Lycon nodded. He and Machaon had driven cattle there the previous year.
“Find Theokles — he will remember us as friends. We shall find a horse if we can, but otherwise you will have to run ... and you must take Hero with you.”
Lycon nodded again. Hero was swift; she would not slow him and they could not leave her alone with Greeks everywhere.
“What are you going to do?” Hero asked, knowing that Machaon was sending her with Lycon because it was the less dangerous charge.
“Cad and I will try and help the women ... there are too many Greeks for us to protect them directly ... but perhaps we can divert the attention of Odysseus’ men until the Cicones can get here ... Lycon be sure to tell Theokles that there are a dozen ships with forty rowers each.”
They took the Phaeacian ship to ground further up the beach, behind a wooded outcrop, where they were hidden from the Ithacan forces.
Machaon pulled Greek armour and swords from amongst their weapons. They had been retrieved from the battlefields of Troy, and included with their provisions to help them move amid the Greek soldiers. He and Cadmus fastened on the leather vests and aprons, and finally the bronze helmets. Perhaps they were not completely disguised, but they would not stand out against the Greeks.
“Wait here for a moment,” Machaon said to Lycon and Hero. “Cad and I will see if we can find you a horse.”
They jumped from the boat and made their way quickly to the remains of Ismarus. The Greeks had sacked the town, and left its ruins for the beach, where they caroused with no regard for anything but their own pleasure. The corpses of the Cicone men lay where they had fallen with no one left to bury them.
Machaon had seen the bloodbath of Troy, but Cadmus was winded by the carnage. He staggered, sickened and appalled. Machaon braced his brother’s shoulder. “Come on Cad, let’s just find a horse and get out of here.”
It did not take them long to find a steed, as the men of Odysseus had taken only the cattle, to roast on the beach. Machaon and Cadmus took the horse back to their ship and Lycon mounted.
Machaon spoke urgently to him. “Be careful,” he said. “Skirt well around the town. Once you are in the hills you should be fine. Do not get involved in the battle — that is for Theokles and the Cicones. We’ll meet you back here, but if things go wrong, take the ship and get Hero out of here.”
Lycon was reluctant, but he agreed.
Cadmus hoisted Hero onto the steed and, with a wave of farewell, Lycon urged the horse into the trees.
They rode into the hills beyond the town. The slope was steep and difficult, but Lycon was an able horseman. He took them through the trees silently, and invisibly. They rode without a break, until the sun had begun to slide into the evening horizon and the steed was spent. It was not a large beast and it had been carrying the two of them.
Lycon dismounted and helped his sister to the ground. He took the bridle from the horse’s head and released it.
“What are you doing?” Hero demanded as the steed disappeared.
“The creature is exhausted,” replied Lycon. “We can’t wait for it to recover — I don’t know what Mac and Cad are doing, but I doubt they’ll be able to keep it up for long.”
“So what are we going to do?” she asked. She had no idea where they were.
“It isn’t that much further.” Lycon held out his hand for his sister. “Are you ready to run?”
Hero nodded. The light was fading.
And so they ran, Hero in the footsteps of her brother. Lycon did not slow for her — she could easily match his speed — but he chose their path carefully because he knew that as the darkness came she would see less and less.
When they reached the mountain stronghold of the Cicones, the darkness was all but complete and Hero had already fallen a number of times. The village in the hills was lit with torches as its people readied to sleep. Very quickly Lycon and Hero were stopped.
“I am Lycon, son of Agelaus.” Lycon was breathless. “Can you take us to Theokles?”
Theokles was a huge man. He wore black, as did all Cicone warriors. His greeting was guarded.
“Lycon, I did not expect to see you here ... and without your kinsmen.”
Lycon bowed respectfully though Hero still clutched his hand.
“Theokles, we bring ill tidings,” he said quickly. “This is my sister, Hero. We have come from Ismarus — it has been sacked by Odysseus the King of Ithaca. The men are dead, the women and children have been taken.”
