Helikaon hammered his blade across the face of the first, shoulder charged another man to the deck, then leapt forward to drive his sword through the chest of a third. A fourth attacker aimed a blow at his head – but a huge club swept him from his feet. Gershom surged into the melee, the club of Zidantas thundering against bronze armour and hurling men to the deck. More Xanthos warriors clambered down to the galley, and the fighting was brutal and bloody.
Helikaon killed another crewman. The battle was fierce now. Three warriors rushed at him. He parried a sword thrust from the first – then his foot slipped on the blood-smeared deck. As he fell he threw himself forward, rolling into the legs of another attacker, knocking the man from his feet. Twisting onto his back he blocked a plunging sword, and hacked a blow at the man’s legs.
A slim crewman from the Xanthos, carrying two curved daggers, charged in, slicing a blade through the attacker’s throat. Helikaon surged to his feet.
Gershom was to his right, the crewman to his left. Mykene warriors rushed at the three.
Helikaon charged to meet the new threat. Gershom and the crewman leapt forward with him, and together they clove into the Mykene ranks, cutting and killing.
Helikaon saw the Mykene Glaukos, sword in hand. Fury swept through him and he cut down the opponent facing him, and ran at the Mykene warrior. Arrows began to rain down from the decks above.
As Helikaon reached Glaukos he heard someone shout: ‘We surrender! Throw down your weapons, lads! For pity’s sake! We surrender!’ From all around came the clatter of weapons hitting the deck.
Glaukos stared hard at Helikaon for a moment. Then, seeing the men all around him had ceased to fight, he dropped his sword to the deck. Helikaon looked at the young man, and saw the hatred in his eyes.
‘You sailed with Zidantas,’ said Helikaon. ‘You knew what they had done to him.
Yet you joined them. I should gut you like a pig. But I will not. I will take you to where Argurios waits.’
Glaukos did not reply. Helikaon swung away from him. The slim crewman who had come to his rescue was cleaning his dagger blades. Helikaon approached him. The man was not young, in his forties at least.
‘My thanks to you. What is your name?’
The man’s eyes were dark, his expression calm. ‘I am Attalus.’
‘You fought bravely, and I am in your debt, Attalus.’
Turning away from the man Helikaon shouted instructions to the crew. ‘Fetch rope! I want all prisoners tied to the deck rails. And throw out lines for any of the other crew who are still in the water.’
Crewmen swarmed down from the Xanthos and the Mykene were herded along the deck, their wrists roped to the rails. Then Helikaon ordered the body of Zidantas to be lowered to the galley. Wrapped in a bloodstained blanket, it was laid at the centre of the deck. Helikaon removed the mutilated head from the sack and placed it at the severed neck. Then he took a golden ring from the pouch at his side, and placed it in Zidantas’ mouth – a gift for the Ferryman of Hades, to carry him across the dark river.
There was silence as he knelt by the body. After a moment, he rose and ran his eyes over the prisoners.
‘This was Zidantas,’ he said. ‘Some of you knew him for a brief time. Some of you may even have been the men who overpowered him, and dragged him to your camp. He was a good man, father to six daughters. He sailed the Great Green for longer than most of you have lived. He was a Hittite, and we shall send him to his gods in the Hittite manner. All of you will attend the ceremony, and during it you will have time to consider your part in his murder.’
ii
Argurios sat alone on the beach for a while, lost in thought. The actions of Kolanos were yet another stain upon the honour of the Mykene. The torture and murder of Zidantas had been sadistic and unnecessary. And yet it would not be Kolanos alone who suffered for the events at the Fat King’s bay. When Agamemnon learned that Argurios had saved the Golden One he would be furious. Argurios found himself wishing he had never agreed to walk with Helikaon. Had he remained on the beach then the assassination might have succeeded, and a good man like Zidantas would even now be preparing to sail home to his wife and daughters.
And how could young Glaukos have made such a decision, aligning himself with savage murderers?
It was a mystery to Argurios, and it saddened him.
Just then he saw the boy Xander nervously approaching him. He was carrying a wooden bowl in one hand, and a cheese-topped loaf in the other. ‘I thought you might be hungry, sir,’ he said.
Argurios stared hard at the freckle-faced boy, then nodded. ‘I am hungry.’
Taking the bowl he began to eat. It was a thin stew, but the spices were pleasantly hot on the tongue. The bread too was fresh. He looked up and saw the boy still hovering. ‘There was something else?’ he asked him.
‘I wanted to thank you for saving me.’
Argurios had always been uncomfortable around the young, even when young himself. Now he did not know what to say. He looked at the boy. He was pale, and obviously frightened. ‘Do not fear me,’ said Argurios. ‘I do not harm children.’
‘I wish I had never come here,’ said Xander suddenly. ‘I wish I’d stayed at home.’
‘I have had such wishes,’ Argurios told him. ‘Childhood is secure, but when the child becomes a man he sees the world for what it is. I grieve for Zidantas too.
Not all Mykene are like the men who killed him.’
‘I know that,’ said Xander, sitting himself on the sand at Argurios’ feet. ‘You saved me. And you nearly died doing that. I was terrified. Were you?’
‘Death holds no terror for me, boy. It comes to all men. The lucky ones die heroically, and their names are remembered. The unlucky ones die slowly, their hair turning white, their limbs becoming frail.’
Argurios finished the stew and the bread. Leaving the empty bowl on the rock beside him he stood, took up his helmet and walked over to where the men of the Penelope were gathered, watching the bay, wondering which ship, or ships, would return victorious.
Odysseus was sitting apart from his men, talking to the green-garbed Andromache.
She was a striking woman. Argurios was even more uncomfortable around women than he was around children, but he needed to speak to Odysseus. As he walked forward he realized young Xander was beside him. The boy looked up and smiled cheerfully. Argurios was tempted to scowl at him, and order him gone, but the openness of the smile disarmed him.
He approached Odysseus, who glanced up, and gestured for him to sit. Then he introduced Andromache. Argurios struggled for something to say. ‘I am sorry you had to witness such a grisly scene,’ he said, recalling the moment Helikaon had drawn the head from the sack.
‘I have seen severed heads before,’ she replied coolly.
Argurios could think of no way to prolong the conversation. Nor did he wish to.
He turned his attention to Odysseus. ‘My mission is to Troy,’ he said. ‘May I sail upon the Penelope?’’
‘Don’t know as I have room this trip,’ said Odysseus coldly.
‘He saved my life,’ said Xander suddenly.
‘Did he now? There’s a tale I’d like to hear.’
Argurios had turned on his heel and was walking away. ‘Wait, wait!’ said Odysseus. ‘Let me hear what the lad has to say. Go on, boy. Tell us this tale of daring.’ Argurios paused. He had no wish to remain with the hostile Ithakan, but equally he needed passage to Troy. Ill at ease he stood as Xander blurted out the story of the storm and the broken rail, and how he had swung over the raging sea. Odysseus listened intently, then looked Argurios in the eye. His expression was more friendly now. ‘You are a surprising man, Argurios. There will always be room on the Penelope for surprising men. It will be cramped, though.’
‘That does not concern me.’
Someone called out, and men on the beach came to their feet.
Out in the bay they saw the Xanthos easing her way through the shallows. She was towing a war galley. Mystified by this turn of events Argurios wandered down to the sea’s edge and stared out at the oncoming ships.
