Hand of Fire

by Judith Starkston

  She stood beside her father and Euenos on the prow of the king’s ship as he addressed the men gathered on the shore, more than two hundred strong. An offshore wind blew back her veil and caught her hair. They’d have good sailing. She heard the king’s voice but not the words as she looked out at the faces below her. How many would not return?

  When the king finished, the priests performed the sacrifices on the shore and she said a prayer for the warrior’s safety. Then her father and she walked toward Glaukos’s ship. They stood in the shadow of the black hull. He brushed some of her unruly hair out of her eyes, then hugged and kissed her. “Goodbye, Briseis.”

  “Stay well, Papa.”

  He climbed onto his ship. She watched as men shoved the hulls into the water and maneuvered with the oars away from the shore. The foremost ships hoisted their sails, and gradually the fleet glided up the bay. Somewhere out there, she thought, Achilles was sailing around. Please do not let him cross this fleet’s path.

  She watched her father standing on the foredeck of his ship, his arms moving as he issued commands. She thought he looked back at her once. His ship gained speed as the sails billowed out, and she could no longer distinguish people on deck.

  She looked around her, at the channels the hulls had cut into the beach of rounded stones and at the men harnessing oxen to now-empty wagons. She turned back to the sea. “Kamrusepa, you may not like this expedition, but please, for the sake of my mother’s devoted service, keep my father safe and bring him home soon.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Attack

  Briseis kept to her duties as healing priestess, endured what she had to from her husband’s visits, and left Mynes to rule as he would. Through the palace steward’s reports and Eurome’s eavesdropping, she heard about the difficulties Mynes’s decisions caused, but said nothing. Even when he ignored the advice of those remaining in Lyrnessos who now formed the Council, she kept silent. She could not pay the price of contradicting him, nor could she have influenced him to change his mind.

  Fortunately for the running of the state, Mynes spent most of his time training the city guards, not interfering with the Council’s work. The guard, a group made up of younger sons of peasants with no land to work, did not fight like the noble warriors. They were not trained in hand-to-hand battle with shield and sword as were the men who had gone to Troy. They didn’t need to be. When the guard was placed strategically on Lyrnessos’s sturdy walls and armed with the spears and bows they had learned to use as boys to hunt for food, they could hold off a strong force if the city were attacked. Since Euenos’s departure, Mynes had developed grand notions of what he could train the guard to do, and Briseis let this ambition occupy him as the winter months crept by and spring once again arrived in the outside world if not in Briseis’s heart.

  One day Briseis was called outside the city to attend on a farmer’s wife in labor. The farmer came in after a time and said that her brother waited outside to speak to her when she was available.

  Bienor had come to tell her about a scene with Mynes earlier that day—and to warn her. Mynes had stored up a fierce resentment against Bienor and Adamas, and it had boiled over that morning. Mynes had insinuated that they had arranged to be left home out of fear, and somehow Mynes decided to blame them for his being kept from Troy. Briseis’s heart sank. She worried her brother, who could do nothing for her, would guess that Mynes included her in that blame.

  Mynes, Bienor told her, had screamed at Adamas and him that morning in front of the city guard, calling them cowards, frightened women, too terrified to go into battle. Screeching that he would show them what battle felt like, he drew his sword and lunged at them. Bienor told her they avoided a fight by fleeing. No doubt Mynes was boasting he’d run them off. Briseis saw the sting of this accusation of cowardice in Bienor’s eyes.

  “We won’t be able to come to the palace to visit you any more,” said Bienor. “It will infuriate Mynes and I’m not sure I could stop myself from fighting back next time.”

  “You can’t let Mynes insult you like this.”

  Bienor shrugged. “I’ve watched Mynes work himself up before—never this far, it’s true—but he’ll keep choosing fights until he finally starts to calm down. It’s never a good idea to be in one of the fights he picks. I’ve learned. Step back and wait. Things will get better eventually. Adamas and I will have to take the insults for a time, but he’ll want our friendship later and he’ll make it right. He’s the king. What else can we do? Briseis, you need to be careful while he’s like this. Has he been upset around you?”

