He opened his mouth to ask and closed it again. Menelaos hadn’t moved except to clench his jaw tight, as though his teeth were making a barrier against … against what? Or whom?
Perhaps a joke would set Menelaos talking again. “Not that looking like my mother is a problem,” Odysseus said. “She’s extremely beautiful. Like me.”
Menelaos started. “Ah … er, yes.” He brightened. “Don’t worry. You’re not too ugly, apart from your nose. And your chin and your eyes. Lucky I can’t see your ears under all that red hair.” The smile wavered and went out. “You’re in good company, though – about your mother, I mean.” His sigh sounded more like a groan. “It seems that’s my problem too.”
Chapter Three
The reedy wail of an aulos drifted up like a swirl of wood smoke on the breeze. Muffled voices and the tramp of feet passed below them, heading up towards the great, pillared entranceway to the palace.
“The procession,” whispered Odysseus. “They’ve set off again. There was absolute pandemonium before.”
They sat listening till the noise died away.
Odysseus sized his new friend up. Some colour had returned to Menelaos’s face and his shoulders had relaxed a little. “Why shouldn’t you be like your mother?” he asked. “Has she done something wrong? Offended the gods?”
“I don’t know.” Menelaos sighed again. “Politics, or–”
“Politics? What kind of politics? What happened to her?”
Menelaos picked at a graze on his knee. “She … she died. They say. I don’t know, I was too young to–”
“Ask someone.”
“Nobody wants to talk about it and I … It doesn’t seem …”
Why was Menelaos so reluctant to find out? “Haven’t you any older brothers and sisters?” said Odysseus. “They’d tell you.”
“My father’s married my sister to a king he wants to be friendly with.” Menelaos glanced down at his hands.
“That’s a shame,” said Odysseus. “Do you miss her, your sister?”
“Yes. No – she used to order me round.”
“So does mine but she’s only seven. When she’s too annoying I sit on her. Any brothers?”
“One.” Menelaos flushed. “His name’s Agamemnon. He’s older than me, almost eighteen. He’s a wonderful hunter. They say he can throw a spear further than anyone. Have you met him yet?”
Odysseus shook his head. “We’ve not been here long.”
“You will, I’m sure.”
“Ask him about your mother then. He’s certain to remember.”
“He’s very busy.” Menelaos fiddled with the edge of his tunic. “I did try, once, but he … well, he became angry. Then he changed the subject. I can’t ask him again.” He sat up straighter. “That’s enough about me. Tell me how you climbed up here. We’re a good way off the ground.”
“They’re replastering the wall. I’ve been eyeing the ladders since we arrived.”
“So what did you do? Push the workmen off? Clamber over the top of them?”
“No. You’ve forgotten about the procession,” said Odysseus. “They all stopped work to watch it. Though I’d have managed anyway.”
“How?”
“Pretending I was a plasterer’s labourer. Simple.”
Menelaos snorted. “Pig’s withers.”
“I swear,” said Odysseus, grinning even wider than before, “they’d never have guessed. I disguised myself as a fisher boy last summer. I bribed the real one to hide just before they set sail, borrowed his clothes and copied his voice too. I was very convincing.”
“How long for?”
“Almost all the way to Sikelia. It was the boy’s first voyage and the crew weren’t sure what he looked like. Well, they didn’t want to turn back in case they missed the best of the tuna fishing.”
“You’re the king of Ithaka’s son,” said Menelaos, “and they kept sailing?”
“They found out who I wasn’t, but nothing else. I’m not a fool.”
“What about that red hair of yours?”
Odysseus’s grin grew wider, his grey-green eyes full of mischief. “I dyed it brown and wore a cap in case the dye washed out.”
“So how long were you away for?” asked Menelaos.
“Over a month in the end.”
“And your parents? What did they do? Stare at your empty place at the table for a month, saying ‘Goodness me, he’s late for dinner again’?”
