Cursed by the Sea God

by Patrick Bowman

  “We have to tell him he’s wrong,” I said, tugging her along the hallway toward the throne room. Astonished faces peeked out at us from doorless entranceways to either side as we rushed past.

  The throne room had no doors, and I burst in with Ameera in tow. The king was sitting on his gold-inlaid chair against the opposite wall. Two lumbering servants moved to intercept us but we dodged around them.

  “Most regrettable, I know, but order must be maintained,” he was saying to Lopex, seated on a divan nearby. “Otherwise the people would do what they liked, and then where would we be?” He reached for a gold goblet on a side table, but stopped as he saw us standing there, surprise in his filmy blue eyes.

  “What? What is it?” His face took on a slow frown. “You’re the girl with the pears, aren’t you? Why aren’t you outside?”

  He tilted his head for a moment, eyes closed, mumbling to himself. Opening his eyes again, he turned his head to look at me, his expression clouding over. “You did that? You freed her?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yes, Your Inclemency,” I answered carefully. “But for a good reason. She—”

  He held up a hand. “Tut, young man,” he said. “Slaves answer only what was asked.”

  “But she didn’t do it! It wasn’t her fault!” I blurted.

  The king tilted his head and closed his eyes again as though listening to a voice only he could hear. “Young girl of dark eye moved backward into market table,” he murmured. “Pears spilled over ground, confusion, many stepped on. She stands before you now.” He opened his eyes again. “I’m afraid, young man, you’ve made a mistake, and now I fear you must take a polishing with her.” He leaned down from his throne and patted my shoulder. “It lasts only a short while,” he said gently. “And then you may rejoin your friends. We bear no grudges here.” He sat back with the air of someone who had cleared up a misunderstanding. The courtiers clapped.

  I looked at him as he turned toward Lopex again. Rejoin my friends? What was he talking about? “NO!” I blurted.

  The king turned back to me. “Young man,” he said coldly, “I don’t know where you come from, but in my kingdom, slaves speak only when spoken to. Now, you really must do as I say or it will be the worse for you.” He turned back to Lopex. “Your slaves, are they all this troublesome?”

  Lopex spoke from the divan. “I have found that when this boy speaks, his advice is often worth listening to, Your Inclemency. What did you want to say, Alexi?”

  I hesitated, trying to understand. “Sire?” I asked. “Have you ever seen someone get—polished?”

  “I? Of course not, boy. Not for many years.” He tugged his cloak around his shoulders. “The winds were milder, and I was stronger. Now I am content to stay in the castle. My four winds, they tell me all I need to know.”

  An idea came to me. “Sire? May I have permission to leave for a moment? There is something I must show you.” The king nodded absently. I grabbed Ameera’s hand and we ran off for the exit.

  Behind me, the king was remarking to Lopex, “Excitable, isn’t he, this slave of yours. What do you think he wants to show me?”

  Ameera had the same question as we ran through the castle hallways. “Where are we going?” she panted.

  “To the pillars!” I stopped at the front entranceway to peer up at the sky, but the dark clouds had disappeared, the swirling finger gone as if it had never been. “Bones!” I shouted as I ran out into the courtyard. “Grab whatever you can find!”

  We darted around the square, snatching up the few polished bones that hadn’t been carried off by dogs, and returned to the throne room. The king peered curiously at us from under his bushy eyebrows. “Young man, I must tell you that I am losing patience. Why are you bringing those into my throne room?”

  “Please, Sire,” I said. “Do you remember who you last sent to be polished?”

  His eyebrows went up. “Of course. A king’s duty is to remember. It was three half-months ago. A boy, younger than you. He kept talking back to his mother. We couldn’t have that, could we?” The king shook his head as if in reply. “But his mother was soft. When I sent him for polishing, she began to scream. I should have had her polished along with him. Perhaps I am also too soft.”

  I dropped my armload of shining bones on the floor, and Ameera dropped hers beside mine. “I don’t think so, Sire,” I said quietly. “This is what was left of him, afterwards.”

  The king peered down at the pile of bones, blinking. “Bones? Now why would that be?” He looked up at me. “Once again, young man, you are mistaken. Those are animal bones.” He waved me away. “Mark him for extra polishing. He has wasted my time.”

