I glanced at Phoebus but he said nothing, concentrating instead on Agamemnon and Deiphobus. At last, Agamemnon stepped forward.
He raised his hands. “Ajax and Hector have proved themselves brave warriors today. They are equal in their use of sword, as well as in brute strength and stamina. Such is their excellence, neither man deserves to die. Therefore, with night fall approaching, we will call an end to this duel and honour them both as worthy champions.”
The two armies united in cheering and calling out the warriors’ names. Hector and Ajax staggered to their feet and removed their helmets. They wiped the sweat from their faces and stood looking at each other for a long time. Then Ajax handed Hector his sword belt. Hector gave his opponent his knife.
“An exchange of gifts. A mark of respect for the other man,” Phoebus explained when he saw my surprise. “In the strange code of the warrior, it means they would view the other as a friend if it wasn’t for the war.”
“I’m not sure I understand the code,” I sighed. “They try to kill each other for half the day and then they give gifts. You’d never get two women doing that.”
“Perhaps women have longer memories,” Phoebus suggested, pulling his horses round. “Hold tight, it’s back to camp. And then we start it all again tomorrow.”
Phoebus was wrong. The next day the Greek army waited on the plain but the Trojans stayed behind the walls. There were no battles that day or for the next twenty days. The great army of Agamemnon grew restless.
Where was the glory they were promised? Where were the war prizes of gold and women?
The men didn’t want to sit around on the narrow beachhead, digging trenches and repairing ships.
They wanted war.
Chapter THIRTEEN
A Deadly Embrace
The men were growing bored and impatient, but the women in the camp settled into a routine of water collection, washing and keeping the men fed. Odysseus didn’t mention my return to Ithaca again and I found I’d more freedom than at home, meeting the other women each day when we washed at the stream.
“Achilles says he’s here to prove himself a great warrior, but the other leaders act like frightened sheep,” explained Tyro, a curly-haired slave girl belonging to Patroclus. She was the youngest amongst the women, being nearly a year younger than myself, and seemed to be enjoying the unfettered nature of camp life.
“What’s it like in Agamemnon’s camp?” a Spartan woman asked.
Io looked up from her washing. “There’s mutterings about empty promises. Not in front of Agamemnon, but I’ve heard them round the fires at night.”
The women chatted to each other as we scrubbed the clothes. Ceto started to sing and others joined in. The war drifted away and everyone relaxed. I was happy until I glanced round to see Gala, one of King Nestor’s servants.
She was looking at me anxiously. “I heard the king talking with his sons. He told them if we don’t leave Troy before the start of winter, we’ll be trapped here because of the currents and the wind and … ” She shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about the food. What would we eat? We can’t survive here all winter.”
“We’ll get more supplies. Diomedes and Odysseus are ambushing cartloads intended for Troy.”
“That’s not enough to feed the whole army. Think of the numbers,” Gala said.
“And us slave women will be the first to starve,” cried an Athenian slave, from the other side of the stream. “King Agamemnon won’t share his venison with us.”
“There’s talk of raiding the coastal towns. That’ll bring in more supplies,” I suggested.
Tyro jumped up and walked over to me. “We don’t have to be stuck here all winter. Achilles says he can win this war quickly, if the other leaders would let him. He says he can lead an attack on the walls.”
“But the walls are too strong,” I said.
Tyro reddened and stuck out her chin. “Achilles says he could break through to Troy and win the war in less than a day.”
“Achilles says a lot of things, but he isn’t always right.”
Io slipped between us. “We’re all friends, remember? Don’t let’s get involved in squabbles of the men. Besides, we’ve more urgent problems to think about. There might be a spy in the camp. The sentries saw someone climb over the fence sometime after midnight. They followed him, but lost him near the horse pens. Anyone heard or seen anything?”
“What’s he look like?” one woman asked.
Io shook her head. “It was too dark to see.”
