Of course. Sorry. Well, if Nina wants you to help take care of Tig, that's the end of the matter. Tig, you're most welcome.'
The dog regarded him with an expression an optimistic pacifist might have classified as neutral. Then Rosie ran past him down the garden and Tig went in pursuit, barking excitedly,
'Don't say anything till you've had your drink,' said Ellie, handing him a glass.
He downed it in one and said, 'So, do I need to murder Wield or buy him a bunch of flowers?'
'If you mean, were we ambushed? the answer's no. The dog did the choosing and when Wieldy saw the way the wind was blowing, he was as usual impeccable. No pressure, very sensitive to all aspects of the situation. Edwin, however, I would rate in this regard as extremely peccable. And as I ducked out early on to visit Daphne, I wasn't around to interpose my own body. So I suppose if anyone's pecced, it's me. Sorry.'
Dalziel 18 Arms and the Women Page 18