  Two round-shouldered eunuchs appeared from somewhere and began to drag me toward the door, but Ameera darted in to pluck something from the pile. “Sire, look at this!” She held the bone out to him. “A jawbone. Not an animal’s—a child’s!” The king took it wordlessly, turning it over in his hands for some time before looking up, his expression puzzled.

  “This bone,” he said. “Where did you get it?”

  “Outside. Near the pillars. They’re always there, after . . . someone is polished.” At his uncomprehending look, she went on. “The winds do it. With sand.” She faltered. “This is all they leave.”

  He looked at her, then back to the small jawbone in his hand. Most of its tiny teeth were intact. The blood drained slowly from his face. He turned toward the courtiers, now huddled in an anxious knot.

  “Did you know?” he whispered. They said nothing. He frowned. “You knew? Why did you not tell me?”

  Someone gave an uncertain clap but stopped. A young man was pushed forward by the others. His hair was carefully sculpted and tinted to look like a bird of paradise. “Your Magnificent Inclemency,” he murmured hesitantly, bowing low. “We . . . had no idea.” As the king’s brow creased, he added quickly, “That is, we had no idea that this was not your wish.”

  “My wish? This?” He looked up at Ameera. “How . . . how many of my people have had this?” He held up the jawbone.

  Ameera shook her head. “Sire, I don’t know. Ever since I can remember.”

  The king stared at her. “That long?” he breathed, his rheumy eyes clouding. “My people. They believe I could do this?”

  The young courtier stepped forward, his ornate sandals clicking on the hard floor. “Sire?” he began, his voice sympathetic. “How terribly upsetting this must all be for you.” He pressed his fist to his mouth, thinking. “I have it, Sire—a long, refreshing bath! That’s what you need. The very thing for days like this.” The courtiers behind him murmured approval.

  The king had begun to get to his feet at the young man’s words but stopped. His expression slowly shifted, grief giving way to a growing anger that creased his brow like a gathering storm.

  “A bath, Thalpius? You think to wash this away with a bath?” The young man stepped back uncertainly.

  “All of you,” the king growled, sitting up on the throne, swelling and filling out his robes as though taking strength from his fury. “This!” he shouted suddenly, shaking the jawbone at them. “This is your doing! Too fearful to tell your king the truth. Afraid for your status.”

  He threw the jawbone to the floor where it shattered, sending teeth and bits of bone skittering across the tiles. “Get out,” he hissed, his voice shaking with rage. “Leave my palace, or by the power granted me by Zeus, you shall feel the bite of the winds yourselves!” The huddled courtiers paused uncertainly, then darted for the doorway in a clatter of sandals.

  He turned back to me, his eyes blazing. “And you, young man,” he began, his fury out of control now. “How DARE you contradict the king? Do you know the punishment for that?”

  He frowned at his words, staring at the shards of jawbone on the floor. “Contradict me. Indeed,” he added, his voice softer. “There is not a soul among my people who would have dared.” His blue eyes stared at me for several moments. “And yet you did. For that, it seems I must thank
you.” He gestured to the two eunuchs gripping my shoulders. “He may go.”

  As Ameera and I headed for the door, I heard Lopex speaking. “Your Inclemency, I truly regret that your winds have run wild. But if it is within your power, I believe I know a way to punish them and help me on my journey at the same time . . .”

  CHAPTER TWO

  There and Back Again

  WHEN I WENT OUT to the market with the kitchen slaves the next morning, the stares and whispers made it clear that the story had gone around. The candy master, a short, plump man who made a sweet treat from boiled beets, insisted on handing me a lump of his sticky product whenever he saw me. Even the Greeks looked at me with a new respect. Life as a kind of underground hero on Aeolia was a pleasant change, and I began to feel a contentment I hadn’t felt since before my father died.

  It lasted for over a month, and then one day Lopex sent for me. I followed the messenger slave into a saffron-scented chamber in the palace. Lopex was seated on the edge of a richly padded divan, the king lying on a similar bench nearby. There were no courtiers in the room, but in a corner someone was strumming a harp. I looked again, startled. The harp was playing itself, a soft, smooth sound as though all the strings were being rubbed at once.

