by Zizou Corder
More likely Poseidon will hear you, and wash you away for your insolence, Halo thought.
But Arko was not there.
She turned and glanced up and down the beach. Lurid orange flame torches flared weirdly against the night sky. The figures of the worshippers lit up like ghosts or demons. It felt bad. Very bad.
She knew where Arko was. She felt it in her belly.
A woman near her was wailing in the surf. She had dropped her white cloak, which she had been waving around in a trance. Halo picked it up and wrapped it, wet and salty as it was, around her upper body and head. She started wailing too, and thus disguised she began to wander up the beach, melting into the crowd, heading for the low cliff at the back. Heading for the cave.
The crowd of swaying bodies grew denser as she drew nearer. Yes, she thought.
She tried to wriggle between the worshippers. There was a heavy bitter smell – incense of some kind.
But she wasn’t going to get through. She stopped for a moment, and looked around. There was a pile of tumbled rocks to the right of the cave, from the clifftop to the beach. Some people were up there, gaping down at the mouth of the cave. If she could scramble up there, she’d be able to see…
She was a good climber, and it didn’t take long. Then she found a place a little way from the worshippers, a little higher. But what she saw, when she turned and looked down, made her blood run cold.
Of course she had feared it – she had expected it – but to see it, she wanted to vomit.
The cave mouth had been decked out as a temple – garlands of ivy, swags of leaves and boughs from trees. In front of the cave, a great flat rock, like an altar, lay across the entrance. Around it flaring torches flooded the scene with jumpy, twitchy light. And behind the altar stood three masked figures in white, with bulls’ horns on their heads. The priests of the new god. Manticlas stood in the middle: the smallest, the palest. He was holding a large glinting knife.
And there on the rock lay Arko, lying flat, torso twisted, arms wide, bound and gagged, ropes stretched tight to spikes hammered into the rocks on either side, as if he were caught up in a great cobweb.
Apollo, you cannot let this be – was her first thought. What are they waiting for? How long do we have?
She summed up the scene quickly. She had to release him and there had to be a way for him to escape the crowd… But they were so outnumbered… Was he still strong? Or had they drugged him? He looked strong…
The twelve ropes she counted were tight enough for an accurate arrow to snap.
She had twelve arrows.
She laughed. OK then. She raised her bow to her ear, flicked an arrow into place, and aimed for the nearest of the ropes. Apollo, if you ever cared for me, or for Arko, guide my arrows now…
But before she could start to shoot, something extraordinary happened.
A commotion started in the crowd. A frisson, a movement… it was following someone – she could make out a figure, the centre of the commotion, working its way to the front, leaving a widening wake behind it.
It was scrawny, half naked. Moving awkwardly, scratchily, it burst out at the front of the crowd, and jumped up on to the altar rock. It turned to face the crowd. Even from here, Halo could see the glint of the torches reflecting in its wild red eyes, and the black blood dripping from its mouth.
‘Plague!’ it roared. Its voice was hoarse but the words were clear. ‘Plague! False gods! Plague! The anger of Apollo, the curse of Zeus – Athenians, remember your true Gods! Plague! Plague!!!’
The priests were looking round, frantic suddenly, helplessly calling for their guards.
‘Take him!’ one shouted – but the guards hung back in horror.
‘Plague!’ one yelled. ‘Plague! Plague!’ and panic burst out.
Terror gripped the crowd, and glee gripped Halo.
She found her aim, pulled back the string firm against the groove of her thumb-ring. She loosed her arrow and it hissed past her ear. It hit the taut rope, snapping it and sending it coiling crazily back on itself.
Arko’s head snapped up. He looked right at her – and she saw the strength run through his limbs as he tried to struggle to his feet. He was alert all right, and wondering what in Hades was going on. He was OK.
She shot again.
Yes!
And the next.
In training, she could hit twelve bullseyes in less than a minute; from further away than this. In training in the dark, ten.
She breathed steadily. This was easy. Don’t let the circumstances make it difficult.
Four – yes. She heard the rope’s quick snap.
The crowd were running, mad, up and down the beach.
Don’t even look.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Apollo, don’t desert me now.