Theokles regarded him suspiciously. “Why do you come with the Greeks, son of Agelaus?” he said. “We have received word that the Herdsmen betrayed Troy.”
Lycon started. He had not anticipated this.
“The Herdsmen are faithful,” he said evenly. “We chase Odysseus to undo the false accusation with which we have been branded.”
“Should I trust you?”
“Send a man to a height above the trees. You will see the fires of the Greeks on the beach.” Lycon squeezed Hero’s hand reassuringly.
Theokles said nothing.
“My brothers are on the beaches trying to protect your women. Will the Cicone men not do as much?”
Theokles signalled one of his men to climb above the trees and check the shoreline. The Cicone returned shortly and confirmed that there were fires and ships on the beaches of Ismarus.
“Sound the horns,” instructed Theokles as he donned his own armour. “We take back Ismarus at dawn.”
The Cicones ran into action. Horns summoned the warriors from the hills and they surged into the stronghold on horseback. Theokles spoke to his people of the Greek marauders and soon the men were ready for war and vengeance.
Theokles turned to Lycon. “You and your sister will ride with us,” he said. “If this is some Greek trick, I will kill you and take your sister. I will not be gentle. If your friendship is true, then you may have whatever is in my power to give.”
Lycon did not release Hero’s hand. “Our friendship is true, Theokles. When you see that, I will ask only one thing. Do not kill the Ithacan King, Odysseus. We need him to claim the deed of which the Herdsmen stand accused.”
Theokles looked at him carefully and nodded slowly.
They were given a mountain steed, much bigger and stronger than the one on which they had embarked into the hills. It would carry them easily back to Ismarus. Hero held onto Lycon and muttered her prayers into his back. The Cicone warriors glanced curiously at the girl who clung to her brother in terror and praised the gods so earnestly and artfully. They were pious men; theirs was a city of Apollo and Zeus, and so they saw the devout stranger as a good sign.
“I was for leaving, for showing a clean pair of heels. But my men, the fools, refused my command. The spoils of Ismarus included wine aplenty, and beasts for roasting, and so they languished on the shore drinking and feasting on fatted cattle.”
The Odyssey Book IX
BOOK VIII
AS LYCON AND HERO made their way into the hills, Machaon had quickly told Cadmus of his plan to divert the Greeks. Cadmus had laughed.
The elder sons of Agelaus approached the beaches unseen, and merged into the hundreds of men from the Ithacan fleet. The Greeks had been celebrating for some time and they were loud and boisterous.
The women and children of Ismarus were in irons. They had not yet been shared amongst the men, who chose to pleasure their stomachs first. They hid their faces from the soldiers who were arguing over the more comely girls.
Machaon and Cadmus did not approach the captives too closely, for they had been to the city often. Both had known the arms of its women and they could not risk recognition. Instead, they moved amongst the revelry, listening for the names of the Greeks. And then, they started the whispers.
They leant into the ears of men as the walked by and they muttered ...
“Aremes says no man is faster than him.”
“Polymachus claims he is master of the javelin.”
“No man can throw th
e discus further than Ariston — or so he says.”
“The Southern Ithacans claim they are stronger than their Northern cousins.”
They did not stay to partake in the heated conversations they started, but moved swiftly through the crowd planting words in the fertile ground of the hot-blooded competitive Greeks. Soon the men of Odysseus argued vehemently over their relative prowess.
And then the Herdsmen called from within the crowd, “Let us settle the question with games!”
The soldiers rose to the suggestion enthusiastically and soon they were all calling for games to decide which man was the fastest and most able. Everything else was forgotten, courses for footraces were marked and prizes decided. Judges were elected and rules negotiated.
Machaon and Cadmus watched in amusement. At times during the long years of the siege, the Herdsmen had looked down from Mount Ida in amazement as the Greeks halted the war to conduct games. The Greeks had a passion and a weakness for sport. To the Herdsmen, who placed no worth in such competitions, it was mad.
