Oracle

by Jackie French

  Nikko began to dive forward, intending to tear apart the ruins with his hands, when something rustled above him. He stopped and looked up.

  Thetis hung from a tree branch by her hands, her bare feet still clean from her last bath. She peered down at him, half scared and half excited.

  How had she leaped that far? Not only leaped, but grabbed the branch. Even as he watched she let one hand go and waved him to come over to her.

  He stumbled to his feet, still unsteady. He held his hands up to catch her. But instead she swung herself back and forth to gain momentum, then let go and flew down, her slim bare feet landing on his shoulders. She dropped her hands to him, and he grabbed her wrists as she somersaulted through his arms and down.

  Dimly he heard cheers that weren’t there. No one was watching except Orkestres…who made the finger sign against evil. ‘She knew the earthquake was coming.’ His voice was quiet. ‘Is she a witch?’

  He took a step back.

  ‘No!’ cried Nikko.

  Thetis glanced up at him. Her hair was dusty from the rubble. She gestured to her ears, and then her eyes, and shook her head.

  Orkestres looked wary. ‘What is she saying? Do you understand her?’

  ‘I think she is saying that there were things she didn’t hear, didn’t see.’ Nikko tried desperately to find the words to convince him. ‘She told me once she’d noticed that birds fly away before an earthquake. She must have seen them do that here.’

  Orkestres stared at her. ‘A wise woman once told me that animals can sense an earthquake coming.’ He looked at Thetis sharply. ‘No magic?’

  Thetis shook her head.

  Orkestres’s face changed to relief too quickly. We are important to him, thought Nikko. Even if Thetis was a witch he’d find a way not to notice.

  Orkestres laid a hand on Nikko’s head. ‘Men are twigs in the waves when the gods shake the earth. I’m glad the girl was watching.’ He looked around, trying to make sense of the chaos behind them. ‘I must see if I can help. People may be trapped. But you stay here. You belong to the High King now. You’re not bad for a beginner,’ he added to Nikko. ‘But that jump of your sister’s was inspired. Stay,’ he said again, then strode off into the ruins of the palace.

  It was afternoon when they left the shattered village. The sun was shining through a red dust, and the soft coos of doves were singing over the sobs of those who had lost loved ones. Dead and living had been pulled from the rubble. There were enough left of their friends to tend them, and enough houses where nothing had fallen but thatch. The King’s men could do nothing more here except be a burden on the survivors.

  The tribute train stretched out longer than the village now.

  Pony after pony, weighed down with panniers of grain; packs of what Orkestres said was cloth; big pots stoppered with cork and leaves and filled with oil or wine; and King’s men herding the cattle and the goats, trying to stop them straying off the road and into the orchards or forest.

  And this, it seemed, was only one of the High King’s tribute forays; he had sent his men into every corner of the kingdom.

  Nikko walked next to Orkestres, holding Thetis’s hand so she didn’t get lost in the crowd of people and animals. But as the sun forged across the sky the procession began to straggle, and grew longer. They were no longer jostled on each side now. For a while Thetis skipped, and once turned a cartwheel, to the guards’ amusement. Finally she grew tired, and plodded beside Nikko. But her small face stayed curious, her gaze drinking in everything as they passed.

  There were no more villages—or not on the path they took. No little village could feed all these men, and have grass for all these animals, thought Nikko. Instead they stopped each afternoon, when the men’s shadows grew as long as their owners, the guards taking turns to collect wood, or keep the animals safe during the night.

  A goat was killed for meat and basted on the fire; raisins and figs and hard dried bread were taken from the panniers. Each slept wrapped in his cloak, swords and spears at his side, except for Nikko, and Thetis, who had no cloaks, and were given cattle hides for the night.

  The ground was colder than the bed platform at home, but Nikko was tired enough to sleep on anything, and so was Thetis. Orkestres though was haggard every morning, the shadows under his eyes dark as the thunder clouds behind the mountain back at home.

  On the third day the country changed. Forest gave way to scattered trees, and open country where shepherds watched mobs of goats and cattle and new animals the colour of dust and rocks, smaller, rounder and hairier than goats.

