by Peter Tonkin
‘The man the bear killed…’ echoed the hunter his tone hovering somewhere between shock and scepticism.
In a few words I explained what had happened, why, and what I had discovered.
‘We’ll go and examine the site,’ he decided. ‘Whether there’s a man killed by a bear there or not, I want to see that carcase too. Fair enough, if we have the head and hoof in your bag along with the arrow King Odysseus found, then that all adds up to a pretty convincing case. But the more I see for myself, the more use I’ll be to the High Priestess. Let’s go!’
Side by side we hurried through the stirring camp, doing our best to avoid the soldiers as they went about their business, washing, visiting latrines and consuming their meagre battlefield breakfast. At least the bustle thinned as we approached the rubbish piles. This was hardly surprising. The cess pits were some distance away and there was nothing in bowls of gruel, loaves of coarse emmer bread and pots of olive oil or honey that needed to be thrown away – not by thousands of bored and hungry soldiers willing to consume every last crumb or drop. So Ikaros and I approached the pile I had visited last night absolutely alone.
‘This is it?’ Ikaros asked, looking up as we arrived.
‘Yes.’
‘I can’t see any bears. That’s a good start.’
I dismissed his jocularity, for not only could I not see any bears, I couldn’t see any corpses. Nor, when I rounded the stinking mound, could I see the dead deer’s bones either.
‘It’s gone,’ I said.
‘Good thing too,’ he answered, still thinking I was talking about the bear.
‘No,’ I said urgently. ‘Not just the bear. The body, the carcase, everything!’
He opened his mouth and I could see the question trembling on his lips – Are you sure this is the right mound? But the question never came. At least part of the reason for that must have been the fact that we had been following my tracks – cautious footprints coming up, reckless ones going back down. And this was the place they stopped. And started. A frown flashed across his face. ‘So someone’s been here and cleared the mess away,’ he said quietly. ‘Lots of footprints over there.’ He gestured to the far side of the mound where the Rat had appeared and disappeared last night. ‘Your rat-faced man and his friends I would guess. But I doubt they’d have cleared away everything that men like you and I can see…’
He went down on one knee and bent towards the ground, sniffing. ‘I smell blood,’ he said, glancing up at me. He put his spread palm on the grass and raised it for me to see. It was red and covered thickly. ‘Almost as much blood here as there was from the stag’s slit throat,’ he said. ‘And the prints of a bear’s paws. Biggest I’ve ever seen. Looks like the Rat’s friend was either torn to pieces, or he burst like an overblown bladder.’
iii
‘Right,’ said Ikaros after a brief, thoughtful pause. ‘I never doubted you but this proves your story. Let’s take everything you’ve discovered to my Basilissa the High Priestess.’ He straightened, giving a bark of cynical laughter. ‘She and the High King were on bad enough terms already. What will happen when she finds out he actually ate the sacred deer I can’t imagine!’
‘I ate some of it myself,’ I admitted nervously.
‘Let’s not mention that,’ he said. ‘And let’s hope the Goddess didn’t notice it either or you could find yourself in trouble too. Right. Wait here and I’ll scout along the trail left by the bear, up as far as the edge of the forest at least, I won’t be long.’
‘But why?’
‘It could have been the bear that took the corpse of the man it killed. Or, more importantly, it could have taken the carcase of the deer. It would have been down here foraging for food after all!’ And with that, he was off.
I stood, waiting listlessly, my mind wandering through forests of speculation, hardly aware of my surroundings at all – despite the stench, the flies and the hungry birds, cats and dogs, all foraging like the bear had done.
‘So,’ said Arouraios the Rat, his voice sliding into my thoughts like a dagger between ribs. ‘They were right. Here you are back again. You just can’t keep away, can you?’
I swung round to face him, mouth hanging open, simply aghast.
‘And by the look of things you have kindly brought everything I’m looking for. I’ll wager you have the missing skull in that bag. And I see you have the tell-tale dagger in your belt. Just too much temptation to be resisted…’
I was quicker thinking this morning. The gaudy gift was out before he finished speaking, its bright blade pointed straight at him.