  She couldn’t look her brother in the eye when she lied. “I’ll be fine.”

  She suspected he didn’t believe her, but what could he do? Stand guard at her bedroom door and deny her husband access? All they could do was try to avoid direct confrontation that would increase Mynes’s fury.

  Bienor’s warning ate at her. Was Mynes growing even more violent? She felt like she teetered on a cliff edge. Bienor believed Mynes’s behavior would settle with time. She cast about for some way to escape until then. Her father had left her brothers behind to protect her, but Mynes had separated her from them. They couldn’t come to the palace, but perhaps she could retreat to her father’s estate.

  Mynes grumbled constantly about the need to arm the city guards with proper swords. In his complaints Briseis saw an excuse to stay for a time at her father’s house. Milos had always been the most skilled blacksmith, and now he was the only one left in Lyrnessos, since the others had gone with the king to maintain their arms.

  At dinner that evening with Mynes, Briseis pretended to express her sympathy with the guards’ lack of noble weapons. She suggested she consult Milos about making some to fill this need. Mynes would never admit it aloud, but even he understood that Briseis knew far more about metalworking than he did. She thanked the gods for Mynes’s ignorance about the quantity of ore that would be needed. No such supplies remained in her father’s storerooms, but Milos could get started with a small quantity and pacify her husband. In her conversation with Mynes about arranging the manufacture of weapons, she never mentioned her brothers. She emphasized she would need several days to plan the work with Milos—difficult without her father’s expertise, but she’d do her best. Mynes gave her seven days. Her duties running the palace household could be left in Hatepa’s hands for that long, he allowed.

  Briseis spent the days at her father’s estate feeling like she could breathe again. She could feel the renewal of spring when she walked on Mount Ida’s familiar paths. Milos agreed to reuse some bronze they had and make a few swords to please Mynes. On one of the days, she went with Iatros to take care of a sick family. It turned out to be bad meat they’d eaten—an easy cure—but the children needed care, and she loved watching Iatros nurse them. She felt alive again. She enjoyed sitting around the familiar hearth, listening to her brothers tease each other. She stayed silent with them more than she used to—too many hurts she could not share. The restraint saddened her, but the time away restored her.

  After the seven days she had to return. She hoped Bienor was right and Mynes’s madness would have calmed. Eurome and she walked slowly back to the palace, escorted by three menservants. Briseis had turned down the offer of a cart. She was in no hurry. The sun fell softly on her face. A wind made the woods alive with movement and filled the air with the scent of the wildflowers dotting the meadows. If only she could stay forever outside among the mountains.

  As they drew near the city walls, guards rushed out. “Lady Briseis, come inside.” They hurried her along, almost carrying her in their haste. “Reports of Greeks nearby. The prince has ordered the men to prepare for battle.”

  “Battle? Why aren’t you taking your positions on the walls? Close the gates! Defend Lyrnessos!”

  “Lord Mynes commanded us to arm for battle outside the Great Gate.” Briseis drew back from him. He must have misunderstood the orders. Euenos had trained the city guards to defend the walls. Then s
he understood what Mynes’s training sessions with the guard and his desire for swords meant. He intended to confront the Greeks head-on. He was really that foolish. She had to stop him.

  She ran through the gates but halted almost immediately, blocked by the chaotic crowd already gathered in the marketplace square. Men and women poured down each street and alley, and Briseis realized the rumor of the Greeks must have spread. Voices shouted questions, screamed in panic. Children cried. Frightened family members clung to each other. No one understood what was happening. Why leave the gates open? Why didn’t the guards take their posts on the walls?

  A war cry cut through the noise. Briseis looked up the hill toward the palace. Mynes in his chariot dashed down the main road and the crowd scrambled to get out of his way. Behind him ran more guards, trying to keep up.

  Briseis held her ground before the city gates, her arms outstretched toward her husband. Mynes raced at her. He raised the whip and lashed the horses, making no attempt to avoid her.

