by Judith Hand
Damon’s gaze flared with an angry fire, something she’d never seen in him before. “You don’t know me or you would never use the words honor and glory in the same breath with talk of fighting or war.”
“Well, isn’t that the point of these duels in battle. Honor? Glory?”
He stopped walking, stared hard at her, his jaw muscles clenching. “I’m going to kill Achilles. He intends to attack Themiskyra next spring and he is so revered he may be able to overcome his men’s present fear of our forces. Killing him will assuredly cut the heart out of any such plans.”
“But I’m telling you, his death is arranged. He may already be dead.”
“What you are talking about? What you say makes no sense.”
“I won‘t—I can’t—tell you details. But I have as much reason, maybe more reason, to want him dead than you. And I swear, Achilles will die.”
She imagined his mind darting here and there to one idea after another, trying to solve that puzzle. He would never be able to. And she could never explain. Gryn had asked for, and Deri had sworn to, silence. Maybe he was thinking she had simply gone insane over Pentha’s death. Or that she was the kind of woman who would put trust in a witch’s curse.
She added, “Or is it revenge you want? Is it not enough that he die?”
He started walking again. When they reached the tent set aside for her and the children, he said, “When you came to the hill, you said you came to ask me something. What was it?”
She had annoyed him. Not smart when she needed a favor. “I perhaps sound like a crazy woman, Damon. I’m not. What I’ve said is true. Please believe me.”
She waited for his response. He merely held a questioning gaze steady.
She proceeded. “I can’t stay in Troy. This place, without Hektor, isn’t safe for me or Leonides and Myrina. I was going to return with Pentha to Themiskyra. I would like to ask if you would let me return with you.” For a second time she wondered if she should tell him before they parted that perhaps Pentha had carried his child, but once again reasoned that such news could only wound him—and Pentha had not even been certain. So that potentiality would have to be something kept to herself.
Damon smiled, that gentle smile that melted her insides like a gentle flame melted wax. “I would gladly take you back. I’m honored you’d ask my help. But I’ve decided I’ll not return.”
“You’ll stay here?”
“No. Not here. There is another place I’ve wanted to see again, and I can’t stand the thought of being in Themiskyra without Pentha.” He put a warm hand on her arm. “But I am sure, absolutely certain, Gyrn will take you with her if that’s where you want to go.”
“Where are you going?”
“A small place to the south.”
“Ephesus?”
He looked surprised.
“Pentha told me. They don’t live the Amazon way.”
“No. Men and women live together all the time as husband and wife. It’s the life I prefer. Maybe the most important thing Pentha taught me is that I’ve lived alone too many years.”
“I believe I would like that, too. I often wished I had been married to Hektor and could have lived with him.”
“Bremusa comes with me. She doesn’t want to return to Themiskyra without Clonie. I will gladly take you and the children.”
“I will think about it.” She turned to enter the tent.
He said, “I’m glad you came to talk. Your voice. It’s beautiful like Pentha’s.”
Deri returned his gaze. “Will you trust me about Achilles? You needn’t fight him.”
“I, too, will have to think.”
80
DRESSED IN A PURPLE TUNIC AND WEARING HER white fur cap, Penthesilea’s body lay on a bed of red and white rose petals in Priam’s own gold wagon, her battleax and quiver beside her and her body elevated high enough that all might see her one last time. Drawn by four horses, harnessed abreast, the wagon left the Themiskyran encampment in the late afternoon.
Fifty Themiskyran drummers led. A hundred mounted Amazons preceded the wagon, and a hundred followed it. Damon was pleased with the preparations, grateful to Bremusa and Priam for making them.
He, along with the other surviving Themiskyran commanders, rode in a chariot behind the mounted cavalry. Throngs of the entire Themiskyran entourage and the population of Troy lined the road between the encampment and the city, all of the mourners bearing charcoal-smeared faces. And when Pentha’s body passed, a great wailing rose, the eerie sound tracing the path of the gilded wagon.
As they approached the Trojan grand south gate, he heard Themiskyran singing offering a paean to Artemis. The Themiskyran women continued their chanting as the wagon drew up to the pyre, Amazon guards lifted Pentha’s bier, carried it up a ramp, and placed it in the center.