‘Oh,’ he chuckled. ‘So you want to make a fight of it this time, do you?’ He pulled out his own dagger and flung himself forward. The action was so immediate and unexpected after his drawling speech it caught me completely off guard. His dagger knocked mine aside and was within a finger-length of my side when there was a crack! That sounded disturbingly like a breaking rib. Rat’s head was flung sideways and his body followed it, collapsing onto the slope of the rubbish tip. He lay still. A trickle of blood began to run down his face from just above his cheekbone in front of the top of his ear and a big bruise started to form around it.
‘I take it that’s the Rat,’ said Ikaros, coiling his sling round his fingers as he approached.
‘Is he dead?’ I wondered.
‘I doubt it. You want to slit his throat? That’s twice now. He’s hunting you and he knows what you look like.’
‘He knows what this dagger looks like at any rate,’ I said, stooping to pick it up.’ I held the gaudy weapon up. ‘I was given it for reciting an epic song last night.’
‘A double-edged gift if potential murderers can use it to identify you,’ said Ikaros pensively. As he talked, he stooped and retrieved the Rat’s dagger too, holding it up to examine the blade. It was clearly an old weapon, well-used, though recently honed. The edge of the bronze blade had become serrated through clashes with other daggers over the years and the Rat had clearly sought to make use of this, turning part of the edge into a kind of saw. Ikaros fell silent for a moment longer as he examined this, then he continued, ‘Well, we’ll have to leave him here, alive or dead. We can’t go wandering about the place with him slung over our shoulders. And we’ve got to get on. The High Priestess is no more patient than the Goddess is.’ He paused for a moment, looking down at the unconscious man then he handed me the Rat’s dagger. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘That was a very near thing. Maybe the Goddess noticed that you ate some of her sacred deer after all.’
I looked at the dagger he had just given me, unsure what to do with it. ‘Stick it in your belt and hide the jewelled one away,’ he advised. ‘You appear to be in enough trouble with the Goddess without adding anyone to the list who’s been ordered like Rat here, to kill the man with the limp and the gaudy knife.’
We walked silently through the camp, side by side as I slid Agamemnon’s dagger into the bag beside the arrow, the foreleg and the skull. There were questions trembling on the tip of my tongue but I was hesitant to voice them. Ikaros seemed such a practical man – very much of the earthly realm rather than the celestial, despite his position in the Temple of Artemis. Like acting captain Eurylocus of Thalassa but rather more imaginative. How was it, therefore, that he talked about the Goddess as though she was not only real but closely involved in the doings of mere mortals like us? It struck me as an attitude which was strikingly different to Odysseus’ and that was unsettling because they were so similar in other ways. Did I dare ask him the double-edged question that seemed to be at the heart of this affair – is the Goddess really controlling the weather and stopping the High King’s army sailing to Troy? If she is, will she continue to do so until the guilty man is unmasked and the terrible sacrifice made? I found myself shivering slightly at the thought of such a powerful and implacable being becoming so closely involved in our seemingly insignificant lives. How dangerous was it for Odysseus and me that the vital task of unmasking the man who had killed A
rtemis’ priestess – leading to the satisfaction of her horrific demands - apparently lay almost entirely in the hands of my captain and myself?
***
By the greatest of good fortune, Ikaros was content to let us go to the High King’s tent and our meeting with the High Priestess via Diomedes’ accommodation. The King of Argos had finished his morning rituals and was free to join us before he went to exercise his troops. In as few words as possible, I explained what was going on and long before I had finished, the young king had joined us so that we three arrived at Agamemnon’s tent shoulder to shoulder. We were stopped at the entrance by a squad of guards who, although respectfully apologetic, refused to let even the king enter. As we waited, I could hear raised voices from inside. The High Priestess, the High King and someone else were clearly having a discussion about dangerous matters.