“Hardly. It all unravelled quite fast once I’d gone. The fisher boy confessed the day after we left and my father sent out a warship to fetch me back. Fortunately, the fish were biting along the south coast of Sikelia last year, but the warship went north to search the usual fishing grounds. So they never found us.”
“Weren’t you in trouble when you did return?”
Odysseus laughed. “A little. But it was worth a beating, even the one my father gave me. On the way home I saw a whale.”
“What’s a whale?”
“It’s a fish the size of a ship.”
“Donkey’s nostrils.”
“No, truly, it can swallow a man and not even notice he’s inside. If you’d been down in the town this afternoon, you’d have seen something even stranger.”
Menelaos scratched his nose. “Surprise me.”
“A bird the size of a mule, with legs longer than yours.”
“And it has a lion’s head and can travel twenty stadia with every flap of its wings.”
Odysseus patted Menelaos on the head. “You’re learning fast. Except it has a head the size of my fist, a snake for a neck and no wings I could see. It can’t fly.”
“Then it’s not a bird. In fact, I don’t think it’s anything. You’ve invented it.”
“Then half Mykenai invented it as well. It escaped – you must have heard the noise – so the other half are sure to have seen it by now. Everyone except you.”
Menelaos groaned. “I’ll die of boredom long before I need a walking stick. The most exciting thing I’ve ever done was sew all the necks of the spare tunics closed. The embroidered ones they give to special guests.”
“Sew? Women’s work?” Odysseus adopted a shocked expression.
“It was my sister’s idea. I helped. And of course I was the one blamed.”
“My sister hasn’t learned how to play the innocent yet. She’s too busy trying to annoy everyone.”
“I could have strangled mine at the time,” said Menelaos. “Though, well, maybe I do miss her. Life is rather dull now she’s gone.”
“Yes.” Odysseus pondered, chin in hand. “By Kerberos. I’ve an idea. My father could ask King Atreus if we can meet. Officially. Then your father will remember you exist and he’ll decide you shouldn’t be living with the women any more. We’re sure to see each other again.”
Menelaos shook with silent laughter. “Oh, Olli,” he said at last, gasping for breath. “You really are from the country, aren’t you?” He wiped his eyes. “You have no idea how things are done here.”
“He’ll manage it, I swear. I’ll wager you my new dagger.”
“Excellent. I can’t wait to use it. Here, I’ll wager my bracelet.” Menelaos held his arm out, the gold flashing in the sun. “Shall I tell you how you’ll lose your dagger? Your father, um, La …”
“Laertes.”
“Sorry – I’m hopeless with names. Laertes. They won’t let him ask the High King. Not face to face. He’ll be steered off to talk to the proper person. A third secretary of something or other who’ll tell the second secretary who will forget all about it for a week. Then the whole process will start all over again. Finally, someone important enough will ask the Head of Internal Palace Affairs, who will veto the whole thing.” Menelaos made a cutting movement across his throat with the side of his hand. “Which won’t matter much because you will have returned to Ithaka months before.”
“On Ithaka it would take two sentences. ‘My boy would like to meet your son,’ my father would say. ‘How delightful,
’ your father would reply. ‘Will tomorrow suit?’”
“We’re not on Ithaka.”
Odysseus scratched his head. “If you’re right,” he said at last, “I’ll meet you up here again.” He grasped Menelaos’s hand. “I promise.”
“But when? How?”
“By the look of it, the plasterers have a few more days’ work, so the ladders will still be here. Not tomorrow – I suspect I’ll be in too much trouble over today. I tricked Father’s squire and neither of them will be too pleased about it. Let’s say the day after that. And you? Promise?”
“Promise.” Menelaos cocked his head as a strange cacophony erupted at the back of the palace. “What in Hades?”
“With luck it’s that strange bird again.”
They crept to the parapet and peered over the edge. The noise was coming closer, a wild mix of hisses and trumpeting snorts, shouts and pounding feet. Suddenly, the ostrich came galloping over the hill past the postern gate with a crowd of stablehands close behind. A knot of guards had charged down the path from the palace to block off its escape and it thundered through them, scattering bodies right and left, before charging at breakneck speed down the road towards the main gate.