Snap.
The sound of the surf behind her, her own blood in her ears, the rhythm of her shots…
And then, reaching back to her arrow carrier, there were none. Instead, something grabbed her hand, swung her round.
A face, a strong man’s hand on her arm, higher up the rocks than her. A man’s voice, swearing. His other hand held the remains of her clutch of arrows above his head. He was dressed in white – a devotee, trying to protect the sacrifice and the priests.
Without even thinking about it, Halo twisted his arm, kicked him, elbowed him in the ribs so he bent double and swung him over her shoulder and down the rocks. Thank you, Arimaspou, for teaching me Skythian hand-to-hand combat, she whispered.
But her arrows were gone with him. She turned back to the chaotic scene below.
The ropes were almost all released. The skinny, mad figure of Leonidas was cutting the last one with a glinting knife – Manticlas’s knife! The other priests were cowering in the cave mouth, yelling at their guards. Their guards were running away. Everyone was running away.
Well, almost everyone. Two figures were heading for the altar, and two remained there.
Leonidas was spitting blood and laughing and sticking Manticlas’s knife in his belt when Arimaspou and Akinakes reached him. Arko was rubbing his wrists and crying, ‘It’s the Spartan toad!’ in disbelief. Halo, the last to arrive, just flung herself into Arko’s arms.
She did the same to Leonidas, who held her tight for a moment, though he was still laughing with a kind of mad hysteria. Then he collapsed in a faint.
‘Get him on my back,’ said Arko. ‘And let’s get out of here.’
Arimaspou and Akinakes lifted Leonidas up, and he slumped forward against Arko’s tattooed back.
‘You too,’ said Arko to Halo. ‘Hold him in place.’
‘I’ll be too heavy for you,’ she said, but Arko just gave her a look, so she climbed up, reaching round Leonidas’s waist to hold on to Arko’s.
‘I suppose he and I will have to be friends now,’Arko said to Halo.
‘Yes, you will,’ she said, resting her head on Leonidas’s back. She couldn’t stop smiling.
‘Is he your human then?’ he asked. ‘Like Chariklo said?’
Halo laughed, looked down. ‘Shut up,’ she said.
‘What’s happened to Manticlas?’Arimaspou shouted.
‘He was in the mouth of the cave,’ Halo called.
‘You go on, take them back,’Arimaspou called. ‘Akinakes and I will get him.’ He gave a fierce whistle, and the horses came cantering up the beach.
Xαπτερ 36
‘Arko! Thank the Gods,’ cried Nephiles, jumping up from the fire as they lurched into the compound. ‘Is it all of you?’
‘Arimaspou and Akinakes are still out there,’ said Halo. ‘Going after Manticlas – or rather Hecatores.’ She slid from Arko’s back. ‘Help me with Leon.’
Nephiles was already there to help him down. They laid him on a rug by the fire.
‘We saw the others on the road – told them. They’ve gone with them,’ panted Arko, getting his breath back.
‘You two should go t
o bed,’ Halo said.
They were back, and safe. They were safe. Arko was safe.
‘We’ll wait for the others,’ said Leonidas.
He and Arko both looked grey with exhaustion in the firelight.
Maybe I do too, Halo thought.
Nephiles threw blankets to them, and they pulled them round their shoulders.
‘His guard had deserted,’ she continued. ‘The dogs will find him.’
‘Get this down you,’ Nephiles said, handing them each a bowl of stew, and a cup of honey tea.
Nephiles’s hound came and curled up to Halo. She stroked it absently. ‘I must put something on Arko’s rope burns,’ she said.
Nephiles handed her her bag, and held the light while she tended the wounds. Her hands were shaking with tiredness and relief.
Finally, her work done, she let herself fall on to the rug. Leaning on Arko’s chestnut flank, she whispered, ‘Arko, what happened?’
‘They shot me,’ he said, between mouthfuls of stew. ‘I didn’t know at the time, I worked it out later. I remember the skirmish in the morning, and heading off with Nephiles in the afternoon to look for you… The next thing I knew, I was in a cave by the sea, and my head was splitting with pain, and I had this wound.’ He gestured to his shoulder, where the wound was still not properly healed. ‘Hecate only knows what they put on that arrowhead…’
‘I put some galbanum on it,’ she murmured.