  ‘Sheep,’ said Orkestres, when Nikko asked what they were. ‘One sheep gives as much thread for weaving as ten goats, and the meat is fattier, too…’ He grinned. ‘Your village is so high and rough only goats can live there.’

  The hill in front of them was growing closer now. Something strange ran around the edge of it, like a thick yellow band of rock. ‘And that,’ said Orkestres, before Nikko could ask another question, ‘is a road. Roads are made wide and smooth enough for carts and chariots.’

  ‘What’s a cha—’ began Nikko.

  Something was rumbling down the road. It looked like a box, but the biggest box Nikko had ever seen, pulled by a giant ox, tethered to it in some way. Big round things rolled underneath.

  ‘A cart,’ said Orkestres. ‘Close your mouth before you swallow a fly. You’ll learn. But you don’t have to learn it all at once. I’m tired. At least your sister doesn’t ask questions all the time.’

  Nikko looked over at Thetis, who was still studying the cart. I bet she thinks more questions than I speak, he thought. I bet she had worked out what that cart thing was before Orkestres told us.

  It was easier going on the road. Nikko could walk without watching where his feet went, and the ponies trotted more happily now too, knowing perhaps the end of their journey was in front of them. Occasionally another cart passed them, piled with bales of wool and jars of wine or oil. There were almost no trees now, except a line of tall saplings that looked like they’d been planted two by two along the road. Their leaves hung low so late in the year, yellow as the soft autumn light.

  Nikko sniffed. There was an odd smell, like old meat but sweeter. The ponies seemed nervous too, tossing their heads and trotting faster, despite their burdens.

  The road curved around the hill. Suddenly the ponies stopped. A line of King’s men stood across the road, swords at their sides, javelins and shields in their hands.

  ‘Stop in the name of Atreus, High King of Mycenae, and lord of all lands!’

  We’ve already stopped, thought Nikko. He glanced up at Orkestres. The acrobat’s face was white.

  ‘Don’t let your sister see,’ he whispered urgently. ‘Cover her eyes. And turn away yourself.’

  Nikko reached up and put his hands over Thetis’s eyes. She let him—Nikko suspected Orkestres knew she would have nudged away if he had covered her eyes himself.

  But Nikko couldn’t look away. What was happening here?

  Two of the saplings had been bent over the road, each held down by one of the soldiers. As Nikko watched another soldier tied a young man’s feet to the top of one of the trees, and then tied his waist to the second tree as well.

  The young man screamed. There were no words, just noise and pain and horror.

  ‘Shut your eyes!’ cried Orkestres. ‘Now!’

  Nikko obeyed automatically. The scream grew more frantic. There was a word now. ‘No! No. Nooooooooo!’

  Something ripped across the air, like an eagle swooping low. He felt warm drops on his face, something slimy on his hand…

  He opened his eyes.

  The saplings were upright again. Something red dangled from them: a leg, an arm…blood everywhere. Dripping from the two halves of the body, dripping from the trees. Nikko wiped his face automatically, then realised he was no longer covering Thetis’s eyes.

  Her face was white, the lips pressed so hard together that they looked white as well. She s
tared at the trees, the head, then slowly gazed at the guards who’d travelled with them.

  Some looked sickened, like Orkestres. Others laughed, or joked. The ponies jostled each other nervously. Even when the guards pulled their tethers to steady them, the animals showed the whites of their eyes.

  ‘You can go now.’ The soldiers stood back to let them pass.

  They guards pulled the ponies’ tethers. The tribute train began to move again, past the body.

  ‘Who was he?’ whispered Nikko.

  Orkestres looked around to make sure none of the guards could hear him. ‘A thief. A murderer perhaps. Or maybe just someone who angered the High King.’

  ‘When will they let his family bury him?’ There had been no family to watch, thought Nikko. No one to cry, or grieve.

  ‘They won’t. He’ll hang there till the crows eat his flesh, till his bones fall for the wolves.’

  ‘But…but he can’t!’