  “Lord Mynes,” she shouted. “This is madness. Command your men from the walls. Follow your father’s plan.”

  He held his course straight at her. What words to persuade? No time for flattery and false deference. Despite him, the horses slowed and shied sideways to avoid her. She grabbed the leads, pulling hard to stop the horses, her feet skidding out from under her.

  “Get out of my way, you bitch. I won’t hide like a woman behind walls.”

  She held on, struggling to think of something to say to him that would keep the guard inside the city. Mynes slashed his whip across her face and chest, knocking her to the ground. The crowd gasped. Hands pulled her out of the way as the chariot lunged forward. Mynes screamed another war cry. His men flooded after him. Euenos’s decision to leave Mynes behind bore this deadly fruit.

  Blood ran into her eyes from the gash the whip had cut. She pressed it with the upper edge of her cloak and turned to the palace steward who had run to her aid. He stared at her, dumbfounded.

  The steward helped her up. “How could Lord Mynes—even he…”

  Eurome pushed her way through the crowd and clutched Briseis’s arm.

  “That doesn’t matter,” said Briseis. “We must protect the city as best we can.”

  “How? When herdsmen came to warn Lord Mynes that Greeks, led by Achilles himself, stole herds and moved this direction, Mynes ordered all of the guard to arm for battle. The palace commander tried to reason with him, but…”

  “All of the guard? He left none to protect the palace citadel?” The steward shook his head. Eurome groaned. Briseis felt desperate. The last refuge of her people, now stripped of its strength. The palace storerooms held the people’s grain. Even if the women avoided slaughter or capture, they would starve.

  They had been doomed by the shepherd’s mention of Achilles. Of course Mynes had insisted on a direct attack. He must deliver Achilles’ deathblow.

  She saw Mynes in the open space below the city walls, shouting orders from his chariot. She turned to her steward. “We must use what we have to protect the city if Mynes is not victorious.”

  “Perhaps the Greeks took the herds to their ships and left.”

  She shook her head and pointed to the wooded hillside that fell away from the city. In the distance she saw the movement of men. Mynes had better hurry his guard into formation. He had the advantage of being at the top of the hill, but the Greeks already climbed the slopes.

  As Mynes’s chariot raced back and forth organizing his men, the sun glinted off the gold on his helmet. She saw an answering gleam flash from the trees. Which Greek would wear brilliant armor if not Achilles? How had the bards described him—burning with fury like the sun? Their greatest foe had arrived.

  Briseis climbed onto a stone plinth dedicated to the gods of the city. She called out to her panicked people. “Together we must defend our city if the worst befalls and Lord Mynes is not victorious.” She pointed to a group of men, nearby shopkeepers standing in a worried huddle. “Close and bar the Great Gate. Every man and boy old enough to shoot a bow and throw a spear, bring your weapons and climb the walls. Defend your city. Our walls will protect us.”

  The crowd cheered her. The huge wooden gates, reinforced with sheets of bronze, swung closed and the wooden bar shot home under the force of four men’s strength. Briseis looked at the terrified faces stretching across the marketplace plaza.

  “To the walls! Women, provide assistance to our fighters and pray to the gods.” She jumped down from the plinth and spoke to her steward. “We must defend the palace.”

  A group of nobles too old to have gone to Troy entered the marketplace. The unaccustomed weight of their armor made their steps unsteady. Their bows bobbed on their shoulders like broken limbs. One nobleman cried out, “We have defended our city before. May the mighty Stormgod breathe strength into our limbs to keep Lyrnessos safe once more.” He climbed the ladder to the tower by the gate.

  A few men, Briseis knew, could hold off many because to reach the gate the attackers had to charge up a ramp that ran underneath the defensive towers. Above them would be those aged archers. Perhaps their experience would count, if their eyesight was still sharp enough to find a target. The elderly nobleman had prayed to the Stormgod. As she ran to the palace, Briseis begged Kamrusepa, protector of their city, to keep her people safe.

