The Girl From Ithaca

by Cherry Gregory

  “I heard Agamemnon and Palamedes discuss the other leaders,” Io whispered.

  “I don’t expect my brother is very popular.”

  Io reddened. “But he’s not the only one they’re suspicious of. You know Ajax?”

  “Yes, the strong one.”

  “He’s cousin to Achilles. And he’s got a half-brother with him, Prince Teucer, as his second in command.”

  She paused briefly to see my reaction, but when I shrugged, not understanding why this should be so important, she whispered, “Teucer’s mother was a Trojan princess and sister to King Priam. So he’s half-Trojan and cousin to Prince Paris!”

  “You mean Ajax’s father was married to a Trojan princess? I hadn’t realised his kingdom was important enough to make that sort of arrangement.”

  Io leaned closer. “No, she never married him. Priam’s sister was taken as a war-prize in the last Trojan War, when Hercules invaded. She’s been kept as a concubine. Agamemnon’s told Palamedes to spy on PrinceTeucer, in case he tries to contact his Trojan family and betray us.”

  Sweat poured down the backs of the oarsmen, but we were still falling further behind the other ships. The pilot gave up counting time and called to one of the stable boys. “You lad, come up here and bring one of those shields stacked up behind you.”

  The stable boy grabbed a large bronze shield and staggered up the steps onto the pilot’s platform. Squeezing past Calchas, he slipped in beside the pilot. After a few whispered instructions, the boy pounded on the shield, the regular metallic boom becoming a guide to the oarsmen.

  “I prefer young Theo’s pipe music, but it’s working,” Io grinned, as the men began pulling together and we edged forward, slowly closing the gap on the other ships.

  Eventually we drew alongside a supply ship crammed with ox-hides and ropes. Their pilot looked across to us and shouted at his oarsmen. They responded by increasing the stroke and their ship crept ahead.

  “If that dog-faced Athenian wants a race, we’ll give it him,” yelled our pilot. “Oarsman, you row as if Hades is after us. Ready, stable boy!”

  The stable boy grinned and quickened the beat on his makeshift drum. Immediately the men rowed harder and we chased after the Athenian. We played this game of cat and mouse, first one ship in the lead and then the other, until the shape of the coastline emerged from the haze.

  At the blast of a trumpet, our pilot raised his arm and the drumming stopped, the rowers lifted their oars from the sea and slumped forward, gasping for breath. The ship started to drift with the current.

  “What’s happening?” Io whispered.

  “It was the signal. For supply ships to wait and the war ships to … to attack,” I said, my voice suddenly hoarse.

  Io and I stared at the black ships as they grouped together and then swooped down on the Trojan beach like sinister birds of prey.

  We both flinched at the sound of Calchas’ voice. “It was revealed to me last night,” he cried. “It was revealed to me last night that the first man to leap from the ships will be the first man to die.”

  A picture of a lone soldier flickered in my mind. The Trojans would surround him and hack him to death, but he’d be the first of many. The first snowflake in a storm. Ten thousand men would follow him onto Trojan soil.

  While Calchas continued with his announcements, the first ships landed and the leading warriors cleared the waves and ran onto the shore, their oarsmen grabbing their weapons and scrambling after them. Then our view was blocked by the dark mass of ships following the first surge of attack. Unable to see what was happening, it was the crash of metal that told us the battle had begun. Oarsmen whispered prayers. Several of the women sobbed.

  The horses seemed to sense our fear and grew restless. Stable boys walked amongst them, reassuring them with their familiar, soothing voices, calling some by name. Most settled again, but when a stallion yanked his head back, snapped the tethering rope and kicked out against the wooden stall that held him, more horses stamped and pushed into each other. The ship rocked, listed to one side and took on water.

  Io and I toppled from the meal sacks and rolled across the deck. Slamming into something hard, my eyes blurred. Shaking my head, I saw a beard and then a man’s face. It took me awhile to realise I’d collided with the rowers’ bench.

  “We’re sinking, I think we’re sinking!” Io cried.

  “Not yet, but we’ve got to calm the horses,” I said, looking round to see women and oarsmen rushing to grab the halters of frightened horses.

