by Peter Tonkin
‘This must be what you hope the beach at Troy will be like,’ observed Hypatios by way of reply. ‘Comfortable camp, good food, wine; no real need for sizeable patrols…’
‘It’s not very likely that Priam, his sons, their army and their allies will allow us much peace or comfort,’ answered Odysseus easily. ‘No matter what sized patrols we send out.’
‘But surely it is High King Agamemnon’s plan to take such a massive army with him that the Trojans will simply cower behind their walls while he takes his time about besieging and destroying them. Maybe get his troops battle-ready by sacking a few of the lesser local cities. Get supplies and finances that way as well, rather than using up his own great wealth. No particular hurry.’
‘Oh, I don’t think he’s planning on taking much time,’ said Odysseus. ‘What does King Peleus think?’
‘Agamemnon’s planning on having the whole matter settled in months, just as I advised,’ interrupted Nestor, apparently oblivious to the fact that he had given Hypatios liberty to consider his answer to Odysseus’ carefully-timed question.
‘He’ll need a really impressive force to pull that off,’ said Hypatios, sceptically, answering Nestor rather than Odysseus; seeming to challenge the elderly king’s advice.
‘He has one!’ snapped Nestor. ‘Twenty Achaean kings have answered his call so far with more ready to join! He’s planning to fill a thousand ships before the full force sails.’
ii
‘A thousand ships full of the self-styled kings of tiny islands and miniscule kingdoms with their so-called armies! Half of them hoping for enough loot when they sack the city to keep them firmly on their thrones,’ observed Hypatios. ‘The other half scared of making Agamemnon their enemy and giving him an excuse to attack them next. It’s all about self-preservation in the end!’
‘Of course it’s not,’ huffed Nestor. ‘It’s about the honour of Achaea! We can’t allow some eastern princeling to kidnap the wife of an Achaean king and spirit her away to his harem. Why, if we did, none of our wives would be safe!’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Odysseus. ‘I can think of a good number of wives who would be perfectly safe. But I believe Lord Hypatios’ assessment is accurate enough – except for the fact that many of the worthy and powerful kings involved are not only nervous of making Agamemnon their enemy but also hopeful of carrying home a fortune in Trojan loot and a couple of ship-fulls of slaves, preferably from Priam’s harem. Sufficient to make their dynasties unassailable—in terms of both finance and succession. Especially with the High King and his heirs as their close friends and allies. Is that how King Peleus sees it, Lord Hypatios?’
‘Twenty kings,’ said Hypatios dismissively, looking at Nestor. ‘Filling a thousand ships with their men. It beggars belief, your majesties.’
‘More than twenty kings and princes—or their generals if the kings are too old to join in person,’ confirmed Odysseus reclaiming his attention then abruptly changing tack once more. ‘Though the precise numbers of soldiers and troop ships have yet to be determined. Did Ajax not tell you all about Agamemnon’s plans when he was in Phthia last week?’
‘Was it so obvious that he had visited us?’ asked Hypatios a little crestfallen. ‘The king and the queen wanted his visit kept secret.’
‘No doubt for excellent reasons of their own,’ nodded Odysseus. ‘But yes, I’m afraid it was obvious he had called in. But never mind. Didn’t he discuss with King Peleus and his council the nature of the force the High King is assembling?’
‘No. He was solely focused on finding his cousin Achilles. Once King Peleus and Queen Thetis convinced him that Achilles had left the court and no-one knew where he and Patroclus had gone, he just decided to move on—he enjoyed the military display first, just as you did, and promised to report to the High King that the Phthian army is in every regard a match for the Myrmidons. He seemed quite limited, frankly; not very flexible.’
‘Ajax’ strengths are muscular rather than mental,’ agreed Odysseus. ‘Where did he plan to go to next? Do you know?’
‘He had a kind of a list in mind that the High King had apparently talked over with him before sending him on his mission. After Phthia he was off to Skyros, or so he said.’
