‘If you were a whore you still wouldn’t be here, for there’s not a man could afford you. Well, save Helikaon perhaps. So what are you?’
‘How would you define a whore?’ she countered.
‘Ah, a game. I love to play games. Very well… what is a whore? A woman gifted with the talent to make a hard man soft; a priestess of Aphrodite, the delight of sailors who miss their wives and their homes.’
‘It is not a game,’ said Andromache sharply. ‘A whore is a woman who offers her body to a man she doesn’t love for copper, trinkets or gifts. Not so?’
‘I prefer my version, but then I am romantically inclined. However, yes, both definitions are sound,’ he agreed.
‘Then I am a whore, for my body is being offered to a man I do not love for riches and security,’ she said.
‘Ah,’ cried Odysseus. ‘You should have asked what is the difference between a king’s daughter and a whore. I would have answered: “The price.” So who is the lucky fellow?’
Andromache stared into his ugly face and considered telling him to be on his way. Yet there was something comfortable about his company, and she felt at ease with him. ‘Hektor of Troy,’ she said at last, and saw his eyes widen.
‘You could do worse. A good man is Hektor.’
‘By which you mean he drinks wine until he falls over, belches at table, and rushes off to fight wars and gain glory. May the gods save us all from good men.
Are you married, Odysseus?’
‘I am indeed. I am also the most fortunate man on the Great Green, for my wife is Penelope. And she loves me.’ He chuckled. ‘Whenever I say that I am filled with wonder. I find it incomprehensible that she should.’
‘Then you are, as you say, fortunate. But then I expect sailors only marry for love. It makes them far richer than kings.’
‘Well, yes, I suppose it does. I should point out, though, that I am a king.’
‘Who shoots arrows into the moon?’ she said, smiling.
‘I know I don’t look like a king, but I truly am. My kingdom is the isle of Ithaka, and Penelope is my queen. And before you ask, no, we did not marry for love. My father arranged the match. We only met on our wedding day.’
‘And you fell in love the moment your eyes met, I suppose?’
‘No. I think she loathed me on sight. Not hard to see why. The first few months were… shall we say scratchy? Then I fell ill with a fever. Almost died. She nursed me. Said I talked in my delirium. She never told me what I said, but somehow, after that, things were different. We started to laugh together, then take long walks along the cliffs. One day…’ he shrugged. ‘One day we just realized we loved one another.’
Andromache gazed at the ugly man, seeing him anew. There was a touching honesty behind the tall tales, and a charm that slipped almost unnoticed past her defences. ‘You saw the attack on Helikaon?’ he said suddenly.
For a moment she did not know what he meant, then remembered the knifeman rushing forward. ‘The fight, yes. Helikaon is the man with the long black hair?’
‘He is a close friend of Hektor. He could tell you far more about him than I could.’
‘Why did the assassin want him dead?’
Odysseus shrugged. ‘Too pleasant a night to spend telling boring stories about traders and pirates and old grudges. Ask me something else.’
‘Was Helikaon the friend who said I looked like a goddess?’
‘Yes. Never seen him so smitten. Having met you, of course, I can understand it.’
She leaned towards him. ‘Let us not play this game any longer, Odysseus. I know what I am. Tall and plain, and a breeding cow for a Trojan prince. I need no false flattery.’
‘And I offer none. You are not pretty, it is true. But, for what my opinion is worth, I agree with Helikaon. You are beautiful.’
‘He said that?’
‘He said you were a goddess. I am just adding a little colour to the mural.’ She noticed he kept glancing back up towards the cliff path.
‘Am I boring you, king of Ithaka?’
He chuckled and looked embarrassed. ‘No, not at all. It is just … I am waiting for Helikaon to return.’
‘You think there will be another attempt on his life?’
‘Oh, almost certainly.’ She saw him take a deep breath, and then relax.
Following his gaze she looked up to see a group of men carrying a body down the path. ‘They didn’t succeed, though,’ he said happily.
‘Is he your son… or your lover?’ she asked.
‘My son died,’ he said. ‘And, no, Helikaon is not my lover. My tastes have never strayed in that direction. Which, when I was young, annoyed me. I felt I was missing something vital that all my friends enjoyed. No, I think of Helikaon almost as a son. Or perhaps as a younger version of the man I would like to have been. If that makes any sense.’
‘You would like to have been handsome?’
‘Indeed! Like a young god!’
‘And would Penelope have loved you any more?’
He sighed. ‘You are a shrewd woman. Will you tell me your name?’
‘Andromache of Thebe.’
‘Ah! I know your father, Ektion. Can’t say that I like him much.’
Andromache’s laughter pealed out. ‘No-one likes father. There is nothing in his life of worth – except that which can be traded for silver.’
‘You’ll meet a lot of men like him. Your new father, King Priam, is such a man.
Don’t you find it odd that such men can sire wonderful children? Hektor is generous and brave. Young Paris is gentle and studious. Even strange little Kassandra has no meanness of spirit. And your father sired you, Andromache, and I see in you a great soul.’
‘Perhaps you mistake intelligence for spirituality, Odysseus.’
‘No, lass, I don’t make mistakes about people. I have two gifts that have served me well. I can spin a yarn, and I can read the hearts of men and women. You are like my Penelope. You are, as you say, intelligent. You are also warm and open and honest. And you have courage and a sense of duty. My father once said that if a man was lucky he’d find a woman to ride the storm with. You are such a woman. Hektor is very lucky.’
‘His luck is not my concern,’ she said. ‘What of mine?’
‘Let us find out,’ he said, rising to his feet.
‘And how will we do this?’
‘We’ll seek out Aklides. Best soothsayer in Lykia. Well . .. when he’s not drunk or drugged. He’s from the desert country beyond Palestine. Lot of soothsayers come from the desert. He’ll read your future.’
‘Yes, and tell me I’ll have nine children and be rich and happy and live long.’
‘Are you frightened of a soothsayer, Andromache of Thebe?’ he chided.
‘I am frightened of nothing, Odysseus of Ithaka.’
‘Then come with me.’ He held out his hand, and she allowed him to draw her to her feet. Together they walked through the stalls and along the beach, past fornicating couples and drunken sailors, past campfires around which men were singing lusty songs. At last they reached a small tent below the cliffs. There was a long queue. Odysseus suggested they wait a little while longer, and perhaps find something to eat. Andromache had no wish to return to the palace just yet, and so agreed. They moved to a series of food stalls, Odysseus piling a prodigious amount of meat and bread onto a wooden plate. Andromache chose a small pie, filled with honey-soaked fruit, and together they returned to sit on a small wall near the water’s edge.
They chatted then. Andromache talked of Thera, and the Temple of the Horse, though she did not mention Kalliope, or any of her friends there. Instead she explained to him the rituals that were said to keep the Sleeping God calm.
Odysseus was as good a listener as he was a storyteller, prompting her with questions that showed his