  We clambered over the upturned baskets and meal bags to the nearest animals. I found a chestnut mare squealing in fright, showing the whites of her eyes and lathered in sweat. Pulling her head down, I leant hard against her shoulder. The mare snorted in quick, desperate breaths, her body quivering. I talked to her gently and stroked her neck. Gradually her breathing slowed. A few horses were still agitated, but now it was quieter and the deck levelled again. I rubbed my mare’s nose and her ears pricked forward. I smiled. I’d found her favourite spot and knew I was in control.

  When I dared look round, I saw Io and a Spartan slave girl holding horses nearby. Oarsmen were returning to their benches, while a few men scooped out water in measured movements, the danger of capsizing over.

  A round-faced stable boy brought me a brush and a cloth to wipe down the mare. The repetitive brushing soothed her and when she began chomping on a scoop of barley, I passed on to the more skittish horses. Slowly they quietened, though the stable boys stayed close, chatting and humming songs, grooming some and giving an extra scoop of meal to others.

  The second deep blast from a herald’s trumpet brought me back to the battle and I joined Io and the Spartan girl by the side of the ship.

  The Spartan girl clutched my cloak. “Can you see Lord Menelaus? I’m here to make sure Lady Helen’s looked after on her way home, but if Lord Menelaus is killed, who’ll rescue her?”

  Scanning the coast for the red standard of Ithaca, I searched for Menelaus too. Instead, I saw Big Ajax near the ships, his tower of a shield pushing back a group of Trojans, like a bear swatting away hunting dogs. My stomach lurched when I glimpsed Odysseus’ red plume, but it merged into the blur of shields and armour and I lost him again.

  “There’s Achilles! Look at Achilles!” Io cried.

  The golden plume of Achilles was at the forefront of the attack. We watched the glint of his sword, as it swept back and forth, like a reaper’s scythe harvesting corn. His Myrmidon soldiers surged after him, into the fatal wound at the heart of the Trojan army. The defence collapsed. Only a white-plumed Trojan stood his ground, attempting to regroup his men amid the chaos. Many turned and ran, so that the warrior was left with a cluster of the bravest soldiers; a small island of defiance soon to be engulfed by the tidal wave that was Achilles. I fought back the nausea as we waited for the terrible crash of shields and the destruction of this last piece of Trojan resistance.

  It was the bray of a horn, of a higher-pitch than Agamemnon’s signal, and definitely Trojan. The illusion of the island stretched out and then disintegrated. I relaxed my grip as the last of the Trojans withdrew and the white-plumed warrior swept his chariot round and raced from the beach. Closing my eyes, I wondered if it was treachery to admire the courage of enemy soldiers and wish for their escape.

  “You can look now, our men have won.” The voice sounded so friendly, it was out of place in all the confusion and violence. An oarsman was looking down at me, smiling. I felt like crying as he handed me his water skin. “Reckon you need a drink after all that.”

  I nodded and gulped down the water.

  “Reckon even Lord Odysseus’ sister gets thirsty sometimes,” he said. He rubbed his shoulders. “This rowing and almost drowning got some of us beat. Reckon there’s a few who’ll be glad to get on dry land, even if it’s Trojan dry land.”

  When we heard more blasts from the Greek trumpet, I turned to the battle again and saw the Greeks abandoning their pursuit of the fl
eeing Trojans and regrouping on the beach. The tight knot in my stomach eased a little when I saw the red standard, with the red plume of Odysseus very close by.

  “Looks like Odysseus is safe,” I whispered to the Spartan girl. “Have you seen Menelaus?”

  She nodded. “He’s next to King Agamemnon. I think he’ll rescue Lady Helen tomorrow.”

  Agamemnon had raised his arms and was shouting, but the cheering of his troops drowned all he said. The cheers turned into chanting, the chanting of a name over and over again, like a swarm of angry bees.

  “Achilles, Achilles, Achilles!”

  Io touched my arm. “Are you all right? I thought you were going to faint on me then! Come on, we’ve seen our first battle and we’re still alive. Let’s concentrate on getting to shore now.”