‘Perhaps we’ll catch up with him there,’ said Odysseus. ‘He’s always been a bad sailor and a slow traveller. I’d be surprised if King Peleus’ mission didn’t overtake him. Or Queen Thetis for that matter—did you say that she had gone to Skyros too?’ As Odysseus asked this seemingly innocent question, the cooks began to distribute the dinner. The first course was fish served on big fleshy leaves gathered from the undergrowth at the edge of the forest and eaten with our fingers.
‘I don’t believe the king said the queen had gone to Skyros,’ said Hypatios guardedly round a mouthful of mullet. ‘I’d guess that if she has even the faintest idea where Achilles might be then she’s probably gone in search of him. North to Mount Pelion on the off-chance he is with his old tutor Chiron. Mount Pelion is near the coast: ship is the quickest way to get there—and the most comfortable.’
‘Ah,’ said Odysseus. ‘I must have misunderstood. But neither the king nor the queen actually has any real idea where their son and his companion are. Is that the situation?’
Hypatios shook his head with every appearance of ignorance and regret. ‘Achilles and Patroclus often vanish for weeks at a time,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘Nobody has any real idea of where they go.’
‘Returning to Mount Pelion and Chiron for more advanced training in soldiering, hunting and healing does seem to be likely, especially if the young prince has got wind of Agamemnon’s plans.’ Odysseus, nodded as though that question at least was settled. A flicker went over the Phthian lord’s aristocratic face but I could not read any meaning into it. ‘Though he does seem to have chosen the most inconvenient time to disappear,’ concluded the captain, his tone so bland that it seemed clear to me that his suspicions had been aroused. ‘Still, as we’re bound south for Skyros ourselves now, I think we’ll only head north for Mount Pelion if we find no news there.’
***
Our attention was called away at that moment as the most succulent sections of the kids and young deer arrived on a shield lined with more of the forest’s undergrowth, walled with chunks of coarse bread, steaming and smoking like a citadel ablaze. The three aristocrats pulled out their daggers and fell-to. I moved nearer to the fire and grabbed the carcass of a lean hare which I could tear with my bare hands and eat off the bone. I could no longer hear the kings’ conversation over the roaring of the fire and the noise the crew was making as they ate and gossiped. But I was able to observe the captain’s patrol get up, wiping their hands, and head off into the shadows along the beach, followed by Lord Hypatios’ men. Unusually for me I accepted a goblet of wine with which to wash down my meal. It was probably lucky I had done so, because it cleared my throat if not my head; and it was a matter of only a few moments later that Nestor was calling for a song. I had brought my lyre with me and managed to keep it dry as I waded ashore. So I used the sand to get the fat off my fingers, cleared my throat and did my best to oblige.
‘An enemy now delights in the shield I threw away in my haste to retreat. I left it near a bush on the battlefield. It was perfectly good and protected me well. But at least I got myself safely out. Why should I care for my shield after all? Let it go. Some other time I'll find another one just as good.” So sang Phobos as he fled, fearful, from the bloody field that his father Ares the God of War had made…’
‘No danger of Nestor interrupting that one,’ said Odysseus quietly as I finished. ‘He doesn’t consort with cowards. He’d rather die than retreat and only associates with like-minded people. It’s amazing he’s managed to survive for as long has he has, now I come to think of it. Come along. I have to set the guards to keep watch for the night, especially as my patrol hasn’t reported back yet; and I could use some company.’
He fell into a pensive silence for a w
hile and gave me time to look around as best I could. There was a full moon on the rise and the beach at least was bright and clear. The forest was something else, though, clothing the nearby hillsides like the bristles on the shoulders of a great black boar. The boar, I thought idly, like the one which had given my captain that great scar up the outside of his left thigh.
‘It’s not very likely that any locals could assemble a force large enough to attack us by day or while we’re awake around the fires,’ he said, breaking into my thoughts as we walked the camp’s perimeter. ‘They’d need a hundred men or so to give us any serious trouble. But once we’re asleep, a far smaller force could do a great deal of damage, so we have to be careful.’
‘And we’ll need to be careful of Lord Hypatios and his men,’ I said. ‘I don’t trust him and they look worryingly murderous.’
‘Well observed,’ he chuckled. ‘Though I suspect that if Hypatios had any real designs on our lives he’d have brought murderers who looked less like murderers.’