“Holy Poseidon,” said Menelaos, his eyes shining. “What a sight. I confess, I hadn’t believed you.”
“I never make things up.” Odysseus waggled his eyebrows up and down. “I never tell lies either. Now, this might be a good time for me to leave, while everyone’s distracted.” He clambered over the parapet and lowered himself down on his hands, feeling for the ladder with his feet. “The day after tomorrow,” he said, grinning up at Menelaos. “Don’t forget.”
“Never.”
Odysseus clung on with one hand while he groped for the top rung with the other. Where was it? Ah, there. No problem at all. With hands and feet safely in position he glanced up at Menelaos’s anxious face, silhouetted against the sky. Would this strange new friend, with his shaved head, his quick laugh and his worried eyes, keep the bet?
Only time would tell. Trying to ignore the sway of the flimsy ladder and keeping his eyes averted from the bone-breaking drop below, Odysseus scrambled as fast as he could to the ground.
Chapter Four
Menelaos peered over the rim of the light well into the darkness below, his eyes still too dazzled by the sunlight to make anything out. But all he had to do was lower himself back over the edge more or less where he was and he’d find the upturned jars somewhere below him. He could shuffle along if he wasn’t in quite the right place to start with.
He clambered over the edge. Dangling by his hands, he stared down between his legs into the gloom.
Strange. The jars weren’t there. Some over-tidy slave must have moved them. What now? It was a long way down to the altar itself but if he landed well enough, he could be off and out of the room before the women woke up from their afternoon sleep and came running to see what the problem was.
He let go and landed with a crash. Someone grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms. He struggled, half-breaking free before his assailant rolled him face down onto the floor.
“You wicked, wicked boy.”
Heifers’ hooves! Nurse. Lately, he’d found he could outwit or outrun her, but this time she’d well and truly caught him.
She wrenched his arms up his back with practised ease. “You young wretch. I’ve never known a boy so full of downright mischief. You’ll break my heart with your carryings on. What will become of you, I scarce dare to think.” She let go of an arm to grab an ear. “Up with you. You’re a disgrace.”
He struggled to his feet. “Sorry, Nurse,” he mumbled, trying not to wince.
“Sorry? Sorry for desecrating the sacred altar? Sorry for sullying the holy vessels? Sorry for gallivanting around on the roof when you’re supposed to be having a nice healthy nap? Sorry for giving me such a burden of worry? I’ll sorry you, my boy. I’m going to thrash you till you see sense or stars or both.”
The threat didn’t trouble him. Nurse was a big woman but her right arm didn’t feel as heavy as it used to.
“And you can wipe that silly grin off your face.”
“Sorry, Nurse. I always enjoy your thrashings.”
“Not this one you won’t. You won’t know whether to stand, sit or lie down when I’ve finished with you. And I’ll not be letting you out of my sight, not again, not ever. You just can’t be trusted.”
Now he had something to worry about. Last time he’d been punished like this she’d kept so close a watch, she’d even spied on him in the privy. Not without reason. The time before that, he’d escaped over the privy wall while she stood outside.
And this time she probably wouldn’t relax her vigilance for days, weeks even.
His heart sank. Even if Olli were twice as bright as he clearly thought he was, he was certain to lose the wager. How could Olli’s father possibly change the way things were?
The only hope they had of meeting again was up on the roof. In two days’ time. And how in Hades was he going to manage that?
Chapter Five
Eurybates stood outside the guest room door rehearsing what he should say to Laertes.
“I’ve lost your son.” The bald truth. And then? “Give me another few days and I’m sure to find him?” Or “I’ve hunted everywhere, but I’m certain his body will turn up eventually?” Oh gods! Whatever he said, he must keep calm.
He took a deep breath, knocked, walked in and burst into tears.