‘Anyway, it knocked me out completely, and I’ve no idea how long I was out for. Even when I came round it was all like a fog, I couldn’t tell time, or place… hard things were soft, soft things were hard, the sea was talking to me… For a while, Halo, I thought I was in our cave in Zakynthos, breathing the bubbles, do you remember…?’
She smiled.
Leonidas was listening, and trying to eat, but his swollen tongue made it difficult.
‘What did you do to your mouth?’ asked Arko.
‘Cut it,’ said Leonidas.
‘How?’ asked Halo.
‘With a knife,’ said Leonidas drily.
‘When you were eating?’ Halo asked, puzzled.
‘No! I cut it to make it bleed.’
‘You cut your tongue open, on purpose,’ she said.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘It had to look real.’
She smiled. She particularly liked how matter-of-fact he was about it.
‘Gargle with salt,’ she said. ‘It’ll help it to heal.’
It was deeply dark by now, with only the tiny horned crescent moon sailing high like a shining bow flung through the night. Nothing to do now but wait. What was taking them so long?
Leonidas and Arko fell asleep, side by side. Halo looked at them: her two wounded heroes. She’d stay awake, wait for Arimaspou. She lay back. Oh, the beautiful beautiful stars…
In moments she was asleep.
Something disturbed her. She opened one eye. The sky was high and cold and pale: early morning. She could hear Nephiles singing softly as he tended the fire, and smell the woodsmoke. Are the others back? It was only a half thought, as she rolled over into her blanket, warm and snug between Arko and Leonidas. Please, don’t make me wake up…
But there was a clattering, a knocking, a pounding of hooves, shouting at the gates of the compound.
No, no more excitement… let me sleep…
Then a voice above her. Long hair that tickled her cheek. ‘Halo! Are you awake?’
Halo leapt up from the rug. All sleep fell away instantly.
The courtyard was full of Centaurs. There were at least forty of them milling around, their fine hooves, their long hair, their swishing tails. They were drinking honey tea, and eating warm bread. Nephiles was giving them cake and bowls of yoghurt. Other Skythians were appearing sleepily from their huts, astounded. By the gate, Arimaspou and Akinakes were clambering wearily from their horses, smiling, bleary in the first shafts of sunlight and the horses’ breath rising in puffs. Slung across the back of Arimaspou’s horse Halo could see a figure, bound, wrapped in a blanket, a bit of blond hair sticking out of the top.
And Chariklo was hugging her; and Kyllarus was hugging Arko.
‘We got the message,’ Chariklo said. ‘We came at once. We were just in time – we followed the noise and the lights, we heard the ruckus and spotted Manticlas heading inland – luckily he shows up in the dark! We surrounded him and then your friends were there…’
Leonidas was staring at her. ‘Oh dear,’ he said. ‘The fever’s back.’
‘No, actually this is real,’ Halo said. ‘Chariklo, Kyllarus, this is Leon…’
Leonidas stared. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Are you sure?’
Arimaspou was approaching. His face was pale, and his expressionless eye rested on Chariklo.
‘Arimaspou,’ Halo said, as he drew near. She went to him and hugged him close. Soon she would be as tall as him. ‘Mum, Dad – this is… Captain Arimaspou. Arimaspou, this is my… the mother and father who saved me.’
She looked from one to the other to the other. Leonidas and Arko looked on.
Suddenly her heart was so very full she could feel it like a bursting ripe fruit inside her ribcage.
Ποστσχριπτ 1
Later, Leonidas said, ‘So what are you going to do now?’ ‘Everything,’ she said. Then, a little hesitantly, ‘How about you?’ Please don’t say you’re going back to Sparta.
‘I’m going to recover,’ he said, ‘as best I can. Then… who knows… now I can’t go back to Sparta…’
‘Why not?’ she exclaimed. Yes!!!
He waggled his hand at her. ‘I’m not perfect any more,’ he said. ‘My finger fell off.’
