iii
Kalliades spat blood from his mouth, and wedged a lump of cloth into his cheek.
Argurios’ spear had sliced up under his helmet, ripping through the flesh of his face. He had been lucky. The point had missed his eye by a hair’s breadth. He had then been ignominiously kicked back down the stairs, and was now sheltering by a rear doorway, Banokles beside him, his tall shield swung to his back.
‘At least there are no more arrows,’ said Banokles, passing Kalliades a fresh cloth. Blood was flowing freely now. ‘Thought he had you,’ he added.
‘Too damn close,’ answered Kalliades, spitting more blood.
‘He killed Eruthros. Opened his throat.’
‘I saw.’
Kalliades gazed back at the stairs. ‘We should pull back,’ he said. ‘Gather ladders from the walls. Then we could hit them from several sides.’
‘They can’t hold much longer,’ said Banokles.
‘That is Argurios,’ Kalliades pointed out. ‘He could hold all night.’
‘Ah well,’ answered Banokles, with a wide grin, ‘when the king makes you a general I’ll be your ladder man. Until then I think I’ll keep my head down.’
‘I need stitches, otherwise I’ll bleed to death,’ grumbled Kalliades. Together the two men moved out into the megaron. There were some forty wounded Mykene warriors already there, being attended by comrades. Kalliades pulled off his helm and sat down on Priam’s throne. Banokles doffed his own helmet, then reached into the small pouch at his sword belt, drawing out a curved needle and a length of thread. With a cloth he tried to wipe away the blood, but it was flowing too freely.
‘Made a real mess of your face,’ he offered. ‘Luckily you always were an ugly whoreson.’
‘Just stitch it,’ snapped Kalliades.
Leaning his head back he gritted his teeth against the stinging of the needle, and the tightening of the raw flesh. Banokles’ fingers kept slipping as fresh blood pumped over them, but eventually the flow slowed.
‘Are you going to try Argurios again?’ asked Banokles, as he tied the last knot.
Kalliades shook his head. ‘I did my duty once. I don’t want to be the man who killed Argurios. Let someone else send his shade on the dark road. He may be the enemy now, but I’ll be sad when he falls.’
‘Well, I’m going back,’ said Banokles. ‘If someone doesn’t clear the path I’ll never get to ride one of Priam’s daughters.’
‘May Ares guide your spear,’ said Kalliades.
‘He always does,’ replied Banokles, donning his helm. Gathering up his spear, the big man walked back to the fighting.
Kalliades felt a heaviness descend on his spirit. This entire venture was turning to goat shit. Argurios had fooled them, drawn them in to where he wanted to fight. Kolanos was an idiot not to have seen his strategy. They would not break Argurios. Instead the night would slowly drift by, and by morning the entire city would turn on them.
Some of the wounded men were gathering up their weapons again. Others were stretched out, leaking blood to the floor.
A short and a simple battle, with plenty of plunder. That was what Kolanos had promised.
Even as he thought of the man he saw him, moving across the megaron, a bow in his hand. Kolanos was wearing no helmet, his white hair flowing free to his shoulders.
Kalliades’ view of him sunk to a new depth. Heroes did not use bows. They fought with sword and lance, facing their enemies, eye to eye, hand to hand.
Then, in the distance, he heard a horn blow. It echoed mournfully through the night. Then the sound was repeated, over and over.
Kolanos paused and swung back to where the Trojan prince, Agathon, was standing.
Kalliades could not hear their conversation, but he saw that Agathon was concerned by the blowing of the horn. His face looked tight and tense, and he kept casting nervous glances towards the door.
Then Kolanos ran back to the scene of the fighting. Agathon headed in the opposite direction, and Kalliades saw him pass out into the night.
Kalliades remained where he was, lost in thought. Had he known Argurios was an enemy here he would never have accepted the mission. Not through fear of the man, for Kalliades feared nothing. Simply because Argurios had an uncanny knack of never losing.
The damned horn continued to blow. It sounded closer now. Kalliades heaved himself to his feet and walked out into the night. There were Thrakians milling in the courtyard, talking in urgent voices.
‘What is happening?’ asked Kalliades.
‘The Great Gates are open,’ a man told him. ‘More Trojans are coming.’
Then another Thrakian came sprinting through the gates, shouting, ‘Hektor has returned! The prince is back! Fly for your lives!’
The Thrakians stood still for only a moment. Then they began to stream away through the palace gates.
Kalliades swore, and ran back into the megaron.
XXXV
The Swan’s Promise
i
Argurios battled on, Helikaon beside him. The older warrior was beginning to tire now, and knew that soon he would have to step back, allowing either Dios or Polydorus to take his place for a while. He had still not fully recovered from the assassination attempt back in the autumn, and his arms were beginning to feel heavy, his breath coming in harsh rasps.
Blocking a spear-thrust, he slammed his shield into the warrior facing him, then drove his spear high and hard at the man’s helmet. It hammered into the brow, i snapping the warrior’s head back and throwing him off balance. Argurios hurled himself against the man, knocking him back into the warrior behind him. Both fell clumsily. For a moment only there was a gap in the fighting, as the Mykene struggled to rise.
In the distance Argurios could hear a horn blowing. He glanced at Helikaon.
‘It is the Call to Arms,’ shouted Helikaon. ‘Reinforcements are coming!’
A cheer went up from the people on the gallery, and many of them began to shout down jeers and threats to the Mykene.
‘You are finished now!’ bellowed one man. ‘Like rats in a trap!’
But the Mykene did not run. Instead they launched a fresh attack on the stairs.
Argurios fought on. His spear point snapped against a shield. Hurling the weapon aside he drew his sword. His opponent, a huge warrior, threw himself at him, knocking him from his feet. The enemy’s lance stabbed towards Argurios’ face.
Twisting away from the blade Argurios lashed out with his foot, catching the man in the ankle. He stumbled. Argurios surged up, his sword plunging through the man’s spear arm at the biceps. The Mykene jerked back, but the sword was stuck fast. Forced to release his hold on the weapon Argurios leaned back and hammered his foot against the man’s hip. The Mykene fell heavily. Other warriors clambered over him.
‘Argurios!’ shouted Polydorus, thrusting his own spear into Argurios’ hand. Even as he took it Argurios twisted his body and surged forward, the point of the spear piercing a warrior’s throat, and snapping the neck.
