The Girl From Ithaca

by Cherry Gregory

  “That was unfair!” he roared. “In Salamis, we always put the turning poles directly in front of the starting line. Diomedes put the pole in the wrong place. It should have been much more to the left and that’s the reason my charioteer Cadmus turned so badly. Without the bad turn, he’d have kept ahead of Antilochus and come in third … at least.”

  Odysseus held up his hands. “Oh come on, old friend. This race was a light-hearted diversion from all the hardships tomorrow might bring. It’s not a judgement on your horses to come fifth. Think about it, these horses are the best in the camp. No horses from Ithaca made the starting line.”

  Ajax didn’t react for a moment, and we waited to see if the words would ease his temper. Then suddenly he grinned and thumped Odysseus on his chest, making my brother stagger back a few paces.

  “Ha! Ithacan horses, that’s a good one. Perhaps next time we could have a mule race to give yours a chance,” he cried.

  “A splendid idea,” Odysseus said. “Now let’s have another drink and we’ll see how well your soldiers sing.”

  Many of the soldiers returned to the fire and some brought out their reed pipes and flutes. Ellissa and I listened to Evander as he sang along to a fishermen’s song from Pylos, no one seeming to mind that most of his words were different from theirs. After several cycles of the song, Ellissa joined in and so I followed her, sweetness of voice not being required in this lively chorus. Enjoying the pleasure of being accepted by the group and not worrying what I sounded like, it took me a moment to realise Io was calling my name.

  “There you are,” I cried. “Who’s your friend?”

  Io grinned. “Nicodamas, he’s Agamemnon’s blacksmith. I knew him back in Mycenae, but Clytemnestra didn’t approve of her attendants mixing with men. Now we’ve found each other again and Clytemnestra isn’t here to stop us.”

  “Well, don’t let Agamemnon catch you, I don’t think he’d approve either.”

  “That’s what I want to ask. I’m going back to his tent, but if Agamemnon comes looking for me, let me know.”

  “He’d kill you if he found out.”

  “He won’t find out. He’s just called a meeting in Achilles’ hut, working out battle plans against the Amazons. They’ll argue as usual and take ages to agree on anything. He won’t be back for a long time yet.”

  “Io, it’s not a very …” But I didn’t get chance to finish. Io turned round and disappeared into the group behind us.

  Ellissa shook her head. “She likes to take risks, that one.”

  “Suppose we’d better keep a look-out for Agamemenon,” I sighed.

  We found a quieter spot, away from the singing and closer to the sea. Ellissa sat cross-legged in the sand, facing Achilles’ camp so she’d catch sight of Agamemnon returning from the council. I knelt by her and closed my eyes, letting the cool breeze wash over me.

  “No sign of him yet, but we could be watching all night,” Ellissa complained. “I just hope we don’t have to go through this every time Io likes a man.”

  “No wonder Clytemnestra insisted on the no men rule.”

  Absent-mindedly, I scooped up handfuls of sand and let it filter through my fingers.

  “I suppose you miss Arisbe?” I said.

  “Not as much as you miss Ithaca. I didn’t live there long enough and I’ve no family since my father died.” She started to play with the sand too. “Moving around a lot as a child meant I got used to changing homes.”

  “Whereas I’m not much good at it at all. I’m always thinking about my family and what they’ll be doing.” I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. “This time of year, my friend Lysander will be shearing his sheep and Father will be busy with his fruit trees.”

  “Why doesn’t Odysseus send you home in one of his ships?” Ellissa asked.

  “He did talk about it at first but he’s got used to having me here and he knows I want to stay.”

  “But if you long for Ithaca so much, surely you’d rather go home.”

  “Odysseus longs for Ithaca too. So do most of our soldiers. I feel I have to stay with them to make up for failing Iphigenia,” I said.

  Ellissa looked confused. “Who’s Iphigenia?”

  Slowly, I told Ellissa about Agamemnon’s daughter and how she’d been killed.

  “By her own father,” Ellissa gasped.