Part-way through this increasingly heated debate, Palamedes and Aias arrived together with a servant who had clearly been sent to summon them. The two princes pushed arrogantly past us as though we were too lowly to merit their attention – let alone their courtesy. The guards parted to allow them entry and as they did so, Diomedes led Ikaros and myself through in their footsteps as though leading a charge against the Scaean Gate of Troy itself. The guards hesitated. Stopping us as we arrived was clearly one thing – barring our way as we pushed through in the princes’ footsteps was another.
We found the High Priestess Karpathia alone in the reception area facing the High King and his brother Menelaus. One glance assured me that the High Priestess didn’t need any support; no earthly support at any rate. ‘Here,’ said Agamemnon as Palamedes and Aias entered. ‘In the absence of your choice King Odysseus, here are the men looking into the matter!’ Such was his obvious anger that he did not appear to notice we three following behind them, though this could also be because we hesitated in the outer lobby.
Karpathia swung round to face the two princes. ‘And what have you discovered?’ she snapped to Palamedes. ‘King Odysseus discovered how the girl died, how the stag died, how her body was hidden and how its carcase was transported away all within an afternoon! What more have you discovered in the days that have passed since he left?’
‘Nothing more,’ said Palamedes, his tone making clear that he was mightily insulted to be addressed in such an abrupt manner.
‘No further towards discovering who fired the fatal arrow?’
‘No.’
‘No further towards discovering where the stag with the golden antlers is being hidden?’
‘No!’
‘That’s funny,’ said Ikaros, stepping forward and interrupting as though he was talking to a beggar rather than a prince. ‘Because you all ate it last night!’
A silence descended as though Zeus the Thunderer was hovering just above us. Diomedes and I also stepped into the reception area to stand behind Ikaros and Karpathia.
‘Who is this?’ grated Agamemnon, glaring at the retired huntsman.
‘His name is Ikaros,’ snapped Karpathia. ‘He is one of my servants!’
‘Why am I not surprised?’ demanded Agamemnon in a mock-fainting voice.
‘And has your servant any proof of this allegation?’ demanded Palamedes.
‘I…’ I began, stepping forward - only to find myself pushed firmly back by Ikaros.
Diomedes also stepped forward as though hiding me behind his more massive frame. ‘There was ample proof,’ he said. ‘It was up on the rubbish mound last night where the High King’s cooks put it after the feast. But it has gone.’
‘I see…’ Palamedes voice lingered on the word. He exchanged a glance with Aias. Was there a tinge of relief in his expression, I wondered. ‘Gone. Yes, I see…’ he continued silkily.
‘You are not the only one that sees,’ snarled Karpathia. ‘The Goddess sees!’ She swept the four men opposite her with a withering glance. ‘You can lie to us but you cannot lie to her. And don’t for a heartbeat suppose that she will sit idly by in the face of your sneering and evasion. I warn you, if you persist in this secrecy and equivocation, you will find the hand of the Goddess in more than just the weather which is doing so much damage to you and your plans!’ She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving Diomedes, Ikaros and me with no choice but to follow her.
iv
‘Basilissa,’ said Ikaros, humbly, as the High Priestess stalked down the hill from Agamemnon’s tent towards Aulis and her chariot. ‘I had supposed you planned to ask the High King about the new corpse…’
‘I did so,’ answered Karpathia. ‘The pompous fool and his cuckold brother deny any knowledge of any man who might be found murdered on the road to Thebes, what he was doing there or how he came to die there but of course they are lying. Their duplicity is written plainly on their faces!’ She took a deep breath. ‘So our conversation moved rather rapidly onto the central matter that lies between us. The murder of my priestess and the sacred deer, and the utter failure of the men he has appointed to look into it to discover anything important at all.’ She took another, calming breath, then continued, more moderately. ‘But I see that in the absence of King Odysseus you have brought his right hand. Good. And I assume from the speed with which you silenced him that he has the proof of the allegation you made. Though I have to admit I was not surprised to hear that the deer has been eaten. Why else kill it? Hardly for a pair of gilded antlers after all! And King Diomedes, I’m sure the Goddess is very flattered to find you offering your help as well.’