  The ghosts of unburied men roamed the world, wailing and calling out for vengeance.

  ‘You will see others like him,’ said Orkestres quietly. ‘Bones hanging from the trees. That’s why this line of trees is here, along the road to Mycenae, where any who might challenge the High King’s might can see them. The bodies are a warning—please the High King or die. But never mention them. Never.’ He shot them a glance. ‘Now do you see why you need to please the High King? All you have ever known is a village chief. But the High King rules by the favour of the Mother. He is all-powerful. Always. Everywhere.’ Orkestres touched the gold chain at his throat. ‘But if you do please him, life can be good.’

  Thetis leaned over and vomited neatly onto the side of the road.

  Orkestres waited till she had finished, and a mob of goats passed them, then pulled up a handful of grass and wiped her face. He picked her up and cradled her in his arms. To Nikko’s surprise she accepted it, snuggling down as if for comfort.

  ‘You said your knees hurt if you carry anything.’

  ‘Just for a while,’ said Orkestres softly. ‘Until we pass the trees. Some things are hard for little girls to see. Men can bear them better.’

  They walked in silence around the hill. The autumn grass was pale, and drooped in small gold tufts as the sun shone through it. Small towers rose above them, each manned by a pair of guards gazing out across the hills and plains. Nikko kept his eyes carefully averted from the trees along the road. But still he felt he could hear screams whispering in the wind, and the muttering of ghosts with no earth strewn on their graves.

  At one of the towers the men herding the goats turned off, and waved farewell to their comrades. The goats, it seemed, were to graze out here, and not go on to Mycenae. The rest of the tribute train kept walking. Nikko soon missed the bleating. It had sounded like home. His family’s betrayal was still raw: a knife wound that would reopen many times in the years ahead. But he did, nevertheless, miss what had been familiar.

  The sun hung low and red, turning the road orange, when they turned the final corner. Nikko caught his breath. He felt Thetis shiver in front of him.

  Walls, so vast they must have been built by giants. The palace rose above them all, turrets painted red, walls white, columns striped in all colours, everything tinged gold by the sun.

  Men stood on the walls, so far up they looked like children’s dolls. Their javelins seemed thin as threads of goat hair. Above it all sheer cliffs blazed back the sun, as though to yell, ‘Invade me if you dare!’

  ‘Mycenae. The House of the Lion,’ said Orkestres. ‘It will never fall while men remain.’

  The road curved again. It was even wider now. Then suddenly it narrowed between stone walls. The road was no longer cobbles pressed into mud, but great square stones, so closely butted together it seemed like one long rock. Ahead of them a great gate loomed, high enough for a laden cart to pass through, narrow enough, thought Nikko, to stop an army. The great stone of the lintel was carved with two imposing mountain lions rearing against a pillar. The pillar was red. The lions shone golder than the sun.

  The King’s men sounded cheery now. They’re home, thought Nikko, or nearly. He looked across at Orkestres. He too seemed to have relaxed, as though seeing a warm bath and a soft bed ahead of him.

  Guards peered down as they entered the gate. One of their own men saluted, and got a wave in return.

  The narrow road with its tall walls continued. It would be easy to spear anyone down here, thought Nikko, to capture any enemy of the High King.

  All at once they reached two gateways, smaller than the big lion gates. Orkestres turned to go down to the right, with Nikko and Thetis. He waved his hand to their companions. ‘Good rest and good homecoming,’ he called.

  ‘Wait!’ The most senior of the guards ran down to them. ‘All slaves go straight to the palace. You know the rules.’

  Orkestres stared. ‘My good man, these children are only valuable because I can train them. They need to come with me.’

  ‘The children are tributes, same as barley or goats would have been,’ said the man stubbornly. ‘They’re slaves like any others. The Chamberlain will decide what the King wants with them.’

  ‘What does the King need most? A couple of untrained slaves, or acrobats to make him smile?’

  ‘Not my business to decide. Nor yours.’

  Nikko put his arms around Thetis. She felt cold, and very still.

