Troy: Shield of Thunder, page 39
The nurse had called him a hero. At any other time that would have been pleasant. It was good to be considered a hero, especially in the comfort of a drinking hall, with wine flowing. After the rescue of Andromache, he and Kalliades had been lauded throughout the city. It was months before Banokles had been asked to pay for a drink or a meal.
Banokles didn't know much, but he did know that in times of war heroes were usually idiots. More important, they also died young. Banokles had no intention of dying at any time. No, he decided, the children and their nurse had to be left behind. It would be uncomfortable, though, telling the old woman. Then a bright thought occurred to him. Perhaps the riders could slip away quietly while she and the boys were sleeping.
Banokles swore softly as the face of Kalliades appeared in his mind. He knew Kalliades would never leave them, but then, Kalliades would come up with a brilliant plan to save the children, the nurse, all of his men-and probably the entire Trojan Horse.
Pulling off his helm, Banokles leaned back against the tree. May the gods bless you, dear, the nurse had said. A pox on blessings, he thought. Just give me a fast horse that doesn't stumble and a blade that doesn't break.
Olganos joined him at the tree line. Any sign of pursuit? he asked.
No.
Were being forced northwest, he added.
No other way to keep hidden, Banokles pointed out.
I know, but we can't keep heading this way.
Banokles nodded. Well cut back to the north when we've lost our pursuers.
We may not have time, Olganos said. Ursos will have reached the army by now, and the chances are they will head east, toward the pass at Kilkanos. You agree?
Banokles had no idea where they would head. He hadn't even remembered the name of the pass. Go on, he said.
We know there was an Idonoi army pursuing them. If we don't reach the pass soon, the chances are that the Idonoi will be there first. Then we will have an enemy behind us seeking the children and an army ahead of us pursuing Hektor.
You have a plan?
Yes, but you won't like it. We need to ride fast. We cannot do that unless we lose our pursuers. We need to move on alone-unencumbered.
You want to leave the children? Banokles asked, his mood lifting.
No, I don't want to. Listen to me, Banokles. I know you have the reputation of a great hero. You fought pirates to rescue a princess, and you fought off twenty men who were trying to kill Hektor's wife. But this situation is different. The truth is, Kalliros has fallen, Rhesos is dead, Thraki is lost. It no longer matters that the children are royal. They have no army, no leverage, and no value. All they can do is slow us down.
They will indeed-Banokles began, but Olganos cut him off.
I know what you are going to say. So let me say it first. Yes, they will slow us, but heroes do not abandon those in need. And yes, I feel bad about it. Olganos reddened. It is just that I am trying to think like a soldier, Banokles.
Nothing wrong with thinking like a soldier, Banokles told him.
Olganos swore and turned away. When he spoke again, his words were full of regret. Now you are just trying to make me feel better about my cowardice, he said. Then he sighed. Heroes Shouldn't be frightened of dying for what is right. I couldn't see that last night, when you risked your life for those children. I see it now, and I burn with shame. The young man looked Banokles in the eye. Forget what I said. I'll stand with you.
Banokles was lost for words. What in Hades was he talking about? Then he saw movement in the far distance, around the city. Your eyes are keener than mine, Olganos. Can you see men marching?
Olganos shaded his eyes with his hand. Yes, heading south, it looks like. That will take them down toward the coast.
Away from us, anyway, Banokles said.
For a while. If they turn east, They'll cut across Hektor's line of march and catch the army as it comes down from the mountains. We need to get to Hektor and warn him.
I agree, Banokles said. How many would you say are in that army?
Hard to judge. They are still leaving. Five, perhaps six thousand.
The Trojan Horse can beat that many without breaking a sweat, Banokles said.
Are you not forgetting Ismaros?
What about it? snapped Banokles, who had indeed forgotten the port city.
Odysseus has taken it, which means there will be another army on the coast. If they link with this one, there could be twice as many foes.
