The Amazon and the Warrior

by Judith Hand

  As the crowd’s attention returned to Harmonia, Pentha came up close. “They love you,” she said.

  “They love feeling secure.”

  “Consider it what you will.” She touched his arm. “I haven’t forgotten your reluctance to get involved. And I’m grateful. For myself, and for the People.”

  “The troops are fit. They’re ready. I’ve done what you wanted, but to exactly what end? Our strength is well beyond anything required for our defense here. Only a limited number of Achean ships could ever make it through the Hellespont.”

  “You know the plan has always been to go to Troy.”

  Go to Troy. The old anger, the old fear, tightened his chest. With more heat of concern than he intended to show, he said, “If we combined our forces with those of Troy, we might achieve your goal. Breach the Achean wall. Burn their ships. Slaughter them. Perhaps. But no word has come from Troy asking our help, has it?”

  She said nothing.

  He pressed her. “You sent word to Priam that we would give them aid. You haven’t heard from him. You may very well not hear from him. Do we go uninvited? Unwelcome?”

  Again she said nothing. She simply gave him a long, hard stare.

  40

  TWO LAMPS SOFTLY LIT HEKTOR’S BEDROOM. Lyre and flute music drifted in through an open window. To Derinoe’s ears, they seemed mournful sighs.

  Yet another battle was past. Hektor had returned, unharmed. He sat in a dressing gown in front of her on a cushioned stool. His eyes were bloodshot, and rimmed with red. She was certain he had been weeping before she arrived. Just the thought of Hektor weeping stunned her. She had been rubbing his neck. Now, she wrapped her arms around his chest. “Glaukos is dead, Hektor. Your dear friend is dead. I am terrified.”

  “My beautiful Deri.”

  “Nausicaa is so grief-stricken she can’t get out of bed.”

  He pulled her around and took her into his lap. “So beautiful but always troubled.”

  She pulled close to him, drew his head to her breast. “Tell your father he must give Helen back.”

  She felt his head shake. “You know this war isn’t about Helen. It isn’t even about Achean honor, no matter how dramatically the scum posture that it is. Maybe for Menelaus honor plays a part. But for the others, it’s strictly about treasure, slaves, and control of the Hellespont. Sending Helen back wouldn’t end it.”

  “How do you know? Priam could try.”

  He pulled back and studied her. “Dishonor his own son by tossing out his son’s wife? Helen came here freely with Paris. Priam won’t force her to leave. For that matter, neither would I.”

  “What about asking aid from the Amazons? Nausicaa asked me again if you have spoken to your father. Did you? What did he say?”

  He pushed her off his lap, stood, and took her hand. “Come. I want to show you something.”

  To Derinoe’s alarm, he led her outside his rooms into a common hallway. She tried to pull him to a stop. “Should we leave your quarters? Andromache … .”

  He just kept walking. “The servants are below. Andromache is partying in Hekuba’s quarters with Hekuba and other royal ladies. She won’t return until late tomorrow.”

  He led up the stairway to the roof garden. There he drew her to the southwest corner and nodded toward the bay. “Look at those fires. From here we see only a few dozen, but there are hundreds. The Achean camp has been struck by plague, Deri. Glaukos may be dead, but the gods favor us. The Archeans are burning their dead. They die like bees in a fungus-infected hive. We are going to destroy them, and soon. Calling on Amazons isn’t needed.”

  She threw herself against him, pressed her face against his chest. She tightened her hold as if to prevent him ever leaving.

  “We are together,” he said. “We can’t change what the Fates will do with us. So let’s go downstairs and make love. I want you to make me forget war and plague and death.”

  She locked her arm in his and pressed close to him. “Glaukos is dead,” he said, “but the Acheans will pay.”

  41

  DAMON ARRIVED AT THE AMAZON COMPOUND and found Hippolyta, Clonie, Bremusa, and Evandre outside the stable. This was three days after the spring festival and their horses stood ready to ride. He had not been aware of any plans for travel. His own plans might have to be changed.

  Each woman’s second lingered nearby. These young women of eighteen or nineteen years had been accepted with full honor as a warrior but must serve as a second for ten battles. Each rode beside her warrior and carried extra arrows, javelins, and spears and, if her warrior was a commander, her commander’s pennant.