  The pilot swept his arm down, yelled his command and the stable boy pounded his drum. The ship surged forward as we followed the other supply ships, edging in front of the Athenian’s ship as the prow slid against the sand. We shuffled forward in silence, waiting our turn to jump ashore. Ahead of us, women climbed out into the shallow water and waded onto Trojan land. I watched them wandering about, out of place and confused, while soldiers stripped the Trojan dead of armour and wounded men screamed for help.

  The Spartan girl jumped first and then Io pulled me to the front of the ship and we leapt together, the splash of water dappled by colours from the sun. The warmth of the sea caressed our legs. The sand was firm beneath our feet. Then the sickly stench of blood overwhelmed us.

  Chapter ELEVEN

  The War Council

  Odysseus set the Ithacan camp in the middle of the beach, with Ajax and his troops at one end and Achilles on the other. Menelaus was to the right of us while Agamemnon was on the left. In spite of my reluctance to be close to Agamemnon, it meant Io was not too far away. I caught glimpses of her, rushing to obey orders as she carried supplies from the ship, but I didn’t get chance to talk to her.

  On that first night, some of the men bedded down in the ships, whilst others were so exhausted they wrapped themselves in their cloaks and lay on the sand. Odysseus and I chose a spot next to the red ship, with an ox-hide canopy over us and a fire nearby.

  It was dark and most of the Ithacans were asleep, but I could hear Achilles’ men sawing wood at the far end of the beach.

  “What are they doing?” I whispered.

  Odysseus glanced up from cleaning his armour. “They’re building Achilles and Patroclus a wooden hut. I had a look at it earlier and they’ve planned partitions and separate living quarters. I suspect mine won’t be as big.”

  “Yours?” I said. “I thought I was sharing with you.”

  “For now, but once I can spare the men, I want Evander to take a ship and return you to Ithaca.”

  “I want to stay here, to look after you.”

  Odysseus smiled. “What can you do in a camp like this? Keep near Io and the other women for the next few days and then I’ll get you out of here.”

  I was going to object, but dark shapes were marching towards us. When they drew closer, I recognised the huge frame of Ajax. He called out, probably waking most of the camp.

  “Greetings, Odysseus, the men from Salamis are building a barricade of wood and stone to protect the camp. We will guard the boundary all night to stop Trojans creeping in and killing the army while they sleep. See how well the Great Ajax defends the Greeks!”

  Ajax stood near the fire and I stared at his huge shield. It was covered in slash marks and dents, but nothing had pierced through the many layers of hide. He grinned at me broadly.

  “Sister of Odysseus, this shield will defend you from the Trojans!” he cried, holding it up and shaking it in the air.

  Ajax was loud and big, and like most of the warriors I’d ever met, he enjoyed showing-off. But there was something I liked about Ajax. I tried to work out what that was as I watched him stride away, his weary men following him down the beach.

  “Do you like Ajax?” I asked my brother.

  Odysseus was testing the strap on his shield. “Like? I’d like him to be at my side in a fight. There’s no Greek stronger than Ajax.”

  “More than that. I mean, do you really like him?”

  “Never thought much about it, but yes, I like Big Ajax. He’s the opposite of me really. Could never lie or let anyone down, you can trust him with your life.”

  Sleep was difficult that first night. A distant howling kept me awake, and I lay thinking of home and my room overlooking the apple trees. Odysseus and a few men nearby were snoring and apart from the sentries trudging along the boundary line, everybody else seemed to be asleep.

  As the night wore on, the air chilled. Shivering, I sat up to reach for Penelope’s cloak. Something moved in Agamemnon’s camp. I stared into the darkness and saw a shadow sneak towards the centre of the sleeping soldiers. Then it disappeared.

  Odysseus woke his men long before dawn. Reluctantly I dragged myself from under the belatedly warm blanket. Then clutching a large clay water jug, I followed a group of women who looked like they were collecting water. When I saw Io running to catch up with me, I gasped in relief. I felt safer with Io around.

  “Did you see or hear anything strange last night?” I asked.

  “Only Calchas’ chantings,” she said. “And the dogs.”

  “Agamemnon’s brought his hunting hounds?”

  “No, the wild dogs out on the plain. They were howling most of the night.”

  “Nothing else?”