“Could have been a Trojan coming in, ready to kill Agamemnon or Menelaus,” Tyro said, very cheerfully.
I glanced around the women, aged from Tyro up to Gala. I noticed their different expressions, some anxious, others seeming indifferent or even happy. It was impossible to know who to trust beyond Io and Ceto, and I said nothing of the dark shape I’d seen on the first night.
When I returned to the Ithacan camp, Odysseus greeted me with news that the war council was meeting in our hut. I sighed and complained he hadn’t given me enough time to ask Io or Ceto to help and I didn’t want our hut tainted by Agamemnon and the others crowding inside, arguing over the best way to kill people.
“Serve us wine and food, but stay in the background and don’t speak,” Odysseus instructed. “Agamemnon is angry enough and we don’t want Palamedes watching us more closely than he does already.”
“Sounds like you really have got something to hide.”
Odysseus stared at me, his smile disappearing. “You’ve heard something?”
I hadn’t expected him to take me seriously. I sat down and looked at his anxious face. “Nothing, nothing at all. Nothing about you. Only some talk about Ajax’s men noticing an intruder near the boundary fence.”
“Any ideas what he looks like?”
“None,” I said, “except he was short with red hair and heading for the middle of the camp.”
Odysseus rolled his eyes. “How could I get away with being a spy? You and Io would notice too much.”
Then Agamemnon and Palamedes marched inside, followed by Menelaus and Diomedes. Soon all the leaders were crammed into our hut. They sat round the makeshift table, staring at each other irritably. I placed nuts and grapes beside them and started to mix the wine.
“We came here to fight. If there’s no war, I’m returning to Phthia with my troops,” Achilles declared.
Agamemnon slammed his fists onto the table and the driftwood collapsed. The bowls of nuts and grapes flipped into the air and fell upturned onto the floor. “Damn your eyes, Achilles! You’ve no right to challenge me. The Trojans are cowering behind their walls, afraid to face us.”
“What’s the use of that if I’m not allowed to attack?” Achilles cried.
One of the clay bowls had smashed. I swept up the pieces and Agamemnon was still talking when I scooped up the nuts and the grapes from the floor. Nestor’s son dipped down to pick up a bowl that had rolled between him and his father.
I blushed as he grinned at me. Turning away, I pretended to concentrate on Odysseus as he replaced the broken table with a new piece of driftwood and then turned away to search through our basket of food supplies. I distributed the last of our nuts and figs around the table and finally I left a bowl of the rescued grapes between Agamemnon and Palamedes.
“Achilles, your reaction plays right into the Trojans’ hands,” Agamemnon was saying. He picked up one of the grapes and shoved it into his mouth. “They think they can hide in their city while we fight amongst ourselves. They expect us to give up and go home. But the Trojans have a crucial weakness. They rely on their neighbouring towns to supply them with food and weapons.” He nodded at Diomedes and Menelaus. “We’ve stopped several supply carts getting through, and they’ve helped feed our men, but it’s only a minor irritation to the Trojans. Their allies are wealthy and send more carts than we’re able to intercede. They’ll not be starved out that way.”
Ajax waved his cup and I filled it to overflowi
ng, the wine dripping over his big hand and onto the table.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
Ajax licked his hand. “It’s a good mistake to make.”
Agamemnon frowned at him and then turned back to Achilles. “Yes, a minor irritation, but we can hit them harder. You will attack the Trojan allies and destroy the source of these supplies. You can win your glory by raiding the cities of Thebes, Lyrnessus, Pedasus and Arisbe.”
Achilles had been lounging in his seat, tapping his knife against the heel of his foot. Now he sat upright and gave Agamemnon his full attention.
“And that’s only the beginning. There are twenty more cities for you to burn. Capture their women, gold, cattle and horses. Give your men their war prizes and bring in the food and women for us to share.” Agamemnon looked around the table, his eyes glinting. “Once the cities stop feeding them, the Trojans are done for. Trapped in our deadly embrace, we’ll starve them into submission.”