  Damon didn’t see Pentha. The group of nine was fully geared for something, though, so the meeting of commanders he had come to propose would clearly have to be put off. To Hippolyta he said, “I’m looking for Pentha.”

  “In the stable”

  Bias came around the building’s corner, and, seeing the group, rushed up to them. He started to address Damon, but changed his mind. Turning to Clonie he said, “I think you have something in your ear.”

  Clonie stared at him.

  Bias reached up beside her head, intoned “Badamus Flax!” and when he brought his hand down, four green stones rolled out of his shirtsleeve onto the ground.

  With the Amazons, Damon burst into laughter.

  Bias, his face red, snatched up the stones and hurried off.

  Damon entered the stable and found Pentha fastening Valor’s halter. Always struck with awe at the stallion’s strength and beauty, he stroke the arched neck. “Something’s happening?”

  “A rogue lion. In Ramatha. It’s killed two children.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “The town is half a day’s ride. The people are prepared for us. They will have beaters waiting and someone following the lion’s spoor. If we have good luck, we should be back late tomorrow. Perhaps the next day.”

  Hearing footsteps, he turned toward the stable door. One of Harmonia’s pages scurried in.

  The page bowed to Pentha. “We received a message from Troy, from the High Priestess Semele.”

  Pentha nodded.

  “There was a devastating plague in the Achean camp. And also a falling out between Achilles and Agamemnon. Achilles withdrew to his ships and refused to participate further in their campaign.”

  Pentha looked at Damon, his own rising excitement mirrored in her eyes. “If Achilles has dropped out,” Pentha said, “they will suffer a tremendous blow to morale.”

  He nodded. “The perfect opportunity for Hektor to act decisively. He has a physically weakened enemy and they are without their great warrior,.”

  The page said, “There is more. Hektor did attack, and the Trojans breached the Achean wall. They even burned some Achean ships. The Acheans, though, rallied and ultimately held ground and the plague has passed.”

  Damon snapped, “Is there any good news?”

  The page shook her head. “When these messages were sent, Patroklos, Lord Achilles’ companion, decided to rejoin the battle. The Achean royals hope Achilles will also do so.”

  “Achilles!” Pentha said with the venom he always heard her use when the Achean royal’s name was mentioned.

  “One last thing,” the page said. “A rumor is being spread throughout Troy that the Amazons have not come to their aid because the people of Themiskyra have grown weak and afraid.”

  Pentha smacked Valor’s stall. “Foul lie! And dangerous! Our reputation must not be questioned.” She looked hard at the girl. “More?”

  “No, Penthesilea.”

  “Go back to Harmonia. And have her send this message to Priam. ‘Penthesilea, Warrior Queen of the Amazons of Themiskyra once more offers the aid of the People of Artemis to Priam, king of Troy. We are prepared to lend our lives to your cause. Let none say that Amazons fear the Acheans. Rather that we are eager to spill their blood.”’

  The page bowed and left.

  His fist clenched, the heat of anger rus
hing from his chest to his face, Damon said, “I don’t understand you.”

  She turned to him. “What don’t you understand?”

  “Why? Why can’t you let the Trojans deal with their own mess. Why suffer the humiliation of offering troops to Priam yet again?”

  Her brow furrowed and her lips hardened into a straight line. “My task, our task, is to keep the People of Artemis secure. Now and for the future.”

  “That’s not it.” He knew he was just short of shouting but he couldn’t stop. “There is much more here. Why in the name of all the gods are you so eager to take on the Acheans?”

  She skewered him with a look as unbending as iron. “If Priam asks for help, Damon, we will give it.”

  42

  THE BEATING OF PENTHA’S HEART MADE HER EARS buzz with the rush of blood. Clonie and Hippolyta formed a line to her left. To her right walked Evandre and Bremusa. All carried spears at the ready.

  Well behind them, their seconds carried extra spears. In such close conditions, bows were ineffective, and worse, dangerous. A lion that had lost its fear of humans could bring down and kill any one of them before any poison could immobilize it.