  The king was speaking. “. . . like unruly children. Zephyros is a demon, of course, and never, never to be let loose. Notus of the south is my favourite; she is gentle, she is warm, her touch a caress against the cold slap of Boreas, or the angry scratch of Eurus from the East.” He sat up as he caught sight of me. “You there! Boy! What are you doing here?”

  Lopex answered. “I summoned him. He is my healer and message bearer. And his advice is sound, as you have seen.”

  The king nodded. “Very good. Carry on.”

  Lopex beckoned me over. “Alexi, I want you to go to the barracks east of the castle and tell the commanders of each ship that we are leaving. The king is providing water and provisions; they will be on the pier tomorrow. I want the provisions loaded and balanced, and the men ready to go by two hands past dawn, two mornings from today. Make sure the cisterns are completely topped—” he broke off as the king interrupted.

  “And for you, Odysseus, I have thought hard about your suggestion. Come with me to the tower.” Waving away the nearby slaves with their basternion, he walked out with Lopex, and I headed for the soldiers’ quarters, my head spinning. Healer. Message bearer. I caught my breath as a new title came to me. Advisor. He’d said so himself, hadn’t he? My chest swelled at the thought as I strode into the barracks.

  From the looks of the dining hall, the Greeks had done nothing but drink and fight for the last month. Along one wall were several round wooden containers, their lids pried off and dropped nearby. As I watched, a Greek soldier staggered up and dipped his goblet into a container near me. They were full of wine! No wonder I’d seen so little of the Greeks since we’d arrived. I was scanning the room for the ships’ commanders when someone clutched at a fold of my tunic.

  “Alexi?” I turned to see Pen, the young Greek soldier I’d saved after Ismaros, looking up at me with his dark calf’s eyes. He was a little taller than I was but somehow always managed to look shorter.

  “It’s so good to see you,” he added. “Were you looking for me?” He said something else but I didn’t take it in, scanning the busy room for the Greek commanders. Eventually I realized he was waiting for an answer.

  “Sorry, Pen. What was that?”

  “I said, would you like to sit down and have some wine with me?”

  “I wish I could,” I answered, still searching the room. “Lopex has asked me to carry messages for him.”

  “I understand,” he said, sounding downcast. “You’re not just a healer anymore. I hear you’re a hero now, too. You don’t need to spend time with me.”

  “No!” I said, turning to look him in the eye. “That’s not it at all, Pen. It’s just that Lopex has me doing all these tasks. I’ll try to come by later, okay? I promise.” I caught sight of a knot of commanders sitting at a corner table. “I’ve got to go.” Pen let his hand fall from my tunic as I turned to walk away.

  “You!” I called out as I approached the table where the commanders were sitting. “Lopex wants the ships and men ready to sail by two hands past dawn in two mornings. Aeolus will send provisions and water to the docks tomorrow. You must load and balance them.” My message delivered, I turned to go, but a hand yanked me back.

  “So who are you to be telling us, slave?” It was Karphos, one of the fleet commanders, a tall man with an unkempt beard and bulging eyes.

  I met his gaze confidently. “I am Lopex’s message bearer and advisor.” He glared at me and I felt emboldened to add, “But if you prefer, I can let Lopex know that you questioned his orders.”

  Karphos raised a hand to cuff me, but one of the other commanders caught his arm and muttered something to him. I caught the words hagios, the protected status that Lopex had granted me after the battle with the Cicones. Karphos let go of me reluctantly. “Don’t get too big for your tunic, boy,” he grunted. I turned to look around for Pen as I left, but he had disappeared.

  The next day Lopex kept me busy carrying messages to supervise the loading. Ameera had cleaned my tunic and pressed it flat with heated stones, something I’d never seen before, and someone in the marketplace had offered to wash and style my hair. Nobody watching would have any idea that I was still a slave.

  The Greeks were loading woven baskets of dried fish, beef and pork, along with amphoras of dates and wheels of cheese from the wharves. There were a few resentful glances in my direction, but nobody was about to risk Lopex’s wrath by trying to make me help. I was watching the soldiers struggle to lower the heavy wooden water barrels into the hold of the Pelagios when I realized that they weren’t filling the shipboard cisterns, but leaving the water in the wooden barrels.