  “Yes, and that rotten priest. Now you know why I despise them both.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  I lay on my back, comforted by the feel of the warm sand. “But I still need to succeed in something. I need to look after Odysseus and help get Helen back to Menelaus.”

  Closing my eyes, I listened to Ellissa as she told me about her travels with her father. She was describing the dangers of Thrace, when she stopped suddenly. I looked up and followed her gaze. It was if Hades himself was striding towards us. We’d forgotten to watch for Agamemnon and now he was a mere fifty paces away.

  “If you warn Io he’s prowling round camp again, I’ll try to distract him,” I whispered.

  But as Ellissa scrambled to her feet, Agamemnon called out, “Woman, stay where you are, I want a word with both of you!”

  Chapter EIGHTEEN

  The Healer

  We waited as he closed in.

  “You, you two women, you’ll be helping Machaon the healer tomorrow. Go to his tent and he’ll tell you what to do.”

  We backed away and then turned and walked quickly along the beach.

  “How can we warn Io?” Ellissa said.

  “We’ll have to cut back later and hope he doesn’t …”

  “Odysseus’ sister, come here!” Agamemnon shouted.

  “What now?” I groaned. “Ellissa, you keep going and then sneak back to warn Io. I’ll try to keep him busy.”

  Not waiting for her reply, I ran over to Agamemnon.

  “Where’s my blacksmith?” he said, hands on his hips.

  “Your blacksmith?”

  “I saw him with you earlier and now he’s nowhere to be seen. He needs instructions for tomorrow. What’ve you done with him?”

  My heart was racing. “I’m not sure what you mean, Agamemnon. I haven’t done anything with your blacksmith, except discuss the horses in the chariot race. It was a brief exchange and there were many people nearby. They can confirm that is all that happened.”

  “Idiot girl, I want to know where the cursed man is, that’s all.”

  “But I insist on you disclosing the person who made allegations of me doing something with your blacksmith. It sounds like an allegation and a slur on my name. I will report him to my brother. Rumours like this will ruin my chances of a decent marriage and be a great loss to Ithacan trade. You should appreciate that, Agamemnon. ”

  His face darkened. “Shut up and listen to me. No one has said anything about you and the blacksmith and there are no dammed rumours. Just tell me where he is.”

  I watched the muscles twitch along his jaw line and felt like a child prodding an old hunting dog. “If there are no rumours, why have you asked me where he is?”

  “Have the gods taken your senses, woman? I saw you with him. During the chariot race. And I’ve not seen him since.”

  He gripped me by the shoulders and shook me. I bore it as long as I could and then gasped, “But I don’t know where he is. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  Agamemnon sighed and pushed me away. “Go on then, get to Machaon. Seems your brother got your share of the brains. May the gods help Machaon.”

  Agamemnon started back towards his camp, making for Nicodamas’ tent. There was no sign of Ellissa or Io. Having a horrible feeling they could both be in the tent, I gave the old hunting dog one more prod. “Agamemnon, your blacksmith is the one called Nicodamas, isn’t he?”

  He swung round, his fists clenched. “What?”

  “I want to make sure I’m thinking of the right one. If I sent you to the Cretan or the Spartan smith by mistake, you’d be… very angry.”

&nb
sp; Agamemnon glared at me, a dangerous glint in his eye. Then he swung round and headed towards Nicodamas’ tent. There was nothing more I could do. I walked along the beach, glancing round every few steps to look for Ellissa. Once in the Argos camp, I sat on a broken chariot wheel and waited. Eventually I spotted her hurrying round the tents and I waved to attract her attention. She came trotting towards me, gasping for breath and holding her side. She flopped down on the wheel.

  “Is Io safe?” I asked.

  Ellissa nodded, gulping in the air. “Just made it. When Agamemnon stormed in, it looked like Nicodamas was teaching her about the bellows. He actually believed it. He thought it was a good idea. ”

  I patted Ellissa on the back. “You did well. Catch your breath now, before we go on to Machaon.”