The Trojans also found the Greek fascination for games amusing. They could never understand why the Greeks would leave the beds of their wives to throw javelins and wrestle men. Many claimed that Paris had seduced Helen whilst her husband was making love to a discus. And so, Troy had been surprised when the thousand-strong Greek fleet had come to reclaim the wife of the Spartan King, and they assumed the siege would be short-lived. Too late they realised the sport in war.
By the time the men of Odysseus had resolved issues of rules and prizes, the sun was low in the sky. Torches were lit to line the beach so the games could continue after dark.
A tall strong man, who carried his years well and looked out with cunning eyes, came forth to address the Ithacans. The soldiers bore him goodwill and reverence. Machaon and Cadmus recognised him as Odysseus.
The King of Ithaca attempted to persuade his men to take what they had pillaged, including the women, and show their heels to Ismarus.
“The wind now blows fair for Ithaca,” he pleaded. “Let us take our rich plunder and put to sea and for home.”
Machaon stiffened. If the Greeks left now the Cicone women would be lost. He moved amongst the gathered forces as Odysseus wrought his persuasion, whispering as he went, “Odysseus fears defeat in the games ... the king is afraid of honest competition.”
As before, he did not stop to allow anyone to know the man from whom the whisper came, but it was enough for the words to be heard. The soldiers insisted that the games should be held. In the end Odysseus called them fools and returned to his ship in disgust.
Cadmus clapped his brother on the back, delighted with how well the ploy had worked. Machaon winced, for his back had not yet forgotten the fall of the whip, but he smiled. They just had to keep the Greeks competing until help came.
“Maybe we should try and speak with Odysseus now,” suggested Cadmus, glancing at the Greek leader who glowered at the festivities from the bow of his ship.
Machaon shook his head. “Not now, Cad. He’s angry, and if Odysseus realises that there are Herdsmen amongst his men, he may become suspicious.”
And so the sons of Agelaus watched as the foot races began. The races had to be run many times for there were nearly five hundred Greek warriors all keen to prove their speed. The night was half over when a long-legged soldier was declared the victor and given a prize of gold looted from the houses of Ismarus.
The men then competed in throwing the discus. Before the winner was decided, Odysseus himself had a change of heart, and hurled the disc with such power that the event was declared his. The stars had begun to fade.
Cadmus yawned. Once it had become obvious that the Greeks would not be dissuaded from competing, there had been nothing to do but watch. Despite the danger of their position they had become bored.
“If they were doing that on the back of a bull, I’d be impressed,” Cadmus muttered to his brother as they watched the jumping.
Machaon nodded. He glanced up at the mountains. He had long seen what the preoccupied Ithacans had failed to notice: a darker movement through the trees approaching the beaches.
Eos once again sent her rosy grasp over the horizon, reaching past the mountains towards the shore. In the blushing light of dawn, the Cicone warriors surged into view like a black flood. The Greeks responded with panic as they scrambled for their weapons.
Machaon and Cadmus made their way to where the women were chained. The shackles were not hard to remove and the women were now ready to exact a vengeance of their own. They gathered the irons that had bound them to use as weapons against their captors.
A shower of spears fell upon the beach from the advancing Cicone forces and the battle began. The Greeks fought back, but they were outnumbered. The elder sons of Agelaus continued to free the women of Ismarus, struggling to prevent them running headlong into the fray with only their chains. Machaon howled to let Lycon know where they were in the clash of steel and the screams of men.
From amongst the mounted forces of Theokles, Lycon and Hero heard the proud, strong call of their brother, and were relieved. It was impossible to see what had become of them in the mêlée, but there was no note of peril in Machaon’s howl. Lycon answered with a call that was soulful, despite its youth.
The pitched battle continued through the strengthening day as both Cicones and Greeks exchanged bronze spears in volley after volley. By dusk, the Greeks who had spent the previous day and night in celebration and sport, were all but spent.
They fought fiercely, but it was clear they could not prevail. Odysseus himself stood at the head of his men wielding his sword with deadly skill. It was Theokles who did battle with the King of Ithaca and brought him to his knees. But when Odysseus, disarmed, looked up to the face of the Cicone warrior, Theokles stayed his blade.