Chapter FOURTEEN
Ellissa
At first light the next morning, Achilles and his troops launched his fifty ships and began the brutal attack on Troy’s allies. Only four days later, he returned with ships loaded with food and gold from the first of the cities to fall. And he and four of his soldiers dragged five women captives across the sand towards Agamemnon’s hut.
“Agamemnon!” Achilles cried. “You wanted women, here they are! As the chief among us, you have the right to distribute as you see fit, but bear in mind that it was I, Achilles, who did the fighting and destroyed their city!”
Four of the women were young and stood motionless and silent outside the hut. The fifth woman was older and stood apart from them, sobbing quietly. Agamemnon looked them up and down, checking their teeth as though they were horses.
“That’s why I’d kill myself before I was captured,” muttered Io, standing at my side.
I felt sick as the leaders gathered round, waiting to see if Agamemnon would give them one of the women. He took the best looking for himself and then gave the next to Achilles.
“At least it’ll take the pressure off us, now that he’s got another playmate,” Ceto murmured.
Agamemnon gave the third to Nestor, who looked delighted with his prize, then the fourth to Ajax. The older woman, still sobbing, was left alone surrounded by the men.
“Who’ll take this one?” asked Agamemnon, “I need a volunteer who’s both blind and deaf!”
Men were laughing. Two of Agamemnon’s body-guards prodded her with the butt of their spears. I looked through the crowd and saw my brother, but he wasn’t moving. I glanced at Io and she realised what I was thinking.
“No, you can’t interfere. You can’t help her,” Io whispered.
You can’t help her. The same words I’d heard before Iphigenia was killed.
“If no one wants her …” Agamemnon said, drawing his sword.
I saw his face splattered in Iphigenia’s blood and forced my way through the men. “Odysseus will,” I shouted.
Agamemnon couldn’t hear me.
“Odysseus will take her,” I shouted again.
A group of Ithacan sailors pushed the last few men out of the way and I ran forward, towards Agamemnon and the woman.
“We’ll take her,” I cried, as Agamemnon looked round and lowered his sword.
He smiled and kicked the woman towards Odysseus. “Then you have her, she’s a fitting reward for your little army of farmers. Let’s see if you can control her more than that sister of yours!”
I led the distressed woman to our hut, Odysseus walking ahead of us and flinging the door open.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he said, once we were inside. “You want her, you can have her, but believe me, sister, if she gives any trouble, I’ll slit her throat.”
Odysseus stormed from our hut and left me alone with the woman.
“His temper doesn’t last for long,” I said, “and he’s not really that bad when you get to know him. He won’t hurt you.”
She shook her head and started to mumble words in a language I didn’t understand, so I shrugged and spoke back in Greek. She replied with a few Greek words. It wasn’t exactly a conversation, but at least she’d stopped shaking.
I pointed to myself. “Neomene.”
She repeated it as “Neo.”
Neo would have to do.
Then she pointed to herself. “Ellissa.”
After that she followed me everywhere. I walked to the stream to fetch water and she came with me, insisting on helping to carry the pitcher. Agamemnon’s bodyguards laughed when we passed them on the way, but by the time we walked back with the heavy pitcher between us, most men had lost interest and she was just another person in the camp.
When I rummaged in the storage jar to prepare the meal, Ellissa watched me for a moment. Then she pushed me gently to one side. “Cook,” she said, pointing to herself and for the first time I saw her smile.
I smiled back and pointed to myself. “Not cook!”
Odysseus returned in the evening, hungry and ready for the main meal of the day, and discovered that Ellissa had taken over. He sat at the table and tried to look stern and hard to please. His anger had diminished but he still eyed her disapprovingly. Ellissa was well aware she had to impress him and she watched his reaction as she placed the lentil soup seasoned with coriander in front of him.