‘I doubt whether I can replace King Odysseus in any meaningful way,’ said Diomedes.
‘Highness,’ said Ikaros, ‘It seems to me that you will be doing service enough if you just keep the rhapsode here alive. Whether the Rat is dead or alive, he was certainly not working alone and he was clearly tasked with stopping Odysseus’ investigation from going any further – even though Odysseus was not investigating in person for the moment. Just as our young rhapsode seems to have impressed more powerful people than he realised, he has obviously also managed to make many more powerful enemies than he dreams of.’
‘I see what you mean,’ said Diomedes. ‘And of all the men most likely to be responsible for setting the Rat on his mission, those four must head the list. Well, three of them at any rate – I can’t see where poor old Menelaus could possibly fit into the pattern such as it is.’
‘Unless,’ suggested Ikaros, ‘Menelaus is as willing as the guilty man to cover everything up in the hope that the invasion can proceed at once and he can recover his errant wife from Prince Paris’ harem all the sooner.’
‘However,’ I added, ‘Just before he left for Ithaka, King Odysseus suggested to me that the High King has appointed Palamedes and Aias to your investigation precisely because he does not want the matter resolved. Whoever fired the fatal arrow is likely to have been one of the leaders of the army; no-one else would be up there hunting alone. Agamemnon simply dare not order such a man to bring his family here and then sacrifice a child to satisfy the Goddess. It would destroy his plans and ruin his standing; and, as even Prince Achilles has observed, it could conceivably start a civil war.’ I would have added especially as neither Odysseus or he really believe the Goddess is as directly involved as everyone at her temple seems to be. But perhaps wisely, I held my tongue.
‘But the Goddess must be satisfied,’ said Karpathia, proving my mental point at once. ‘If she is not, the entire campaign will stop. Not only stop, but never, ever, proceed. Even if he tries again in ten years’ time, he will get no further than Aulis until the sacrifice is made. What will that do to the High King’s standing and reputation?’
‘Nothing good, that’s for certain,’ said Diomedes. ‘He’s in a cleft stick. He dare not have the guilty man unmasked in case that starts a war between the armies here. But the armies know how the situation needs to be resolved – by revealing the murderer and sacrificing his child. If Agamemnon does not unmask the guilty man and demand the sacrifice, then they are quite likely to turn on him. And his bro
ther as likely as not because Menelaus and his flighty wife started this whole mess. That would offer a kind of neatness I suppose – the man who started it all and his brother the man who cannot finish it in the manner he had planned and promised. Agamemnon and Menelaus would either be killed or forced to run and hide. Then the armies, carrying their generals along with them, would start to look for a new leader who is not held back by the hand of the Goddess and who, therefore, can take them to Troy, riches and glory.’
‘The armies would do this? The common soldiers?’ asked the High Priestess.
‘Certainly. Unless their kings and generals can hold them back. Achilles could, I could, Nestor could, well his sons could; Odysseus obviously could, Ajax could – he could probably do it on his own he’s so huge. But other than half a dozen more who have been staying on top of their troops, the rest wouldn’t stand much of a chance if the armies turned against them.’
‘Interesting,’ said Karpathia. ‘That is a dynamic I had not considered. I must discuss it with Pythia and see what the Oracle has to say. But the first thing we must do is to find out who the new corpse was when he lived and, if possible, why he died. He lies in the Groves of the Goddess and we simply cannot ignore that fact. It is even possible that the Goddess in some way called him to herself and allowed him to be discovered on sacred ground in order to move matters forward out of this impasse. Do you wish to accompany us, King Diomedes?’
‘At first I thought not. The conversation we have just enjoyed has emphasised to me quite forcefully that I should be hard at work making sure my four thousand Argive soldiers know precisely who commands them and how vital it is for them to obey his orders. But now I’m not so sure. Whether or not the Goddess is using us all as her puppets as you say, there is something going on here that doesn’t feel right and in the absence of Odysseus, I think I’d better offer whatever extra assistance I can.’