On an elevated dais near the gate, seated in gold inlaid chairs, were Priam and Hekuba, Helen, Andromache, Aeneas, and five of Priam’s other sons and their wives. Two seats remained empty: one for Damon and one for Bremusa. Oddly, Paris was absent.
Semele lit four bronze incense braziers that stood at the four corners of the pyre. Amazon archers took their places, fifty on each side of it. They held bows and arrows, and in front of each woman sat a small tripod with burning oil.
Carrying Pentha’s sword, Damon mounted the ramp and went to the bier, his chest tight, his feet numb. The lower rim of the setting sun touched the horizon.
He lifted her hand, wrapped it around the sword’s grip, and laid the blade across her chest. Frankincense circled his head, singing voices filled the twilight sky, and memories flashed through his mind: Pentha hanging upside down in a simple loop trap, and red-faced after with embarrassment; Pentha laughing the first time he fell off a horse; the look of her coming to him naked by the stream on that cold winter day when they first made love; the fierce light in her eyes when they had performed their duel in front of all Themiskyra; her kissing his hands when she thought she had lost him. He fought back tears.
HAVING GIVEN HIS OFFERING of gratitude to Apollo, Achilles left the god’s sanctuary, an ancient site not far outside the Achean wall. As this was sacred ground, and thus a safe place where no fighting was allowed, only a small contingent of men accompanied him. He would sacrifice next to Athena.
He stepped into the chariot car, and, at the moment the horses moved from the grove of trees outside the sanctuary, something flew past close to his left shoulder. He turned toward the grove. There was Priam’s son Paris, also in a chariot and with bow in hand, nocking an arrow.
“Go!” Achilles yelled to Automedon. His driver lashed the horses. They broke into a run. Another arrow whistled past. Achilles pulled a bow from its chariot pouch and nocked an arrow of his own.
With six other chariots, he raced across the plain toward the Acheans’ beach wall and its safety. He looked behind. Paris was alone! No other Trojan chariots. Just Paris and his driver.
“Turn!” Achilles yelled. He shot the arrow, which hit the front of Paris’ car. What kind of fool was Paris? He was outnumbered. Achilles and his men could slaughter him.
Another arrow from Paris flew past. Then, as Automedon had the chariot circled halfway around, a fourth arrow nicked Achilles in his bare, sandaled heel.
Now Paris also turned. His driver raced their chariot toward Troy, Achilles and the others in close pursuit.
Achilles felt a chill. He nocked another arrow. Shot it. It went wide as his chariot bumped over the rough plain. They weren’t gaining much on Paris, who must have come with his fastest horses.
A wrenching pain twisted Achilles’ gut. Then another. He dropped the bow. Another wrenching pain! His knees gave out.
He fell from the car.
Automedon reined in the horses, turned them, drew the chariot to a halt beside Achilles, and jumped out. The six other chariots raced up and stopped.
Achilles gasped. Automedon leaned over him, saying something Achilles could not understand. The pain in his gut—
/> “Help—” No other words were possible. The pain! Unbearable pain!
His insides were writhing and burning.
DAMON USED PENTHA’S ARROWHEAD to cut a lock of his hair. He laid it on the bier beside her, then strode back down the ramp, ascended the dais, and took his seat. Of Pentha’s Amazon commanders, only Bremusa had survived. She ascended the bier, cut a lock of her hair with her knife, and placed it beside Damon’s. Then came Phemios and four other surviving infantry commanders. Finally, Gryn and Derinoe.
When Pentha’s body was once more alone, Damon stood. He bowed to Priam, then Hekuba, and then faced the crowd. The singing stopped.
All faces turned toward him. Love. Pride. Grief. So many emotions churned within him. “In this battle, the women of Artemis led the warriors of Themiskyra and Troy to victory. The price was high. We, the people of Themiskyra and the people of Troy, have lost many courageous women and men. And we of Themiskyra suffer especially the death of our beloved Warrior Queen.”