  Io shook her head and then paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Will you come and help me later, if you don’t mind doing this sort of thing. Agamemnon’s called a war council and Ceto and I have got to serve wine. It’ll be a good chance to listen in on what they’re planning.”

  I smiled, thankful for her request.

  We found fresh water near Achilles’ camp. Odysseus used most of the water to bathe and then drank the rest. He handed me the empty jug to refill again. By the time I’d done that journey three times more and then found a supply of bread and dates to eat, the sun was creeping above the horizon. Odysseus and I hurried to the meeting, the other leaders already sitting in a circle by Agamemnon’s ship.

  “That’s Ceto,” Io said, nodding at the tall, thin girl who was carrying plates to the circle of men. “Now, I’ll take the cups and you fill them with wine. I suppose we’d better start with Agamemnon.”

  Making my way round the circle, I poured the wine and listened to the conversation. When I came to Diomedes of Argos, I studied him as discreetly as I could. I knew him to be a good friend of my brother’s, but all their escapades had taken place far from Ithaca and I’d never met him before.

  “So you’re Neomene,” Diomedes said, a broad smile on his face. “I’m amazed. How can such an ugly man have such a pretty sister?”

  Odysseus chuckled. “It is easy, my friend. Neomene is from the better looking side of the family. Alas, I missed out on that gift and had to make do with the brains instead.”

  Ajax thumped Diomedes on the back. “Now answer that one, King of Argos!”

  “We’ve come to fight a war. I’ll have no more talk of sisters,” Agamemnon said impatiently. He stabbed his finger towards me as I moved on to serve Odysseus. “I hope this sister of yours won’t cause any more trouble.”

  “Trouble, Agamemnon? What do you mean by that?” Odysseus asked, his voice sounding deceptively calm.

  The oldest man there, King Nestor, spoke up quickly. “Agamemnon, don’t blame the girl for a joke by our ally. She’s pouring us good wine, what could be better?”

  I smiled at Nestor gratefully, filled his cup and carried on to his elder son. As I circled round the men, I heard his name: Antilochus. Antilochus had the most beautiful brown eyes I’d ever seen. When I’d finished serving the leaders, I looked up to see Phoebus watching the proceedings from beside the half completed hut. Amongst all the strangers, he felt like an old friend. I ran over and offered him a drink.
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  “I’ll take a cup, seeing that Agamemnon’s too occupied to notice,” he whispered. “And it appears Prince Ajax wants a refill.”

  Ajax pointed to my jug and then at his goblet. “It’s good wine, Agamemnon, I’ll have some more.”

  Palamedes sat next to him and sighed loudly as the big man gulped down the wine.

  Ajax belched. “Be careful with your sneering, white face, else we’ll be thinking you’re a Trojan spy. All true Greeks worship the grape.”

  Agamemnon grunted and turned to the battle plans. I’d assumed he’d have thought through his ideas already, but as he spoke, I realised it wasn’t something he’d considered yet. It was almost as if the palace cook had waited till the guests sat down at the tables, before she’d told the huntsman to go kill a stag.

  “The gods blessed us with a victory yesterday and we’ve established our camp. Supplies are almost unloaded, and the men are building shelters,” he said, his face flushed. “Ajax is in charge of the camp boundary and Diomedes and Odysseus are to organise scouting parties into Trojan land. Palamedes will manage supplies.” He rubbed his hands. “Our next step is to invade the city. What do you say Nestor of Pylos? You’ve fought many battles in your long life and attacked a multitude of cities. Stand up and share your wisdom with us.”

  Nestor looked well over fifty, perhaps nearer sixty, but he leapt to his feet like a much younger man. “We saw the walls as we sailed from Tenedos. If I was Hector, I’d keep my troops and people behind their defences and wait for the Greeks to lose patience or run out of food.”

  Agamemnon laughed a little as he turned to Achilles. “I asked him for ideas on how to defeat Troy, but he tells me how to defend it! Can you do better?”

  “We break down the gates with a battering ram, scale the walls with ropes, and invade,” Achilles said. “I will lead them.”

  Nestor shook his head. “Patience, young Achilles. Do not be misled into thinking we can do the same as Heracles. I have it on good authority that the walls have been strengthened and improved since then.”