  I’d often seen the healer round the camp, either leading the Thessalians into a battle or treating the wounded and dying, but I’d not spoken to him since trying to help Philoctetes the archer. He was inside his large tent, bent over a table cluttered with pots, jars and mixing bowls. Quickly looking round, I saw a long piece of twine stretched along the top of the tent, with bunches of plants and herbs tied up and hanging from it. The bed in the corner seemed to be an afterthought.

  Machaon straightened up. “Come in, please. It’s crowded in here, but you’re not as big as Ajax, so I think we’ll fit in.” He rubbed his hand through his sandy coloured hair. “Now, Agamemnon tells me you’re to learn the uses of my remedies and help care for the wounded. Is that right?”

  We both nodded.

  “I can certainly do with some assistance.” He held up an earthenware bowl. “If a wound goes bad, this ointment made from parsley may help clean it. It’s best to have a good supply before a battle.”

  “Parsley? I use it in cooking,” Ellissa said.

  Machaon chuckled. “You’ll find I use the same herbs as you do, though I add a few extra ingedients that would ruin your fine reputation as a cook.”

  I studied him as he compared his knowledge of herbs with Ellissa. He was a tall man, perhaps strong in a wiry sort of way. The dark shadows under his eyes and the slight tic on the left side of his face belied his cheerful manner. While they were talking, my eyes settled on a collection of different sized saws, hanging on a shelf behind him.

  “Ah yes, these are my favourites,” he smiled, reaching over to pluck the smallest from its hook. “You can probably guess this is for fingers or toes.” Machaon touched the blade very lightly. “I need to take care of this little beauty. If the blade is sharp, it does its work well.” He licked the blood he’d drawn from his finger. “Of course, the shock of the sawing can kill a man and there’s likely to be badness in the wound, but it gives him a chance.”

  Ellissa and I stared at the ground.

  “I won’t be asking you to saw a man’s leg off or extract an embedded spear. You’re not strong enough,” he laughed.

  Ellissa seemed to be struggling for breath.

  Machaon glanced at the saw and put it back on the shelf. “I work mainly on the battlefield, removing arrow heads, stemming the wounds. I need you here, ready to tend the injured after I’ve sent them back to camp.”

  “But how will we know what to do?” I asked, forcing my eyes away from the saws.

  “You won’t be doing the difficult work. I’ll show you simple remedies you can apply to most injuries. Nothing complicated, but it’ll impress the men.” He leaned forward, as though to share a secret. “The first and most important thing to learn about healing is that you don’t need to know much, or even have much success, but you must look as if you do. It’s all about reputation.” The healer dipped under the rope and moved over to the table cluttered with knives, mixing bowls and small jars. He turned to grin at us. “In one way, it’s all very easy. Save a man, and he’s in your debt forever. If the man dies, he’ll not be around to complain.”

  I smiled weakly and glanced at Ellissa. She was smiling too, but there was a look of alarm in her eyes as she followed him to the table.

  “Now, this is where I mix my potions,” Machaon explained, waving his hand over the jars. “Don’t worry, Ellissa. You’ll only need to know four or five of them. The men won’t expect you to be as skilled as that water nymph from Mount Ida!”

  “Oenone? The nymph Paris loved before Helen, when he was still a shepherd?” I said, clinging to something I knew.

  Machaon picked up a pot of honey and turned it over in his hand. “I don’t take a lot of interest in that sort of thing, but I think that’s her name, yes.” He handed the pot to Ellissa. “I’m sure you use honey in your cooking, but it’s also useful to dress wounds. It fights the badness that often grows there.”

  Ellissa smiled a more genuine smile and I began to relax.

  “Now, this is an ointment I’ve made from one part honey and two parts sheep fat,” the healer explained, showing us a larger pot. “Apply that to stop the badness spreading to the the rest of the body. Good to make up as a drink too, eases a cough.” He smiled when I recognised the familiar smell. “Of course, I forgot, you Ithacans know about sheep fat! I expect there’s always a lot in Ithaca, but sometimes we run out here in camp. In that case, use olive oil. Patroclus gives me a small amount from Achilles’ raids, before Agamemnon gets the rest, but it’s not a big supply. So, if you can, use the sheep fat.” He reached over the assortment of jars and took a tall clay jar from the back of the table. “However, when we‘re very busy, we may run short of both. What then?”