He took a steadying breath, deepened his voice, and raised it still more. “But in your grief remember, as long as people have memories it will be know that at the battle for Troy, the free women of Artemis fought, and fought with courage. Let it soften your grief, as it does mine, to know that from this time, into the distant and unknown future, the name Penthesilea lives forever.”
He stepped back, the signal for the singers and archers. Once more voices filled the air with song, this time a newly composed paean to Penthesilea, Warrior Queen of Themiskyra.
Bremusa stepped forward. “Nock,” she commanded, and the Amazons on either side of the pyre set the ends of special arrows, with tips weighted heavily and wrapped with oil-soaked linen, to their bow strings. “Light,” she commanded, and each Amazon used her tripod’s fire to set her arrow ablaze. “Aim,” she said, and all one hundred archers bent back and aimed their arrows into the sky, seemingly straight up, but arched ever so slightly toward the pyre. “Release,” Bremusa commanded.
A hundred burning arrows streaked upward into the twilight, reached the top of their flight, began to fall toward the pyre, their heavy tips tilting them over so that almost as one, a hundred burning arrows hit the bier. As the upper rim of the sun fell below the western horizon, oil and then wood caught fire.
81
LOOKING AROUND, WAITING FOR DERINOE AND Bias, Damon itched to leave. To go. To be on the road. Damon had said all his goodbyes and the call to something new had him shifting from one foot to the other.
Achilles was dead just as Devinoe had predicted, and under the strangest conditions—seemingly felled by Paris with a single arrow to Achilles’ heel, of all places. Perhaps someday Damon would learn the full truth.
Gryn stood beside him, along with Phemios and a crowd of well-wishers. Earlier he had seen Bias, but where was the youth? Bias, like Bremusa, had decided to “see the world” rather than return home. Bias reminded Damon of himself at that same age.
Derinoe finally appeared, a large bundle in her hands and Leonides and Myrina running in front of her. The children ran to where Bremusa stood waiting beside her horse. Damon imagined that on this journey, Bremusa would always be the first ready—for anything the journey might throw in their path.
Derinoe said to Gryn, “It seems it’s impossible to always remember everything one should pack. Look at this!” She gestured to her bundle.
Gryn took Derinoe’s face in her hands and kissed Derinoe’s cheeks. She shook her head and said, “Are you troubled? You have such a very long journey ahead of you. So many unknowns.”
“Gryn, I can’t remember when I’ve been more at peace.” She looked to her children, Leonides assaulting Bremusa with questions about the care of her horse and Myrina petting the donkey tied behind the cart. Deri smiled. “If a woman with two children can ever be at peace.”
Bias trotted up to Phemios. “You take care of yourself,” he said to the commander. He stuck out his hand. In it lay a knife. Phemios stared. Bias shoved the knife toward Phemios, who reached to his belt, felt his knife sheath, and realized he’d been robbed. He grabbed Bias, thumped the boy on the back. “You devil!”
Bias skipped quickly to several Amazons: he produced an armband for Brie, a ring for Luna, and a bear-claw necklace for Aella. Each woman in turn, touched her arm, her finger, and her neck in amazement, so skillfully had the bandit done his work.
When he came to Gryn, she smiled. “It seems diligent practice has created a master.” He held out his hand, and in it was one of the pair of delicate gold and amber earrings Damon now realized Gryn always wore. As he looked to her ears, she put a hand to them, and her eyes mirrored the surprise Damon felt.
Damon cuffed Bias on the ear. “You’ve become a dangerous man.”
Bias turned to Gryn. His teacher smiled, and nodded.
Damon turned to Gryn. “Time to go.”
She nodded.
Damon gestured for Bias to climb aboard the seat of the double-ox wagon that carried their supplies and belongings. He gave his hand to Deri, and she climbed up and sat beside Bias. Leonides jumped onto the back of the wagon, and Damon handed Myrina up so she could ride beside her brother.
Phemios clasped Damon’s arm. “Travel safely,” he said.
Damon unfastened the belt holding his sword and handed both to Phemios. “It’s yours.”
Phemios shook his head. “I can’t take it, Damon.”
“Yes. It’s yours now. I intend to get by on my wits.”
He turned to Pentha’s dark chestnut mare, Dawn. Bremusa was already astride, leading her best brood mare.