“So you’re back,” growled Laertes. “Where by all the fiends have you been?”
“Oh,” said Eurybates, hiccupping and gulping. “It’s … it’s …”
“It’s what?”
“It’s Olli. He, he …” He buried his face in his hands.
“Odysseus. Kindly help Eurybates explain what happened.” Laertes rounded on the red-haired boy by the window.
“I told you, Father. We were forced apart in the crowd. I searched and searched but after a time I thought the best thing was to come back here.” Odysseus smiled at Eurybates.
Laertes grabbed Eurybates and shook him. “I told you to keep him with you at all times. He’s wilful. Irresponsible.” Another shake, enough to set teeth rattling. “This is Mykenai, not some local village.”
“It was chaos, sir. Everyone yelling and pushing and falling over.” Eurybates stared past Odysseus at the open window beyond, his jaw set.
“I’ve heard all I need, thank you,” said Laertes. “Though what those fools of Egyptians thought they were doing bringing such an absurd gift as an ostrich, I cannot begin to guess at. All the more reason for you to have kept your wits about you. Strip.” He picked up his horse whip. “How many lashes should a fool get for gross incompetence?”
“Two?” suggested Eurybates hopefully.
“Two?” Laertes swore under his breath. “Two for being a fool and two more for over-optimism.”
Eurybates struggled out of his tunic, the skin on his back already crawling in anticipation of the lash. That jibe about the ostrich was meant personally, though it was hardly his Egyptian grandmother’s fault, or his for that matter, that today’s trade embassy had created such mayhem. But he couldn’t expect Laertes to act with restraint – the king had every reason to be furious; indeed he hadn’t been in such a rage since Odysseus’s fishing escapade last year.
And there was Olli, leaning against the windowsill, his face unreadable. It was obvious he’d been up to something. That innocent-sounding explanation had rung very hollow. Was he really going to stand back while someone else took his punishment?
Laertes raised the whip and Eurybates braced himself, every nerve in his body screaming.
But here was Olli, running over to seize his father’s hand. “No, Father, stop,” he cried. “I lied. It was my fault; I ran away.” He’d gone very white under his tan. Was it possible he’d grown a conscience at last?
Laertes lowered the whip. “Did you now?” he said. “And what did you do then?”
“I, ah, I went exploring,” said Odysseus.
“Not looking for Eurybates?”
“No.”
“Where did you go?”
“Er …”
“Answer me.”
“Up on the roof.”
“Up one of the workmen’s ladders? Where I expressly told you not to go?”
“Yes.”
Laertes flung his arms wide. “And why did I not expect as much?”
Odysseus hung his head. “Sorry.”
“Sorry?” shouted Laertes. “Sorry? Of all the pathetic replies you could have given me, that has to be the worst. You clearly have no idea.” He strode across the room and back before handing the whip to Eurybates. “Here. He’ll take your punishment. Write it in stripes across his backside. Four, wasn’t it?”
Eurybates stared at the floor, his stomach sick. “I can’t, sir. He’s still a child.”
“Child? He’s fourteen – a boy on the brink of manhood who thinks he knows better than he does. He must learn about consequences before he kills himself or anyone else.”
Odysseus had already undressed and was standing a couple of paces away, back turned and feet a shoulder’s breadth apart. Eurybates stared at the boy’s naked buttocks and at the thin leather of the whip. At least he didn’t have to hit hard. Even so, he shut his eyes as the blow landed.
The next moment Laertes had wrenched the whip away and had lashed the floor, sending a piece of painted plaster ricocheting into the far corner. “By the gods,” he bellowed, “if you don’t hit him properly, I’ll do it myself. And I won’t stop till I’ve taken the flesh off his bones.” He handed the whip back, his face rigid with anger.
Eurybates gripped the handle and swallowed. There was nothing for it but to obey.
“Two. Three. Four,” Laertes shouted as the lash sliced a crisscross of vivid welts across Odysseus’s skin.
Murder at Mykenai Page 2