‘How could a murderer look less like a murderer? He is what he is!’
‘That is what King Nestor would say. However, I believe that in some cases, and the most successful I suspect, the murderer is not what he appears to be. Don’t frown at me; I know it’s a new way of thinking for you. But allow me to elucidate. It seems to me that a murderer who looks like a murderer is at a disadvantage compared to a murder who looks like an innocent, harmless man.’
‘Would the gods permit such a creature to exist?’ I wondered.
‘Manifestly. The world is full of men and women who look like the essence of goodness while actually being the distillation of evil. You must never judge a man by his appearance. It is like the old stories of the gods. They are forever disguising themselves. Consider Leda. She thought she was embracing a swan but the swan was really Zeus in disguise having his avian way with her. And let’s not even think about poor Europa and her rampant bull! If the gods can mask their true nature when the desire takes them, so can we mortals, surely.’
Our discussion ended there as the patrol returned. ‘All well Elpenor?’ Odysseus asked.
‘No, Captain,’ said their leader. ‘There’s nothing that poses an immediate threat, but there is something I want to show you before we set sail in the morning.’
‘And that would be…?’ wondered Odysseus.
‘Another dead body.’
iii
Odysseus was up as soon as the sky began to brighten and the birds in the forest started their raucous dawn chorus. I woke as soon as he did. I crawled out of the tent I was sharing with Elpenor and a couple of other oarsmen and looked around. I had to steady the pounding of my heart—made worse by a sleepless night—by concentrating on my surroundings rather than on the prospect of viewing yet another mysterious corpse. It was obviously going to be a clear day. There were no clouds visible. If there was a north or north-westerly wind blowing it was not yet obvious to us in the wind-shadow of the hills and headlands to the north and west of us. The sun was also hidden behind the forested heights to the east of us. It seemed apt enough, given our mission, that we should be in the chilly shadow of the craggy island that had seemed so safe a haven last evening in the gentle warmth of that golden sunset.
As the rest of the camp was beginning to stir, Captain Odysseus, Elpenor and I set off along the icy beach towards the low southern headland which separated us from the outer bay. We had been walking silently for only a few minutes before Lord Hypatios and his attendants joined us. No-one seemed keen to talk so we marched silently round the curve of the bay as the day brightened, the sky began to attain the lightest blue colour, like the shell of a duck’s egg—or a swan’s. A cool wind gusted occasionally making the nearby leaves stir and whisper. The sand stayed cold and clammy, clinging to our feet like slime. After a while we came to the headland and climbed up off the beach onto a low slope with a clear path leading through the woodland to the outer bay. It wasn’t much of a climb. We soon reached the crest and began to clamber down. ‘This must have been tricky in the dark,’ said Odysseus.
‘We managed, Captain,’ said our guide. He gestured upwards. There was a wide gap in the foliage above our heads. ‘Full moon,’ he said. ‘We didn’t even need torches. Besides, torches would have given us away if there had been any enemies out there.’
‘So you didn’t get a close look at the dead man then?’
‘Close enough, Captain. We didn’t think it was worth you coming out to look at it in the dark and torches would have given you away just as they would have given us away.’
‘So you suspected a trap?’ asked Hypatios suddenly.
‘Hard to tell. You don’t come across a corpse every night on patrol. Could have been anything.’
‘You were probably wise,’ answered Hypatios.
The conversation was enough to take us down the slope and onto the beach of the outer bay. As soon as we stepped down onto the sand, Odysseus slowed, his eyes narrow. ‘Hmmmm,’ he said.
It was clear even to me that at least one vessel had overnighted here some days ago. There were fire pits, rocky butcher blocks thick with congealed blood. Bones and offal in two untidy piles lay scattered across the sand. The weather had been as clement here as it had been in Aulis and Phthia—mostly sun and wind: no rain. The outlines of a camp were still visible. Latrines had been dug and used but not filled in. As with ours, there was a section screened off to allow some privacy. Like the scattered offal and the butcher blocks, the latrines were thick with flies even this early on a cool morning. Footsteps led from the camp-site to the latrines and to the water’s edge in such numbers that the sand was beaten hard. Only one set led across the back of the site to the inland edge of the beach where the undergrowth arched over it like a great green wave waiting to break. We followed these slowly, Odysseus still looking right and left with rapt attention. ‘The body is obviously hidden…’
‘We think it was buried, though the grave was shallow. Dug by someone either weak or in a hurry—or maybe both.’
