The Arrow of Apollo, page 11
The Enemy grinned, and suddenly his face was no longer the same. He was a man, still, but his skin was scaled, as if some hidden snake part of him was coming to the surface, and his eyes were yellow with a black slit of a pupil. A flickering forked tongue appeared between his sharp white teeth.
‘My enemy’s weapon,’ he hissed. ‘Give it to me. The Oracle will be mine again. And I will reclaim my own!’ There was exultation in his voice, and now his whole body was stretching into a long, thin snake, curling powerfully, the size of a man, yet with human hands, one still grasping Elissa.
There were two forces tugging at Silvius. Perhaps he should yield. How could they hope, he and Elissa, to destroy this creature? They were so small, and Python’s powers were so vast.
Then he caught sight of Elissa’s pale face. She was pulling as hard as she could against those unrelenting fingers.
‘No!’ he shouted. The Enemy hissed, and cast Elissa aside. She fell, sprawling, to the floor.
The casket was glowing brightly, and already giving out heat. A horrible smell filled Silvius’s nostrils and he looked down to see the Enemy’s fingers blackening. ‘You will not keep it from me, boy.’
Silvius, terrified, grasped the chain. Though it was searing into his skin, he dulled the pain with an effort of willpower.
There was no divine vision. Just the eyes of the Enemy, and his burnt fingers clamped around the box, dragging the chain forwards, so that it dug into Silvius’s neck. The flesh fell away from the Enemy’s hands, which meant that for the smallest of moments he lost his grip, and Silvius jerked away, whilst his adversary lunged back at him, now in the form of a man once more.
Something smacked the Enemy on the side of the head, and he stumbled. It was Elissa, panting, with an oar. Hardly thinking, Silvius kicked him hard in the stomach, and the Enemy wobbled, keeling over. But all the time he was smiling.
‘Ship nymph!’ Elissa called. ‘Help us!’
‘He’s too powerful …’
‘Please!’
‘Hold fast … I’ll try …’
Elissa scooped up Ruffler, and both she and Silvius flung themselves at the rigging, grabbing on. The Enemy was crawling towards them, dragging himself forwards, pointed tongue still flickering from his human mouth.
Nothing could stop him.
The world tilted, as the ship nymph rolled herself portwards, hurling the Enemy off balance. As he scrambled uselessly to find purchase, she shifted herself starboard. The Enemy, taken unawares, was flung over the side of the ship, and landed with a great splash in the sea.
The ship nymph righted herself, and the two companions rushed to look out. A brief flash of red lit up the waters from beneath.
Then there was nothing.
They collapsed, exhausted, onto the deck.
‘Thank you, ship nymph,’ said Silvius to the figurehead when they had recovered.
She inclined her mast in reply.
‘Python’s forces reach far …’ Elissa said. ‘Apollo told us to go to Sicilia. Will we find directions there? I don’t think that I can face another attack like that.’
‘I hope so … And I don’t think I can either …’ They lay, side by side, until the terrifying memory of the snake-like man was eclipsed by the gentle sound of the waves.
After a while, Elissa got up and began murmuring quietly to the ship nymph, looking about to see what damage had been done. Where the grappling hook had cut into the side, there was a darker shade, as if the ship had been bruised. She paused there and stroked it gently. Silvius busied himself with tidying up their belongings, cleaning the oar and making sure the bows and arrows were in working order.
Then, when they had finished their tasks, Silvius stood at the helm and let his thoughts wander, whilst Elissa and Ruffler played together.
‘What do you know about Python?’ Silvius asked the ship nymph.
‘He was one of the most powerful gods before the Olympians came,’ she replied, her voice seeming to come from all over the ship. ‘He used to rule from Delphi, and then Apollo defeated him. And now the Olympians are leaving, he wants to return.’ The ship shuddered along her beautiful length.
‘So after Sicilia, where should we go?’
‘You may find out in Sicilia. It is not given to me to know any more. We nymphs do not have the gift of prophecy. Although some say it is more of a curse.’
The ship nymph, calm now, sailed placidly on. Occasionally a dolphin or two would leap around the bow, and click in its own tongue, exchanging news with her.