Banokles fell silent. All those damned places were a mystery to him. Armies marching hither and yon, south, north, east, heading for areas he did not know and passes he could not remember. Ursos had done this to him on purpose. It was revenge for calling him General.
Keep watch on those slopes, he told Olganos, then walked back into the trees and down the short slope into the hollow where the group was camped. The old nurse was sitting apart from the soldiers, the boys close, little Obas in her lap and the taller Periklos beside her, his arm on her shoulder.
Banokles smiled at her, but she gazed at him suspiciously. The men gathered around him, their faces stern.
Black-bearded Ennion spoke first. Did Olganos speak to you about the problem? he asked.
Yes, he did. You want to add something?
we've been talking about it, Banokles. We want you to know we are with you.
With me?
Ennion looked uneasy. I know we joke with you and appear to mock, but we are all proud to fight alongside you. None of us would have rescued those children the way you did. And we all know how you attacked the assassins and saved the lady Andromache. We are none of us great warriors, but we are soldiers of the Horse. We won't let you down.
Banokles glanced at the other men. You want to keep the children with us?
Skorpios nodded, but Justinos rubbed his hand across his shaved head and looked doubtful. I have to say I think Olganos is right. We'll probably not make it with them. But yes, I am with you, Banokles. Well bring the children to Hektor or die trying.
It was like a bad dream. Banokles swung toward Kerio. The man's eyes were swollen and black, and there was dried blood on his nostrils. What do you say?
You don't need to worry about me, Kerio answered. I'll stand.
Olganos came running down the slope. Some twenty warriors, he said. And they are not far behind.
Banokles walked across to where the old nurse was sitting with the boys. Periklos stepped to meet him.
We will not leave her behind, the boy sternly said. Take Obas with you, and I will stay with Myrine.
No one is being left behind, boy, Banokles said sourly. Stay with the horses. If you see Idonoi coming down that slope, then ride like the wind. Turning back to his men, he called out, Fetch your bows!
Olganos moved alongside him. We're going to fight them all?
Banokles did not answer him but ran to his horse and grabbed his bow and quiver of arrows. Then the six warriors ran back up the slope and crept through the undergrowth to the edge of the tree line. Carefully Banokles eased back the branches of a thick bush and peered down the slope.
Some way below he saw a ragged group of Idonoi warriors moving out onto open ground. There were twenty-two of them. In the lead was a thin man in a cloak of faded yellow. He was following the tracks of the horses.
The slope was steep. Banokles gauged it at around three hundred paces. You see that little group of boulders on the hillside? he asked his men. Well hit them when they reach those rocks. If they're gutless, They'll break and run, and well fade back and ride on. If not, They'll charge, and we'll keep hitting them. When you see me drop my bow and lay into them, you follow hard. Now spread out. Not too far.
The five warriors eased their way back, then crept to better shooting positions.
Banokles felt calmer now. There were no more decisions to be made. Notching an arrow to his bow, he waited.
The twenty-two Idonoi were approaching the boulders. They were closely bunched and talking to one another, obviously not expecting an ambush. They would have seen the tracks and known there were only six horses. Outnumbered more than three to one, the Trojans would have to be fleeing before them.
The thin man in the yellow cloak moved past the boulders and glanced up. Banokles came to his feet and sent a shaft at him. It missed and slammed into the thigh of the warrior behind him. Five other arrows slashed into the advancing men. One warrior took two in the chest. Then a second volley hit the Idonoi. Again Banokles missed his target, the shaft striking a boulder and ricocheting up into the air. Seven of the attackers were down.
Banokles prayed the rest would turn and run.
They charged.
Drawing back on the bowstring, Banokles let fly. This time the arrow punched through the skull of a running warrior, who fell back, then rolled down the slope. Two more of the enemy fell to well-aimed shafts. The Idonoi were close now, no more than twenty paces from the tree line. Banokles shot one last arrow, dropped his bow, and drew his saber and short sword.
