The sky was blue and clear, the sea calm, the winds light.
The Mykene galleys were not in sight yet. He guessed that one would be just beyond the headland to the south, the other two behind the outer island, one to the west, the other north. They would come at the Xanthos in a trident formation, knowing that no matter how manoeuvrable the ship might be she could not protect her beams from a three-pronged attack. The object would be for one –
perhaps two – of the galleys to ram the Xanthos amidships, breaching the hull.
Once she was caught, and taking on water, the other galleys could close in and their warriors swarm aboard. Kolanos knew his ships would be faster than the heavier Xanthos, but he would not know of the Fire Hurlers, nor of the supply of nephthar they could deliver.
Epeus returned, a tall, curved shield strapped to his left arm. It was of black and white cowhide, edged with bronze, and would stop most shafts. Behind him came Gershom. The man was heavily muscled, and, though not as large as Zidantas, he looked as if he would have little difficulty wielding the heavy club.
Thoughts of Zidantas weighed heavily on Helikaon’s heart as the ship moved across the bay.
Argurios was right. Had it not been for the mutilation of Alektruon’s corpse, Zidantas would probably have been alive now. Guilt tore at him. In all his life he had known three true friends: Odysseus, Hektor and Zidantas. Now one of them was gone.
Gershom’s voice cut through the darkness of his thoughts. ‘What is the Crippled Swan?’ he asked.
‘A manoeuvre to swing the ship. Imagine a swan with a broken wing trying to take off from a lake. It spins round and round. With a well-trained crew a galley can do the same. If it works, follow me, for I will be boarding one of their vessels, and the fighting will be fierce.’
‘I will be alongside you, Golden One.’
Helikaon glanced back towards the beach. He could see the now tiny figure of Odysseus standing at the water’s edge, the beautiful Andromache beside him.
Andromache’s face appeared in his mind. Odysseus often told stories of men who fell in love in an instant. Helikaon had not believed in such miracles. Love, surely, had to grow, through understanding and fellowship, mutual trust and the arrival of children. Now he was not so sure.
Last night the sight of her alone had struck him like a thunderbolt. Today, even while suffering the loss of his friend, he had gazed upon her and felt a longing he had never before experienced. A sudden and embarrassing thought came to him.
He looked at Gershom.
‘Were you close enough on the beach to hear my conversation with the Fat King?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you recall what I called the woman with him?’
‘You called her goddess.’
Helikaon swore.
‘She had a hard face,’ said Gershom.
‘Not hard. Strong. She is a woman of passion and also compassion. Intelligent, courageous and fiercely loyal.’
‘You know her then? I thought she was a stranger to you.’
‘My soul knows her.’
Slowly the Xanthos slid past the island at the mouth of the bay. Ahead, about half a mile to the west, Helikaon saw the Mykene command ship of Kolanos, the painted red eyes on the prow seeming to stare malevolently at the Xanthos. ‘You see him, Oniacus?’ Helikaon called out.
‘I do, lord,’ Oniacus shouted back. Helikaon scanned the Xanthos. Four men stood by each of the five Fire Hurlers. Archers knelt close by. Small copper braziers full of burning coals had been set near the deck rails, and the bowmen were busy tying oil-soaked rags around their shafts.
‘Ready the nephtharV ordered Helikaon. Each crew sprang to action, two men drawing back the weapons and hooking trigger ropes over jutting release bars.
Then they carefully eased the large wax-sealed clay pots into the firing baskets.
The Xanthos moved out onto open sea. From the south another galley emerged from behind the headland, oars cutting into the water as it surged towards them.
Helikaon glanced to his right. The third galley came into sight from the north, sunlight gleaming on the bronze ram beneath its prow.
‘Ready oars!’ bellowed Helikaon, transferring his gaze west to the Mykene command ship. It was beating towards them at speed some quarter-mile ahead.
‘Oars six!’
The Xanthos leapt forward as the sixty oars cut into the still blue water.
Picking up speed, the ship headed directly for Kolanos and his blood-eyed command galley. The enemy vessel from the south was closing, but the Xanthos moved beyond it.
Fire arrows sailed overhead. Several burning shafts struck the deck. Crewmen covered them with wet cloths, beating out the flames. The galley from the north was being rowed hard, hurtling towards the starboard beam. It would strike like a spear through the heart, the bronze ram splintering the hull. Helikaon stood grimly, watching the advancing ship.
All depended now on the skill of the nephthar crews.
In that moment a great calm descended on the Dardanian prince. It seemed that time slowed. Beside him, armed with the nail-studded club of Zidantas, stood the powerful form of Gershom. There was no fear apparent in the man.
Oniacus shouted out a command and a Hurler on the starboard side was released, the wooden throwing arm snapping upright. The nephthar ball sailed through the air, shattering on the deck of the advancing Mykene vessel. Another ball followed it. It struck true, breaking into shards and spraying acrid liquid over the port-side oarsmen. Archers on the Xanthos dipped their shafts into the fire braziers, then loosed flaming arrows, which arched across the sky to the galley’s deck.
A fire began, spreading along the planks with impossible speed. Flames erupted everywhere. One of the rowers, who had been doused with nephthar, was beating at his blazing tunic, but then his hands began to burn. Two enemy crewmen hurled buckets of water on the flames. The result was devastating. With a great whoosh the fire billowed higher. Men ran back in panic from the oars and the galley slewed to port.
As the Xanthos glided by, archers sent bronze-tipped shafts into the panicked crew of the enemy ship. The Mykene, many of them with their clothes aflame, leapt into the sea. Even here the fires continued to burn. Two more clay balls struck the centre of the galley’s deck. Nephthar had flowed down to the hold, and the deserted ship wallowed on the sea, fire burning through its timbers.
The other four Hurlers let fly – this time at the command ship of Kolanos. Three of the balls flopped into the sea, but one hit the port side, spraying its contents over the rowers. More fire arrows flew through the sky. One shaft landed on the deck, and Helikaon could see crewmen beating at the flames with blankets and cloaks. These too began to blaze.
Then the command ship veered away, and fled the fight.
Helikaon was about to order his rowers to give chase when an arrow flew past him, thudding into the deck rail. Glancing back he saw the last of the galleys closing from behind. Anger ripped through him. There was no time to pursue the fleeing Kolanos.
‘Crippled Swan starboard!’ he yelled. The rowers on the port side plunged their oars deep into the water, then lifted them clear, while to starboard the crew rowed with all their might. The Xantbos lurched, then swung swiftly. The pursuing galley powered on, seeking to use its ram as the Xanthos showed her beam. But the galley’s captain misjudged the speed of the turn, and as the two ships came together they were almost head on. The starboard Xanthos rowers dragged in their oars. The Mykene were not quick enough, and many of their oars were snapped and shattered as the ships ground together. Several men at the prow of the Xanthos hurled grappling lines down, hooks biting into the deck rails of the galley below. Other men towards the stern did the same. Hauling on the ropes they drew the ships together.
Helikaon donned his bronze helm and ran down the centre deck to where the toughest of his crew waited, swords in hand. Clambering over the rail Helikaon shouted: ‘For Zidantas!’ Then he leapt down to the Mykene deck below. Enemy crewmen, armed with swords, axes and clubs, rushed to meet the invaders.