  ‘Very well,’ said Orkestres shortly. He took Thetis’s hand, then Nikko’s, as though to stop the other man leading them away. ‘I will see the Chamberlain myself. Will that suit you?’

  The man nodded.

  The three of them turned left, and began to walk along the paving stones, up toward the shadows of the palace.

  CHAPTER 11

  It was growing dark—darker still in the shadows of the walls. On either side Nikko could see through open doorways and windows into rooms, lit by hearth fires; people lying on their sleeping platforms, or eating final hunks of bread. His stomach rumbled. They had missed the midday meal so they could get to Mycenae by dark.

  Some of the rooms were dark, with no fires lit. But every building was larger than any in their village; many larger even than the hall where they had stayed on the way, rising up higher than any house he’d ever seen.

  The smells were strange too. Along with the normal smells of people—meat being grilled, fresh bread (his stomach rumbled again)—were other scents: animals he had never smelled before and fragrances more powerful than any from the wildflowers on the mountain back home, though there were no flowers to be seen.

  The road curved past the palace, its white stone walls still shining high in the last of the sunlight. A massive staircase led upward to what looked like a broad terrace. But Orkestres walked instead to giant wooden door, similar to the doors back at the hall, with bronze hinges and studs, and pulled it open.

  It looked like a cave inside, but was bigger than any cave Nikko had ever seen, and lit by the strange flaming torch things he had seen on the journey here. The shadows ran and twisted and the flames wavered in the breeze as if alive.

  Or the shadows of the dead, thought Nikko—thinking of the bones along the road—gathered here to haunt the men who killed them.

  But no one else seemed worried by the shadows. Even Thetis leaned forward, more fascinated by the giant room’s contents than afraid. There were huge pots, bigger than Nikko had ever seen, sealed and rubbed shiny and waterproof with beeswax. Cheeses hung from the ceiling. Further in, white shapes were suspended in the darkness. Nikko peered closer. He could make out legs and heads…

  For a moment he thought they were men, dead men hung here below the palace. But then he realised they were pigs, ready to be roasted, just like any wild boar caught back at the village was hung up and stripped of guts and bristles.

  It was only then he saw the man. He was short, Nikko’s height perhaps, but round as an oil pot. It was impossible to tell his age. His head was bald, his skin too puffed with fat to show wrinkles,
blown out like the pig’s bladder the village boys sometimes kicked around the huts. His eyes looked like a pig’s eyes too: small and intelligent. He held a slab of wet clay in one hand and a stick in the other. On either side of him stood two men with bare chests, wearing white kilts, each also holding a clay tablet and stick.

  ‘So, that makes five hundred pots of barley, and half that of wheat…not enough to see us through winter, but the ships from Euboea and the other islands haven’t come in yet.’ He glanced up at Orkestres. ‘So, you are back, Orkestres. How was the tribute gathering this year? But what are these?’ He stared at Nikko and Thetis. ‘I gave no orders to bring back slaves this year. Slaves must be fed, and the harvests have been poor. As it is half the looms will be silent by spring, and the weavers must still be fed.’

  ‘My Lord Chamberlain.’ Orkestres stepped forward. ‘It is all my responsibility. These children have talent. Great talent. Under my instruction they will be a marvel. Surely it is the heart of both our jobs to see His Majesty happy.’

  ‘It is my job to see that no one in Mycenae starves this winter.’

  Orkestres glanced at Nikko and Thetis, then at the Chamberlain’s assistants. They were making no pretence of counting the pots now. ‘Perhaps if we discussed this privately?’

  The Chamberlain stared, then shrugged. He stepped further into the big room, beyond the light of the torches. Orkestres followed him, gesturing to Nikko and Thetis to stay where they were.

  Nikko could hear the ponies nearby; the guards must have been unloading them. One neighed softly, scenting his stable perhaps, and was answered by another down the hill.

  ‘Don’t worry. Orkestres will keep us safe,’ whispered Nikko. He didn’t know if he was reassuring Thetis or himself.

  At last Orkestres stepped back out of the darkness. He nodded to the men with their clay tablets, took Thetis’s hand, then Nikko’s. He began to march them down the hill.