With a bellowing battle cry he surged out of the undergrowth and raced toward the twelve surviving warriors. A tall Idonoi with a painted face leaped at him, swinging a longsword. Banokles ducked under the blow, plunging his short sword into the man's chest, then hitting him with a savage head butt. As the warrior fell back, the sword tore clear of his body. Banokles lashed out at a second man, his saber slicing through the flesh of the warriors forearm.
Banokles saw Ennion and Kerio charge in, and two more Idonoi fell. Then a blow struck his helm, spinning it clear. Banokles swung around, half-dazed, and launched himself at his attacker. The two collided and hit the ground. Banokles scrambled up, then drove his saber into the man's skull. The blade stuck fast. Letting go of the hilt, Banokles spun around just in time to parry a thrust from a spearman. Grabbing the spear with his left hand, he dragged the man toward him and kicked the warrior's legs from under him. As the man fell, Banokles leaped on him, plunging the short sword into his neck. An Idonoi warrior loomed over him, sword raised. The man suddenly gasped, blood spraying from his throat. As the warrior slumped to the grass, Banokles saw the blond Skorpios behind him, his blood-smeared saber in his hand.
And then the remaining five Idonoi fled the battlefield. They were running so fast that two of them fell on the steep slope and lost their swords as they rolled down.
Banokles pushed himself to his feet. Olganos brought him his helm. Justinos called out to him, and Banokles saw that the warrior was kneeling beside the fallen Kerio. Banokles looked around for the other men. Ennion was sitting down. There was a long cut to his head, blood flowing over the left side of his face. Skorpios was moving around the battlefield, dispatching wounded Idonoi. Olganos had several cuts to his forearms and was bleeding freely.
Banokles walked over and knelt beside Kerio. The man was dead, his throat torn open.
Strip his armor, Banokles said.
Then he walked among the Idonoi dead. Two of them had been carrying packs. Banokles searched the first and found several loaves and some dried meat. His mood lifted. Tearing off a chunk of bread, he took a bite. It was flat-baked salt bread, which had always been a favorite of his. Putting the pack down, he opened the second.
Inside was more food and a small wax-stoppered amphora. Breaking the wax seal, he lifted it to his nostrils. The glorious scent of wine came to him. Banokles sighed. Olganos came alongside him.
Now, this, Banokles said, hefting the amphora and drinking deeply, was worth fighting for.
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE TEMPLE OF THE UNKNOWN
Helikaon stood at the stern of the Xanthos alongside Oniacus at the port steering oar. The long journey around the western coastline had been largely without incident. They had seen few ships, and those they had had been small trading vessels that had hugged the coastline and sped for land the moment the Dardanian fleet was sighted.
No war galleys, however, had patrolled the seas, and that worried Helikaon.
By now Agamemnon's fleets were huge, and the uneasy question remained: Where were they?
The rocky coastline of Argos was close off the port bow, and the fleet sailed on past small villages and ports, cutting toward the east and the islands southwest of Samothraki.
Toward dusk they spotted a high-prowed trading galley heading east. The ship made no effort to evade them, and Helikaon signaled two of his flanking galleys to intercept her. The trader complied, edging his vessel alongside the Xanthos.
Helikaon strode to the starboard rail and gazed down onto the decks of the trader. The rowers were sitting idle now, their oars drawn in. A fat-bellied merchant wearing voluminous robes of bright purple looked up at him. The man had long dark hair and a beard that had been curled with hot irons in the Hittite manner. We travel under the protection of the emperor and have no part in your wars, he called out.
Where are you headed? Helikaon asked him.
Through the Hellespont and home.
Come aboard and share a cup of wine with me, Helikaon said. A rope was lowered, and the chubby merchant heaved his way up to the taller ship, clambering over the rail red-faced and breathing hard. He gazed around with interest.
I have heard of the Xanthos, King Aeneas, he said. A very fine vessel.
My friends call me Helikaon, and I have always been a friend to those who serve the emperor.
The man bowed. I am Oniganthas. Last year I could have described myself as a rich merchant. These days poverty beckons. This war of yours is ruinous to trade.