Halo stared, in horrified fascination. Then she jumped up to get a dressing.
Leonidas was laughing. Then he threw up again. Then he was laughing again.
Everybody was laughing.
Ποστσχριπτ 2
Later still, Nephiles, cleaning a big fish in preparation for the great feast for everybody, called out, ‘Hey! Look at this!’
Halo, who was slicing onions, glanced up.
‘Look what I found!’ he said.
In his fingers, shining and dripping with fishgloop, was Halo’s golden owl.
Noτεσ
Publisher’s Warning
For instructions where you see this symbol, you must have an adult to help you.
1 Agora: literally, field; but mostly used to mean the central square, meeting place and marketplace of a Greek town. Though in the Centaurs’ case, it really was more of a field.
2 How to make baklava (you must have an adult to help you with the knives and the cooking): 1) Mix lots of chopped almonds and hazelnuts with a bit of sugar and honey to make a paste. 2) Melt some butter. 3) Put a sheet of filo pastry in an oven dish and brush it with melted butter; add two more layers of filo pastry, brushing each in turn with melted butter. 4) Spread the nut and honey paste evenly on the pastry. 5) Add seven more layers of filo pastry, brushing each in turn with melted butter. Pour any leftover butter over the top. 5) Cut the whole thing carefully into diamond shapes with a pointy knife. 6) Bake for 25 minutes at 200°C (gas mark 6) or until golden brown. 7) While it’s baking make a syrup in a pan from hot water, honey and rosewater if you have any. 8) Take the baklava from the oven. Let it cool a little in its dish, then pour the warm syrup over it. When it’s cool, eat it.
3 Chiton: a not-very-long tunic, worn by all kinds of Greeks, male and female, usually hitched over a belt at the hips.
4 How to find north: look for the constellation called the Plough, or Great Bear – it looks like a shopping trolley or saucepan. The two stars forming the right-hand edge (opposite the handle) point up and away to a very bright star about five-times-the-distance-between-the-two-stars away. This is the North Star. Look at it, and you are facing north. South is behind you, east to your right and west to your left.
5 How to make a bow (you must have an adult to help you with the cutting): Find a strong but be
ndy branch of yew, elm, ash or hazel with a natural curve, a metre or so long and about 2 to 3cm in diameter. Cut a right-angled notch at each end, on the outer side of the curve, about 1. 5cm deep, about halfway through the width of the wood. Make a loop in the end of a piece of string (shorter than your bow) and loop it round the top notch, press your foot or knee against the middle of the bow for leverage and loop the string round the bottom notch, tying it so the string is tight but still pullable. To make an arrow, take a straight, hard piece of wood about 30cm long. Peel off the bark to make it aerodynamic. Cut a notch in one end to hold the string in place. This bow and arrow will work, so unless you are starving in the woods. DO NOT SHOOT, OR EVEN PRETEND TO SHOOT, AT ANY LIVING THING.
6 How to clean a fish (you must have an adult to help you with the cutting): 1) Hold the fish firmly around its back, belly up, tail towards you. 2) Minding your fingers and aiming away, with a knife slit open the underside from the little hole at the tail end to just between the gills at the head end. 3) Stick your finger into the slit between the gills, and run it down the length of the slit, inside the fish’s belly, pulling out the gloopy guts. They will come away almost in one lot. 4) Rinse the fish properly, particularly inside.
7 A hundred years before, some of the family had killed some traitors who had claimed the protection of a temple. The traitors tied a string to the altar, and tried to sneak off holding the string as the protection of the God; the string broke and the Alcmaeonids said that meant the God did not want to protect them any more, and killed them. Since then, whenever a political enemy wanted to discredit an Alcmaeonid, they cried, ‘Blood guilt!’ and invoked this dubious curse.
8 Unburied.
9 A short length of hollow stalk that safely carries a little bit of burning ember, which the ancient Greeks used to transport fire.
10 Bad air from which the plague was thought to come.
Uppercase Lowercase Name English letter
Α α Alpha a
Β β Beta b
Γ γ Gamma g
Δ δ Delta d
Ε ε Epsilon e