“You have been spared by the Herdsmen of Ida!” the avenging Cicone spat, and left Odysseus, to slay some other Greek.
Odysseus did not move. For a moment he gaped at Theokles. And then he stood and called his men to retreat. The scramble back to the ships was frenetic and desperate. They left many dead on the shore as they stroked into the open sea. The fleet did not raise its sails, but stayed within sight of the beaches. The men shouted in unison towards the shore.
“What are they doing?” Hero asked, unable to make out the words.
“They salute each of their fallen comrades,” Lycon replied. “They shout the name of each man, three times in turn.”
“Oh.” Hero was quiet. As much as she reviled the men who had destroyed Troy, there was sadness to the salute, which touched her.
The children of Agelaus found each other quickly.
“Were you praying for us, Hero?” asked Cadmus as she threw her arms around them.
“Incessantly,” replied Lycon tersely.
Theokles approached with his large hand in the grasp of a beautiful young girl no older than Hero.
He greeted them solemnly, but warmly. “The Cicones are in your debt,” he said. “This is my daughter, Althea. She tells me she was freed from irons by beardless Greeks who took the women away from the dangers of battle.” He rubbed his brow, both relieved and bemused. “Althea says she was saved from outrage only because the men of Odysseus were distracted by games.”
Machaon and Cadmus exchanged a glance and laughed.
Theokles smiled. “So the legendary Odysseus has been outwitted by Herdsmen.”
“We must go,” said Machaon. “Theokles, we are sorry for the loss of your city and for the deaths of so many of your people.”
“As I am sorry for the troubles of the Herdsmen,” the Cicone replied. He put his hand on Machaon’s shoulder. “Till better times.”
Machaon responded in kind. “Till better times.”
They returned to the Phaeacian ship, but they did not put out to sea. Fatigue claimed them for they had not slept for two days. Hero stumbled into the cabin and dropped into oblivion with an unfinished prayer on her lips. Her brot
hers fell onto the deck, intending to rest for only a moment, and then they too surrendered to the arms of Morpheus.
In time, Machaon woke with a start. He cursed and got to his feet. It was dark. He looked to the stars and saw it was deep into the night. He nudged Cadmus awake with his foot, but he let Lycon sleep.
“Come on, Cad,” he said quietly. “Help me push the boat into the water, or Odysseus will get himself killed before we can get to him.”
Lycon stirred as the ship bound forth into the waves in the extraordinary manner of Phaeacian craft. His brothers jumped aboard before he woke enough to rise. The water foamed in their wake as the vessel took a course west with the constellation they had come to call Agelaus at their backs.
The shore was long gone when the wind rose and the waves with it. The stars had disappeared. Hero emerged from the cabin, woken by the toss of the boat.
“It’s okay Hero,” Cadmus reassured her. Her frightened eyes were so wide they seemed to glow in the darkness. “It’s just a storm.”
Jagged spears of lightning plummeted into the distant sea and cast the sky in colourless light, making visible the heavy clouds that blocked the stars.
Hero cringed. “Zeus marshalls the clouds against us,” she said. “We must have angered him.”
Cadmus glanced uneasily at Machaon. The clouds had gathered with unnatural speed in a sky which only moments before had been completely clear.
“Not us Hero,” said Machaon. “We caught sight of the Ithacan fleet just before the weather turned. If the gods sent this squall, it is for them not us ... Apollo was patron of Ismarus.”
“Well then, we must turn the boat and flee!” Hero cried in panic. “We will get caught in this storm.”
“We cannot lose Odysseus,” Lycon countered. “If Zeus intended to kill him, the lightning would have struck his boat.”
“Ly’s right,” agreed Cadmus. “If the storm blows him off course we must follow, and if his boat is sunk we must try to save him.”
“Why must we follow now?” Hero was aghast. Her brothers intended to pursue Odysseus into the storm. “This vessel found Odysseus before ... ”
Chasing Odysseus Page 7