  “Hey!” I called. The men handling the water barrel looked up. “You need to store that water in the cisterns.”

  “Do we now?” one of them called. “So what makes you the expert?”

  “Lopex’s orders,” I called back. The men didn’t move, so I added, “Or do you want him to hear about it?”

  The men shuffled their feet resentfully. “Somebody go fetch a bucket, then,” one of them muttered. Ignoring their angry glares, I watched for a little longer before going off to tell the remaining ships the same thing, smiling to myself. I could get used to this.

  At the bow of the Pelagios the following morning, watching the last of the ragged column of Greeks tramp down the street toward the harbour, I caught sight of Lopex, coming down the hill from the palace. Over his shoulder he carried a sailor’s duffle bag made of thick sail cloth, cinched shut with a narrow silver cord. The sack looked fully laden, but as he came closer I could see it buffeting as if it held a flock of wild birds. Lopex had his big hands gripped tightly around the neck as though he didn’t trust the cord.

  The king had come with him down to the docks. In spite of his simple yellow robe, he seemed more regal now than he ever had with his clapping courtiers and basternion. As he gave Lopex a final hug, I overheard his warning. “Remember this: as long as the leash is tied, control will be yours. Let it slip, and may the gods show you mercy.”

  “Men! Ship oars! Raise the sail!” On board at last, Lopex was shouting orders from the stern, where, unusually, he had seated himself. The men stared at him, wondering. Even with my limited sailcraft, I could see that there wasn’t a breath of wind to stretch the sail.

  Lopex fingered the silver cord on the sack, a humourless smile flickering across his lips. “You want wind? I assure you, there will be. Now move! Procoros, signal the other ships to raise their sails and follow. Let the Pelagios take position behind the fleet.” As Procoros turned to relay the orders, I stared at Lopex, wondering. The Pelagios always took the lead at sea.

  After some manoeuvring, the ships were positioned with their sails up. The men looked around, puzzled, while Lopex bent to ex
amine the sash on his sailcloth bag. He frowned as he noticed us watching him. “Turn around! Face forward!” he shouted. “You too, Alexi! Get below!”

  As I clambered down the ladder into the bow hold, the ship was buffeted by a powerful gust of wind, throwing me to the floor. Up top, I could hear the men cursing as they were thrown from their benches. “Eyes front! Stay at your benches!” Lopex roared. A moment later there was a second shudder, gentler. Suddenly the hull began to hum, as it did when we were running before what the sailors called a bride’s wind. From the hold I could just see the sail, suddenly full-bellied. Where had the wind come from? I climbed partway up the ladder and risked a peek forward. Through gaps in the bow railing, I could see the other ships of the fleet ahead of us. Their sails were as full as ours.

  Lopex’s voice came to me clearly. “Eyes forward, men! In a few days, we’ll be back home with our wives and sweethearts—and our wealth!”

  Months ago, back when we were still speaking, Kassander had told me how Agamemnon, the Greek king who had started the war, had coaxed a magical wind to bring his fleet to Troy ten years ago. “He sacrificed his own daughter,” Kassander had said, wiping his fingers on a tuft of beach grass by the slaves’ dinner fire. “Cut her throat, then smeared her blood on the sail with his hands. It worked, though. After two months of a solid east wind, it shifted west the same day.”

  I glanced up at the sail with a shudder. Had Aeolus commanded his treacherous winds to follow us? And if he had, how was Lopex controlling them? If what I’d seen on the island was any sign, I wanted no part of it. But at least this sail had no blood on it.

  We ran for three days before that eerie, constant gale. No gusts, no slackening, even at dusk when the day’s breezes normally died. Filled by a perfect wind, the sail was so still that it could have been carved from a slice of marble, and the ship hissed across the smooth water like a knife. The men were ordered to sleep at their benches, facing forward and slumped against one another. Even when they relieved themselves over the side, they kept their eyes to the front. Only Lopex stayed awake through it all, glaring forward as though daring the wind to slacken.