Helikaon ordered wine brought and led Oniganthas to the high rear deck. The merchant sipped his wine, murmured appreciative comments concerning its quality, and then stood silently, his large dark eyes watching Helikaon.
Where has your voyage taken you? Helikaon asked.
From Athens along the coast and up to Thraki. No trade there any longer.
So you sailed down to Argos?
Oniganthas nodded. And sold my cargo at a small loss. These are not good days, Helikaon.
And what news did you carry to Argos?
News? I carried spices and perfumes.
Let us not play games, Oniganthas. You are a neutral vessel. Were I one of Agamemnon's generals or admirals, I would seek to use such a vessel to carry information. Have you been asked to perform such a service?
We must be wary here, Oniganthas said with a sly smile. Many people will talk on beaches or at ports, but as a neutral it would be ill advised of me to offer my services to one side or the other. That would make me an agent of one of the powers, and my neutrality would be forfeit.
Helikaon considered his words. On the surface the argument seemed reasonable enough, but neither Agamemnon nor his generals would respect the neutrality of a Hittite vessel unless it suited their purpose. The only way Oniganthas could sail safely through the war zone would be if he carried evidence of Mykene safe conduct. With trade so savagely disrupted, the Hittite merchant was probably supplementing his income by relaying messages to and from Mykene generals.
I can see, Helikaon said at last, that you are a man of subtlety.
The merchant drained his wine and handed the cup back to a waiting sailor. As all merchants must, I seek profit. There is no profit for me without neutrality. With it I am free to conduct business with any of the city-states or nations around the Great Green. Indeed, it has always been my hope to strengthen my dealings with Dardania.
And no reason why we should not, Helikaon said. I have been looking for a man of enterprise to hold some gold for me against such time when I might need that gold.
Helikaon saw the glint of greed in the man's eyes. How much gold are we speaking of, Helikaon?
Enough, were it to be used so, to build several trading galleys, and certainly enough to offset a poor trading season. Helikaon paused, watching the man and allowing the lure of the suggested bribe to work on him.
And this man would merely hold the gold for you? Oniganthas asked.
Helikaon smiled. Or perhaps make it grow to our joint advantage.
Ah, you seek a business alliance, then?
Indeed so. We should talk more of this. Perhaps you would stay with us for the night.
I would enjoy that, Oniganthas said, for I have been starved of intelligent company recently. Most of my nights have been spent listening to Mykene sailors and soldiers and-he looked into Helikaon's eyes-their endless talk of wars and victories and plans.
The fleet beached on a barren uninhabited island, and Helikaon, Oniganthas alongside him, watched as Oniacus and several of the sailors brought out items they had plundered during their raids. There were cups and goblets of gold inset with gems and heavy jewelry of Mykene design. Everything was laid on a blanket on the sand.
Oniganthas knelt to examine the pieces in the fading light. Exquisite, he said.
While the cookfires were being lit, Helikaon led Oniganthas away from the men, and they sat and talked until they were called to eat. Later, as the merchant slept, Helikaon walked away from the campsite and up to the crest of a high hill. What he had heard from Oniganthas was dispiriting.
Gershom and Oniacus joined him. Did you learn much from the merchant? Gershom asked.
I did, and little of it good. I need time to think. Let us walk awhile.
The island was rocky and inhospitable, but on a nearby hilltop someone had built a temple. Moonlight shone on its white columns.
I wonder who it is dedicated to, Oniacus said.
Helikaon did not care, but he strolled with the others to the deserted building. There were no statues around the perimeter and none inside. The dust of centuries lay on the stone-slabbed floor. Part of the roof had collapsed, allowing moonlight to shine through. They searched the building but found no carvings, no implements, no broken cups or lamps.
Helikaon knelt and brushed away the thick dust from a section of the floor. Beneath it was a deep curved line carved into the stone slabs. Gershom and Oniacus joined him, and together they scraped back the dust from adjoining slabs. The symbol they revealed covered the entire floor. There were two circles, the larger enclosing the smaller, and a diagonal line cutting through them both.