  The brush directly in front of Pentha grew both tall and thick, but just beyond lay a small clearing. And Pentha could smell big cat. The lion hid somewhere nearby.

  The line of five continued slow forward movement. In the near distance to her right, sounds of yelling and clubs struck against trees marked the passage of the beaters. In moments, she and her companions reached the edge of the clearing, a space not much bigger than a small house.

  Let the lion bolt into the clearing!

  To her dismay, Clonie stepped into the open.

  The lion crashed out of the brush, a large male with full mane. He bolted across the clearing and sprang toward Clonie. Pentha pulled back her arm, sensing as she did that Evandre and Bremusa did likewise. She hurled the spear toward the spot where it should meet and strike the leaping lion.

  Two screams and a great roar raked the air at the same moment. The lion struck Clonie, knocking her to the ground. He fell, two spears that Pentha could see stuck in his side, his legs thrashing. One of the screams had come from Clonie, who struggled to push the lion off her arm.

  Hippolyta stood in the clearing—but with a spear sticking out of her side. With dawning horror, Pentha realized the second scream had been Hippolyta’s.

  Hippolyta went down on her knees, then fell sideways, the spear pointing into the air.

  Bremusa ran to Clonie. Pentha ran to them and leapt over Clonie and the lion’s body to reach Hippolyta. She dropped on her knees beside her sister. Horror followed horror! The spear in Hippolyta’s side was her own.

  Pentha gasped. Blood ran from Hippolyta’s mouth.

  Evandre knelt on Hippolyta’s other side, staring at the bright red stain spreading into Hippolyta’s tunic.

  Pentha leapt to her feet, her hands tearing into her hair. She shrieked, “No!” Her entire body shook.

  “Pentha.”

  Hippolyta’s soft voice brought Pentha again to her knees. In desperation she grabbed Hippolyta’s hand.

  Staring blindly at the sky, Pentha prayed. “Merciful Artemis.” She swiped tears away.

  Evandre stood, watching. Bremusa joined them with Clonie, whose arm was bleeding. Pentha heard their seconds rush up. Tears still flooded her vision. She brushed them away.

  “I love you,” Hippolyta said.

  “You are my bright star. Don’t leave me.”

  “And you are a great Queen. The Goddess honored me when she brought you to us.”

  “We will, we will …”

  “It hurts,” Hippolyta whispered. “Take it out.”

  “I can’t.” Another great rush of tears clouded Pentha’s vision. Again she brushed them away.

  Hippolyta’s eyes weren’t focused, simply staring. “Dear sister,” she whispered. Pentha felt a gentle squeeze from Hippolyta’s hand. “It hurts so much. Take it out.”

  “I can’t. You’ll die.”

  Hippolyta struggled to move her head, then looked Pentha hard in the eyes. “Yes. You can. For me.”

  “Don’t, Hippolyta. Don’t ask me.”

  “Quickly.”

  Numb, Pentha kissed Hippolyta’s hand. She felt the gazes of her women, understood that they knew as well as she what must be done. Why Hippolyta? Why? She has never had an evil thought!

  “Tell mother I love her.”

  Pentha nodded. Why Hippolyta and not me?

  She looked to Evandre, who stood closest. Biting her lip, she nodded again.

  Evandre grasped the spear and pulled. With a sickening fleshy sound, the tip came out, covered with gore. A great rush of blood followed it.

  In only moments Hippolyta drew a last breath and the unmistakable stillness of death settled on her.

  “Please come back,” Pentha moaned, tears choking her speech. She wrapped her arms around Hippolyta and rocked her sister’s body.

  43

  A SOUND FROM OUTSIDE THE SMALL ROOM IN THE Temple to Artemis startled Pentha from sleep. She listened. The sound was the ringing of the lead sheep’s bell from a flock passing on the street.

  She had fallen asleep on the dark green carpet. An attendant must have come in because lamps were lit, and by now they would otherwise have gone out.

  Gathering herself onto her knees, she stared at the altar. Somehow she had dragged herself through Hippolyta’s funeral. More correctly, Bremusa dragged her through it. But as yet she had not been able to bring herself to make sacrifice. Not here. Not near to the Goddess.