As Elissa was gazing out over the stern, she called excitedly, ‘Look! Silvius! Quickly!’
Joining her, Silvius’s eyes followed the length of her arm, and saw, rising out of the white foam of the sea, the wild, pale faces of the sea nymphs. They pointed and stared, and as the ship approached them – a little haughtily, perhaps – the sea nymphs scattered. The ship nymph, aware of their attention, opened the eyes of her figurehead, and said, ‘Poor things. They’ve never seen such a thing as me before. Peace, sisters, go back to your watery homes.’ But Silvius could tell she was proud of being a new, wondrous thing. The sea nymphs, giggling, dove back down into the depths, seaweedy hair trailing behind them.
Soon a dark mass hove into view on the horizon. It was now late in the afternoon, and the sun’s heat was mellower, and Silvius and Elissa stood watching as the land mass resolved itself into mountains, woods, harbours and shorelines.
It was a relief to see land again, although Silvius did not know what dangers might await them there. But there was no way they could turn back now.
The ship nymph brought them gracefully into a deep harbour, and anchored herself. ‘Sleep now,’ she said. ‘There is no danger.’
‘How do you know?’
‘The dolphins tell me all is quiet. I will watch, and for now, you should rest.’
Resolving to make for shore as soon as they woke the next morning, they curled up in the berths. Ruffler snuggled into Elissa’s side. Silvius was very much aware of how near Elissa was to him. The ship nymph sang a song, deep, ancient and sad.
Bold lady Dido, queen of the seas,
Led her people to settle new lands.
She burned with love for a Trojan prince …
Silvius could see a smile spread across Elissa’s face as she fell asleep, comforted by the song. He lay awake until the ship nymph had finished, and fell asleep to the surge of the sea.
Eighteen
The House Accursed
MYKENAI, ACHAEA: KINGHOUSE OF THE LION
Orestes and Tisamenos were now in a large chamber underground, lit only by a small opening in the wall far above them, through which a shaft of moonlight came, and the dim glow from the torch Orestes was holding. It took a moment or two for Tisamenos to be able to make out his father. Orestes was fumbling with something, half-hunched over, muttering to himself. He straightened up, the crack of his knees ringing loudly, and then, after a few attempts, he lit another torch.
Clean air came from above, and the torch flame flared brightly. Tisamenos felt a cool breeze on his face as his father moved around. At every few steps he paused and lit a torch. Soon there were a dozen or more, all blazing.
Tisamenos could now see clearly the huge black stone structure that occupied the centre. It was carved with all sorts of pictures which, as he drew nearer, he saw were human figures.
‘Here they all are,’ said Orestes, gruffly.
‘All who?’ said Tisamenos. Orestes drew closer and traced his hand over the image, as if he were caressing it.
‘All of them. All of us. There.’ He grabbed his son’s wrist, and pulled him to the right-hand side of the cube. ‘Tantalos, your ancestor, who out of arrogance served his own son to the gods.’
‘That’s just a story. Isn’t it?’ Tisamenos said, nervously.
Orestes laughed, and Tisamenos could smell the wine on his breath. ‘Depends on what you mean by just a story.’ Tisamenos gulped. ‘There is a lot of truth in stories. And here, look, is Atreos, who killed his own brother’s children – apart from one, of course. Bit closer to home, that one, isn’t it?’ Aegisthos had been the one that survived. Aegisthos, Erigone’s father. Could Orestes know about Erigone too? Had Electra told him? If he did know, why wasn’t he taking his own revenge? Why was his father bringing him down here, into the dark, away from the light? He felt suddenly afraid.
‘Father – what do you want me to do?’
‘To see, of course. To understand.’ He pressed the face of Tantalos, and a small opening appeared in the surface of the cube. Stretching down into the darkness was a flight of stairs.
‘Here. Now. Come and see.’ Orestes went first. All trace of the uncertainty had left his steps, and Tisamenos was beginning to see something of what Orestes had been like as a young man returning from his forced exile to reclaim his kingdom from his own mother and her lover. Orestes was going briskly down, and Tisamenos wondered how often his father came here.