‘…so what attracted you to it in the dark?’
‘A couple of wild dogs. They were quarrelling over it and making a great deal of noise. We didn’t know what it was at first. When we went to investigate, we found the dogs tugging at it.’
Odysseus stopped at the spot that the double line of the patrol’s approaching and retreating footsteps stopped in a rough semi-circle and he looked around. The smell and the buzzing told us that the corpse was nearby but the captain clearly wanted to assess its surroundings before he came to grips with the carcass itself.
Elpenor interrupted his captain’s thoughts. ‘It was out on the sand just here,’ he said. ‘Head and shoulders clear of the bushes, feet still in the undergrowth where the actual grave is. If you can call it a grave. The dogs must have pulled it back in after we left.’
‘I see,’ said Odysseus. But none of you went down to the water’s edge? You all gathered round the corpse, examined it as best you could in the moonlight and came back to report to me and to Lord Hypatios?’
‘Yes, Captain.’
‘Right. Let’s have a look, then.’
We all gathered round and pulled the bushes back to reveal the corpse of a young man lying on its back, wide eyes filled with sand, staring at the sky. The mouth gaped, apparently in shock, also packed with sand, the lower jaw not quite low enough for the beardless chin to cover the great gaping wound where the throat had been cut. Unlike the corpse of Dion the rhapsode, this one was covered in blood. The front of a sturdy tunic was black with it beneath a carapace of ants and flies almost thick enough to pass for a Myrmidon’s breastplate. The dogs that had been tugging the corpse about had left deep toothmarks on both arms and started eating the forearm of the right, but other than that they had not done any serious damage. The face at least seemed untouched. As I strove to take it all in, I was shouldered aside. Lord Hypatios crouched over the corpse for an instant and then straightened slowly. ‘I know this boy,’ he sa
id.
‘Really?’ asked Odysseus in surprise. ‘Who is he?’
‘The apprentice! He’s Dion the rhapsode’s apprentice!’
***
‘The murdered rhapsode had an apprentice? And no-one thought to mention the fact?’ said Odysseus incredulously.
‘Of course not!’ snapped Hypatios. ‘A mere apprentice! A boy of no account! Why should anyone mention someone of absolutely no importance like an apprentice rhapsode?’ His haughty gaze rested on me for an instant and I felt my cheeks flame.
‘Well, someone thought he was important!’ Odysseus snapped back. ‘Important enough to murder at any rate!’
There was a thunderous silence. I was fearful of breaking it and calling the wrath of either or both down on my head. But I had to know. ‘Do you think that whoever murdered Dion murdered his apprentice as well?’ I quavered.
‘I would guess so,’ answered Odysseus more calmly. ‘At first glance it would seem that any other explanation is stretching coincidence past its natural limits.’ He sighed. ‘But “guess” is a word I abhor. Let’s see whether we can find more clues both here, at the campsite and on the body itself shall we? Then perhaps we can at least move from “I guess” to “I suppose” in the faint hope we will ever get as far as “logic suggests” and “these facts prove”…’
‘All this fuss over a no-account boy,’ sneered Hypatios.
‘It may be, my Lord,’ grated Odysseus, ‘that his true importance lies not in himself but in what he can tell us of larger and more dangerous matters. If you do not wish to wait, I won’t detain you but I would ask you to warn King Nestor that we will not be setting sail for a little while yet.’
‘As you wish,’ sniffed Hypatios. ‘As long as we leave in time to reach Skyros before nightfall!’
I watched the Phthian lord stalk back across the beach with his attendants close behind. My captain did not—he had already returned to his examination of the dead boy and his surroundings. As he looked down, he suddenly started speaking in a low voice. ‘Pay no attention to Lord Hypatios,’ he said. ‘You will meet many such men and you should take no notice at all of their pride and prejudice.’