  We stared at the tall jar. Machaon pulled out the stopper and tipped something into my hand.

  “Dried moss?” Ellissa said.

  “Yes, easy to find, so it’s an excellent reserve. I collect it from the coppice just outside the boundary. Place it against the wound and then apply the bandage.” He took Ellissa’s arm and spread the moss over an imagined injury. “That’s all. Nothing to it. Not quite as effective as my honey ointment, but better than nothing.”

  I began to feel more confident, in the healer and myself. Despite his strange manner, Machaon explained his remedies precisely and simply and was teaching us a lot.

  “Now, this is a bitter plant called woundwort and I make it into a paste,” he said, showing us a root and cutting it into small pieces. “Remember I used it on the archer who was bitten by the snake? Not that it helped in that particular case. But it’s my strongest treatment against a poisoned wound. So, if one of the leaders is wounded, or if the honey ointment doesn’t work for an ordinary soldier, this is the one to use.” He waved a pot of woundwort paste under Ellisa’s nose. “You can tell you’ve got the right one by the smell.”

  Ellissa’s eyes watered and then she sneezed.

  Machaon laughed. “Well, I think you can recognize woundwort now.”

  And so he continued, reminding me about the poppy seeds we’d given to Philoctetes. He shook a handful of black seeds into a bowl and watched as we each had a turn grinding them into a fine powder.

  “Mix this powder with wine,” he explained, “it’ll relieve pain and help a man sleep. Usually very effective, so don’t be put off by the archer’s case.”

  Eventually, just as I thought my head would burst, Machaon clapped his hands and walked to the entrance. “That’s enough for today. If you need to know more, I’ll show you another time. Carry on with your chores round camp tomorrow and when I need you, I’ll send Phoebus.”

  As we left his tent, he called after us, “If all else fails, pray to the god Apollo. He’s the god of healing and the one to call to when you need help.”

  I pulled my cloak around me and whispered to Ellissa. “Think I’ll try a god more favourable to the Greeks.”

  The wind had swung round and a cool breeze blew inland across the beach. A small cluster of men remained near the dying fires, but the drinking and singing was over for the night and most had wandered back to their tents.

  “Wonder if Io and Hesta have extra duties?” I said.

  “Io could help Nicodamas,” Ellisa ch
uckled. “With those bellows.”

  We arrived at our hut to find Odysseus at the table, binding a spear head onto the carefully shaped niche on the shaft.

  “Agamemnon seen you?” he asked, looking up.

  I sat on my bed. “He said you’d agreed to us helping Machaon. So we’ve had instructions.”

  Odysseus set his spear down and studied me. “Agamemnon forced me into it. He thinks you’re a nuisance around camp and leading others into trouble. He wants to keep you busy.”

  “Me? It was Hesta who suggested watching the Amazons and then Io who insisted on going.”

  My brother shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe, but Agamemnon’s not interested in that. You’ll get the blame every time your little group steps out of line. I advise you to keep well away from him.”

  I blushed as I thought of my recent encounter.

  Ellissa leapt in to help me. “Oh, we’ll keep out of his way, Odysseus. We don’t like being anywhere near the man,” she said, shaking her head and frowning, “but we learnt a lot about Machaon’s work tonight and we’re hoping we can remember it for tomorrow.”

  My brother picked up his spear again. “You’ll be excellent and the men will love you both.” He studied the tip closely and then added, “What did you think of Machaon?”

  Ellissa open her mouth, hesitated and then said nothing.

  So it was up to me. I untied my hair and let in fall over my shoulders. “He knows a lot about herbs and honey and that sort of thing.” Odysseus looked up expectantly. “And he gave us good instructions. I think we know what to do.” An image of his collection of saws swam before me. “But he’s a bit strange.”

  Odysseus grinned. “Most healers are. Perhaps it’s the work they do.”