A scratching noise, like that of claws on stone, unnerved him. It was much colder now, and there were goosebumps on his arms. The noise was outside of him. Was it some kind of beast? The scratching sound became a scrabbling, as if whatever it was that was down there had sensed they were coming.
Halting at the bottom of the stairs, Orestes spoke. In the light of the torch he looked bold and powerful.
‘Don’t go near her,’ he commanded.
They were now deep underground. How large the chamber was Tisamenos couldn’t tell. In front of him, larger than a grown man, manacled by a long, thick iron chain, was a dark, hunched-up creature.
Tisamenos gasped, as it flung up its head and opened a pair of large, leathery wings, hissing and showing sharp fangs. It pounced so that it landed on all fours, looking up at them, yanking at the chain, grunting, and Tisamenos was relieved to see that it was firmly fixed to a huge, solid ring.
‘What is it?’ he whispered. The second beast, he thought. He shivered. Was his father bringing him here to fight it? Was this another test? The thing hissed again, and lashed its long, whip-like tail back and forth.
‘The House Accursed,’ said Orestes. ‘When I … avenged your grandfather, the gods released the Furies. They tormented me, night and day, until …’
‘Until you went to Athens, and Athena absolved you, and the Furies were chained up under the Temple of Justice,’ finished Tisamenos. He knew the story well. Or at least he thought he did.
‘You have learned your lessons,’ said Orestes. ‘So they were. Two of them, at least. But what nobody knows – nobody else, not Electra, not Hermione, not Erigone – is that I was not fully absolved.’
Tisamenos felt dizzied. His father was giving him knowledge that nobody else had.
‘My crime was too great. To kill a mother …’ His voice broke a little, and he turned his eyes full onto his son. ‘I hardly knew her. She wasn’t my mother. I had no memories. She was a symbol. I had to kill her, for myself, and for my father. And for Electra, of course … she goaded me on. I do not blame her, Tisamenos. I do not blame anyone. It had to happen that way, and no other.’
Erigone was a mother, too. Little Penthilos, wrapped in soft linen. Was it any of his fault? What would revenge cost him?
The beast snarled, and shook its wings.
‘I was forced to keep one of the Furies here, in the foundations of this terrible house – a constant reminder of the pollution that I loosed upon the world. I’d hoped you would never know, never see, because the Fury will go when I die. But now …’
He moved to one side, and the Fury followed him, revealing behind it a long, narrow ledge, on which was a box.
‘I swore an oath to Apollo, Lord of Light. I swore to him that I would do everything I could to purify the world, to try to blot out the stain I had made. And he gave me something to guard.’
Orestes reached out, and the Fury, growling, let him pass. Trembling, he took the box, and moving nearer to the stairs, showed it to Tisamenos.
‘What is it?’ the boy asked, reaching forward to take it. Orestes pushed him out of the way, just in time, as the Fury lashed at him. Springing back, he watched warily as she skittered her claws on the ground.
‘Only I may touch it,’ said Orestes, ‘until I have passed it on to somebody pure in intent. Somebody who can bear the light of Apollo in this filthy world.’
Orestes stroked the box with the tip of his finger, and placed it back on its shelf. The Fury roared, saliva dripping from her teeth, and spread her wings so wide that Tisamenos thought for a moment that the creature would engulf them both. Then she settled in her guardian’s position once more, growling softly.
‘I do not know what is in there,’ Orestes said. ‘But I know that soon we will need it. Something is coming, Tisamenos. And we will need all our strengths to fight it.’
Nineteen
The Lion Rider
SICILIA
The bay of the island was wide, sunlight glinting on the waves. The ship nymph glided onto the shore, dragging herself up onto the beach. She was sleepy, still resting after the attack. Elissa was in the bow, gazing out, whilst Silvius busied himself with checking the weapons again and readying barrels for water. This was the first land other than Italia that she’d seen. It was opening up some place in her heart, the sea breeze seeming to tell her things that she’d always wanted to know. That there was a place for her, somewhere, that the waves had seen, that there were cities and landscapes she could know that were far bigger and stranger than the ones around Lavinium.