Poor Odysseus didn’t stand a chance. He’d had to put up with my basic cooking since we’d set up camp and now the aroma was delicious. He continued with his severe expression until the first mouthful and then he was lost. He was smiling and looking pleased with himself, even before he cut into the roast duck.
I’d attempted to cook meat over the brazier fire and my first attempts were inedible. Odysseus had had to go to Nestor’s or Diomedes’ hut for a meal. I’d improved since then, but there always seemed to be part of the meat that was either burnt or raw. Now he started to wolf down the meal and nodded at Ellissa, without stopping to speak.
Ellissa smiled and served him another helping. Finally, Odysseus sat back in his chair and poured himself wine. He gestured for Ellissa to sit at our table and poured her a cup of wine too. Ellissa didn’t need to understand much of our language to know she was now accepted as part of our little group. She beamed back at him, repeating our names over and over again and then the Greek names for objects round the hut.
Later, as Ellissa snored loudly in the bed we’d hurriedly made up for her, Odysseus whispered, “Nestor’s new slave told him our woman was the palace cook in Arisbe. No wonder that meal was excellent. There’s some in camp who wish they’d had the sense to grab her while they could.”
“I think she’ll learn our language quickly, she’s picked up a lot today.”
Odysseus smiled. “I’m pleased with her. She’ll be a help and company for you, but most of all, I can look forward to eating again. Not that your efforts were unpleasant but …”
“I know. Mother’s and Euryclea’s training didn’t involve cooking over a camp fire in the middle of a beach.”
Odysseus grimaced. “This isn’t quite what they intended for you, but I’m hoping to get you home very soon. All of us home.” Suddenly he was serious. “Listen, I’m going out and won’t be back until after midnight. I won’t tell you the details, it’s safer you’re not involved, but we’ve been planning it for a long time and there’s no, almost no, danger.”
“If something does go wrong …”
“If we get it right, this war will be over. Medon will keep watch on the hut while I’m gone. Go to sleep and I’ll be back before you wake up.”
“Are you going into Troy? With Diomedes?”
Odysseus rubbed his forehead and sighed.
“I’m close,” I said.
“Did Io overhear?”
“No, I’m guessing, but you’ve told me lots of times that Diomedes is the best man to have at your side if there’s any danger.”
“Then you know more than you should,” Odysseus said
quietly. “It can’t be helped now and I suppose it would be cruel not to tell the rest.” He checked the door was closed and lowered his voice. “Phoebus has been working for Menelaus and had secret meetings with Antenor, the Trojan advisor who wanted to return Helen. You remember him?”
I nodded.
Paris is away seeking support from his allies tonight and Antenor has ensured he’s in charge of the gates. He’s arranging for Helen and her young attendant to be drugged when they take their evening drink. He will make sure there is a mule cart waiting for us at the outer gates, with Helen inside. She won’t wake up until she’s on the ship heading for Sparta.”
I studied him. He seemed confident and relaxed, but I knew him well enough to know it was an act. “Besides Menelaus, who’s heard about this?”
“Medon and Evander know I’ll be out of camp and they’ve probably worked a few things out. Then Menelaus told Agamemnon yesterday, but without naming Phoebus and Antenor.” Odysseus chuckled as he flung an old cloak round his shoulders. “He thinks our contact in Troy is a senior soldier. So it’s all planned and you must get some sleep. There’ll be a long journey ahead of us tomorrow.”
But I couldn’t sleep. I stood by the door of our hut and watched the campfires dying into embers and then fading away completely. Medon and Evander sat outside their tent, drinking and talking quietly, but occasionally I caught them glancing across to me. At first I heard a few men still moving around the camp, some finishing chores and others crouched in groups playing dice or some other game women aren’t meant to play. But by the time the sentry guards marched along the fence for a second time that night, all was quiet. I stayed watching the moon ride across the darkened sky as the waves broke along the shore, the sea turned to silver. Perhaps tomorrow I’d be sailing that sea, sailing that sea to Ithaca.
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