  When the steward, Eurome and she reached the palace, they gathered the few menservants who had not fled to their families and sent them up ladders to the citadel walls. Briseis counted seventeen, some more boys than men, too few to man the gates of the palace, not to mention the towers and stretches of walls in between. Once the Greeks realized how few men guarded the walls, they would send men up on ladders at the unguarded places. The steward had been right—removing the palace guard left the citadel defenseless. But for the sake of the people’s grain, she had to try.

  “We’ll also place the women servants on the walls to sound the alert when they see Greeks scaling them.”

  The steward nodded. “Tell them to bring heavy pots. They can slow the attackers by flinging them down.”

  That’s what it’s come to, she thought, women defending the palace with cooking pots. Lady Goddess, Kamrusepa, strike down the Greeks with dire sickness. Weaken them so that they cannot hold their spears but crumple under the blows of all who fight to protect Lyrnessos. She reached up to the burning places on her cheek and chest where Mynes’s whip had struck her.

  She sent Eurome to warn Maira. She would need to prepare Hatepa, though they would keep what was happening from the queen for now. Then she started up the ladder to a defense tower.

  A tremendous crack rang out and the ground shook beneath her. It felt like a lightning strike, dangerously close, but the sky was clear blue. What had happened? She climbed to the top and looked toward the Great Gate of the city. Where the wooden beams and stone supports should have been, a cloud of dust and debris arose.

  What force could have pulled down the massive gate in so little time? The men, few as they were, could harry the attackers from above the gate, inflicting enemy losses so great most leaders would choose to withdraw.

  She saw a huge warrior standing on the rubble, his sword held high, the morning light reflecting fiery gold off his full-length shield. She knew then. Mynes was dead. Nothing stood between Achilles and Lyrnessos.

  She raced down the ladder.

  As she reached the ground she yelled to the servants hurrying to their posts. “The Great Gate is down. We must gather everyone and escape from the city and head to the sheep camps. No point defending the palace. Achilles knocked down the city gate as if it were a pile of kindling.”

  Servants ran to call the others from the walls. Briseis hurried inside to get Eurome, Maira and Hatepa. She tried to appear calm. The less frantic Hatepa became, the faster they could escape.

  Maira stood at the top of the stairs outside the queen’s chamber. “I heard a crash.”

  “The city is taken. We’re leaving.
I’ll help you with Hatepa.”

  “Lord Mynes—?”

  Briseis looked up at Maira’s intelligent face. “The warrior Achilles has battered down the Great Gate. Some of the guard may have run in retreat ready to regroup later, or perhaps been taken prisoner, but Mynes lacked neither courage nor recklessness. I think he would not have given up the fight until he was killed.” Maira nodded. She turned back toward Hatepa’s room.

  Briseis pushed aside the door curtain. “Lady Hatepa, your son has asked you to come with me quickly outside the city.”

  The queen fidgeted in her chair. “My son? Outside the city? What are you saying? What is that noise I heard? What is that cut on your face?”

  “Your son is fighting the Greeks. I am sure he will soon drive them off, but he commanded me to take you to safety.” They pulled the queen to her feet, ignoring her protests. Eurome handed Briseis her healing satchel.

  Hatepa began to cough. “I must sit down. Why are you dragging me around?” She batted at Maira and Eurome.

  Eurome looked the queen in the eye. “Queen Hatepa, unless you wish to be skewered by a Greek spear, you’d better walk. There are no servants left in the palace. Come with us or stay alone to greet the Greeks.”

  Hatepa’s eyes bulged wider than usual. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish stranded on the shore. For a moment Briseis wondered if she was unable to breathe, but then she squawked, “How dare you—”

  “Eurome is right, Queen Hatepa,” Briseis interrupted. “We wish no disrespect, but you can come now or be left behind. We cannot endanger others to suit you.” Hatepa stopped resisting.

  Outside in the main courtyard, the remainder of the household staff had gathered, men and women with some children. Such a large group would have trouble getting through streets jammed with fleeing townspeople. She could hear screams rising from the lower city. They had to get out. Greek warriors could be climbing the hill toward the palace right now. Everyone looked at her.