‘It seems clear,’ Elissa said over her shoulder. ‘It looks beautiful. Ruffler will love it!’
‘Come on, lend a hand!’ called Silvius, good-naturedly.
Feeling almost light-hearted, Elissa scampered to his side, and joined him in rolling a barrel.
‘We’ll need plenty of fresh water,’ Silvius said, wiping his brow. ‘That’s what our generals are always telling us!’
‘Then we can take the bows and arrows out for game.’
‘Good. Bet I get the first deer!’
‘Not if I get there before you!’ Elissa leapt over the edge, splashing up to her knees, followed by Ruffler, who happily paddled to shore as if he had spent all his life in the water. Elissa grabbed the stern and Silvius landed beside her, and together, laughing with the exertion of it, they dragged the ship nymph onto the scrubby sand beyond the tidemark.
‘Let’s go on ahead!’ Elissa wanted to rush into the woods to see what they could find. ‘All we know is we were meant to come here – we should look for clues.’
‘No, wait. When I was living in the woods with my mother, we’d always do this when we went somewhere new.’ Silvius found an oddly shaped stick, and pushed it into the sand.
‘Hurry up!’ Hardly waiting for Silvius to follow, Elissa was off into the scrub.
Ruffler scampered along beside her, his ears pricked up and twitching. Silvius was behind her, though he walked more softly than she did; he was used to the ways of the woods.
The vegetation was becoming lusher, and after a short while of walking westwards, Elissa heard the sound of a stream. Between the dappled tree trunks she glimpsed light on water.
And without thinking about it, she ran towards the bank, tearing off her outer tunic, hurling down her bow and arrows and throwing herself into the coolness of the water. It gave her a delightful shock, and she ducked underneath.
When she resurfaced, Silvius was on the bank, stripped down to his undershirt. The chain was still around his neck. He jumped in with a splash, almost knocking her over.
It felt wonderful to Elissa to wash away the stench of fish and salt. It was even better to feel that she was also washing away the touch of the Enemy.
She dipped in and out of the water, swimming naturally, whilst Silvius, a little more ungainly, kept to the shallows.
They drank till they could drink no more, and filled their water skins until they were tight and round.
‘I never want to leave here!’ she cried.
‘For the moment,’ answered Silvius, ‘neither do I.’
After a while, Silvius scrambled out and, having put his clothes back on, flopped in the shade of an olive tree; he was soon dozing and drying out. Elissa followed him dreamily, and sat on the bank, dangling her toes in the water.
Looking at the stream, she wondered about how it connected to the sea, and how all the rivers fed into the great Middle Sea. Her mother’s city was a fearsome power, on the shore of Africa. Could she find the way to Carthage? Could she find out about her mother? All she remembered was her soft touch, and the only thing she had from her was her pendant, shaped like a dolphin.
A sharp howl from Ruffler brought her back to the present. Silvius woke, suddenly alert.
‘He’s scented something.’ Elissa watched the wolf cub’s ears pricking, his whole little body pointing like an arrow.
They scrambled up, taking their water skins, and followed Ruffler as he scampered away.
‘Do you think it’s a stag?’ called Elissa as they ran, bows and arrows clattering. ‘I’ve always wanted to be at a stag hunt!’ Aeneas had never let her join a hunt, saying she had to be older.
‘I hope so!’ answered Silvius, and, laughing with the joy of it, they sped onwards.
They came to the edge of a thick wood. As soon as Elissa entered its bounds, a gloom fell over her, and the sun’s warmth vanished, filtered away by the leaves and branches. She was aware of the sun’s position.
‘What direction are we going in?’
‘Still westwards,’ answered Silvius. ‘But …’ He looked puzzled.
Elissa was feeling confused. The trees all looked the same.
‘I forgot to leave a marker,’ Silvius spoke uncertainly.
Now it also seemed that they were a lot further into the trees than Elissa had thought, as if the forest had somehow dragged them inwards. Suddenly she longed for the clarity of the stream.
Ruffler, ahead, flattened his ears and growled. Then he turned tail and pattered back to Elissa, hiding behind her legs.