  Her green silk trousers were wrinkled with having been lived in for, how long was it now? Perhaps three days. At some point she must either kill herself or she must leave this room to face Gryn and all those who loved Hippolyta. Some people said suicide was cowardly. Did it make any difference? Honorable. Cowardly. Who could know? Once more she studied the knife and its deadly blade.

  She stood and walked up the alter steps. The attendant had placed several cuts of lamb, burning charcoal, and a bronze basin there. Pentha placed the lamb into the basin, sprinkled it with oil, set it afire. The familiar smell of burning flesh filled the room. In another basin lay cold ashes from previous sacrifices. She placed her hands into them, then streaked dark lines of mourning across her forehead and down her cheeks.

  She returned to the base of the altar and knelt in front of the knife.

  On the wall in front of her hung a fine weaving. She studied the face of the Goddess bathing in a pristine pool to cleanse herself.

  Pentha’s hair had come loose from its braid. Beginning now, she would make amends in the only ways she could think of. Taking the knife in one hand and a length of hair in the other, she cut the hair off at chin length. She continued the task until a field of bright red surrounded her.

  44

  “SHE GAVE ORDERS THAT NO ONE IS TO ENTER,” SAID one of the two young Amazons guarding the door to the small sanctuary where Damon knew Pentha agonized, alone and grieving.

  “Let me pass!”

  They uncrossed their spears and stepped back.

  He opened the door and stepped inside, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. She was kneeling before the alter. He walked to her and stopped at the sight of cut hair encircling her.

  “By the gods!” he blurted out. How could she do such a hideous mutilation?

  She turned, but didn’t rise.

  He moved to her and squatted. “Why did you do it?”

  “Do you need to ask?”

  “The funeral is three days over. You’ve not been seen. To my knowledge, you’ve not eaten.”

  “Why would I eat?”

  “Pentha. Gryn is stricken. Her one daughter is dead and the other avoids her.”

  She nodded. “Yes. I must go to her.”

  “She knows you are in great pain. She is here in the city, waiting for you.”

  Pentha said nothing.

  “Did you wis
h Hippolyta dead?”

  “You know I didn’t.”

  “Was there a thought in your heart that she die?”

  “It was my spear.”

  “This is the working of the Furies, Pentha. I know what you’re thinking. I even know what you’re feeling. That it’s wrong for you to be alive when she is dead.” I lived for years with that burden. “I killed once, horribly, when I didn’t intend to. A boy. He looked so much like my own son. I didn’t intend it, but I came to him in a raid, with my heart set to kill. But killing was not in your heart. You are not to blame.”

  “At the funeral I heard what they were whispering. ‘Surely it’s a punishment that Pentha killed Hippolyta.’ They think I’m not fit for anything. Certainly not to be Warrior Queen.”

  He touched her arm, worrying that she might flinch from him. She didn’t. “It’s only Euryclea and Marpessa who say such things.” An ember of hope leapt to life in his chest. “But everyone would understand if you chose to step down out of grief.”

  Pentha looked at him, a blank, uncomprehending stare.

  “The army is as ready as it ever could be to defend Themiskyra. You have done that. But you could chose now to—” He stood and drew her up with him. Holding her arms, he said, “I want to live with you Pentha, and love you, and share life with you. There are others who could lead. Bremusa is a great warrior.”

  She wrenched herself free. “You think I should abandon our people?”

  “You wouldn’t be abandoning them. You’ve given them an army that ensures that no one can harm them here.”

  “Not now. But what if Troy ultimately falls? What if the Acheans learn the secret of the Hellespont? What of the future.

  “Marpessa could—”

  “Marpessa! Bremusa! I have killed my sister! You think I could leave now? Go look for peace while others still face uncertainty?”

  The tiny flame in his chest flickered out. Nothing he could say would touch her. Her straight back, the fire in the green eyes, the twist of disgust on her lips, all said it was still unthinkable to her to be anything other than Themiskyra’s Warrior Queen. He’d been foolish with hope. “I want you to be happy, Pentha. And I will do whatever I can to give that to you. I had only wished you might feel as I do.”