Damon liked riding, and this was the beginning of a new life. A long journey lay ahead, and for long trips, there would be no more walking for him. No more wagons. And no more chariots. He did not have to follow Amazon—or Achean or Trojan—ways. This man would ride.
He did his best—he felt awkward—to swing himself onto Dawn’s back. Bias taunted, “You’ll be lucky if you don’t fall off her ten times today alone.”
The well-wishers followed them as far as the camp perimeter. Damon reached down the neck of his tunic and brought out the arrowhead. He embraced Pentha’s spirit for a moment, then let the arrowhead rest once more on his chest.
The children waved and called goodbye to friends they were leaving.
Damon noted, though, that Bias and Derinoe—neither looked back.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Women
Alcmene—Cassandra’s lady-in-waiting.
Andromache—wife of the Trojan prince, Hektor.
Bremusa—Penthesilea’s chief Amazon commander.
Cleite—Penthesilea’s mother.
Clonie—one of Penthesilea’s commanders, the companion of Bremusa.
Derinoe (Deri)—Pentha’s sister.
Euryclea—a woman who wants her daughter, Marpessa, to be Amazon Queen.
Evandre—one of Penthesilea’s commanders.
Gryn—Pentha’s adopted mother, magician, storyteller, Bias’ teacher.
Harmonia—Hearth Queen of Themiskyra.
Harmothoe—an Amazon expert in making and carrying fire.
Hekuba—wife of Priam, Queen of Troy.
Helen—wife of Menelaus, king of Sparta, who ran off with the Trojan Prince, Paris.
Hippolyta—Penthesilea’s step-sister, daughter of Gryn.
Marpessa—an Amazon commander who wants to be Warrior Queen.
Myrina—Derinoe’s daughter by Hektor.
Nausicaa—the mistress of Prince Hektor’s friend Glaukos.
Penthesilea (Pentha)—Warrior Queen of Themiskyra.
Semele—Priestess of Artemis at Troy.
Men
Achilles—an Achean warrior, son of King Peleus and the nymph Thetis.
Aeneas—second in command to the Trojan prince, Hektor.
Agamemnon—high king of the Acheans, brother of Menelaus.
Ajax—an Achean warrior of great strength and courage.
Automedon—Achilles’s chario
teer.
Bias—a Themiskyran boy who takes care of Damon’s animals.
Damonides (Damon)—Themiskyran man trained as an Achean warrior.
Glaukos—friend of the Trojan prince, Hektor, and lover of Nausicaa.
Grammeron—the Thracian (family) that holds the secret to navigating the Hellespont.
Hattusilis—Hittite ruler on the Amazon southern border.
Hektor—heir to the Trojan throne, husband of Andromache, and lover of Derinoe.
Leonides—Derinoe’s son by Achilles.
Menelaus—king of Sparta, and Helen’s husband.
Muttalusha—a Hittite merchant.
Nestor—one of the Achean kings who came to Troy.
Noemon—the old man who built Damon’s cabin and taught him falconry
Odysseus—one of the Achean kings who came to Troy.
Paris—youngest son of Priam, the lover of Helen.
Patroklos—cousin and companion of Achilles.
Phemios—Hippolyta’s lover and the Themiskyran infantry’s third in command.
Priam—king of Troy.
Trusis—headman in Themiskyra who becomes the infantry’s second in command.
Divinities or Mythological Figures
Apollo—son of Zeus, god of light, music, poetry and prophecy. In Greek mythology the twin of Artemis.
Artemis—at this time in history, an Asiatic goddess of the hunt and of women.
Athena—a daughter of Zeus who had no mother. She sprung, fully formed, from the head of Zeus.
Centaur—a rude, wild race with the upper body of a man and lower body of a horse.
The Fates—three goddesses thought to determine a child’s destiny.
Hydra—a monstrous water serpent with nine heads; its blood was poisonous.
Pegasus—a fabulous winged horse, born of the Gorgon Medussa and the god Poseidon.
Zeus—king of all the gods and goddesses of Mt. Olympus and Mt. Ida.
Animals
Gale—Hippolyta’s mare.
Dawn—Pentha’s mare.
