by Peter Tonkin
I carried it all up onto the main deck where I found the captain standing looking thoughtfully at his closed fist. Closer inspection showed me that a length of silver chain was hanging down on either side of his clenched fingers. I began to speak, but he unclenched them to reveal a tiny silver amphora. ‘It’s full of oil scented with sandalwood and myrrh,’ he said ‘Such as a woman of the court might anoint herself with. Lost sometime during a hurried disembarkation I suspect. Now what have you found?’
I showed him. Each of the bags I had found contained a lyre. One even simpler than mine and suited to an apprentice, the other a much more complex and beautiful instrument – the lyre of a master rhapsode.
***
‘So, said Odysseus as he looked at them pensively. ‘Now we know which ship Dion and his apprentice were on to begin with. Which ship they both died beside. And that at one time or another there may have been women aboard as well. But who else has been aboard and who was it who wielded the fatal knives?’
Our search revealed little else, much like the search of Hesira’s room. The ships were no more designed to accommodate crew or passengers overnight than Odysseus’ Thalassa was. If for any reason it was necessary to stay aboard at sea in the dark hours, the oarsmen would have to sleep at their benches and the sailhandlers on the oar-deck between them. The captain, navigator, any senior officers or any important passengers would bunk down in the basic cabin beneath the steering board aft. This was the only area aboard not given over to storage of one sort or another. If there were personal possessions aboard other than those no longer needed by the two dead men, then they had all been taken ashore with their owners. But it was obvious to both of us that the two cabins aft of the oar-decks would have provided ample housing for a good number of women if they wanted privacy while they were aboard.
But where were the women and the crews who had brought them here?
We waded ashore, laden with the bags and clothing. I loaded it over my donkey’s withers then woke up Elpenor and the other two oarsmen who were apparently able to guard our backs in their sleep. As I did this, the captain took one last look at the beach and the hard mud roadway leading down the slope towards it. My own cursory glance revealed nothing more than the faintest scarring of footprints, slightly deeper hoofprints, their presence confirmed by the occasional pile of horse dung whose age suggested our own visit today, Hypatios’ visit last night and other visits earlier still. I was pondering this when Odysseus called, ‘That’s enough. Mount up!’
We mounted up stiffly and trotted up the pathway to the citadel. We could see from some distance away that the gates were open. From closer at hand we could also see that they needed repair, sagged crazily and would not close anyway. Moreover, they were unguarded. But then, we were no invading army, hardly even a group of piratical sea-raiders. There was no need to guard the place against us nor indeed to give any warning of our approach. Which was just as well. Like sparrows in an eagle’s nest the two crews managed to occupy hardly any of the space. They had erected their camp between the well and what must once have been the citadel’s cooking area. They might not have been Myrmidons, but they were oarsmen and warriors of the Phthian forces. Although they were idle enough now, they had clearly been busy earlier. In process of being butchered for the fire, there were pigs, good-sized herons and what looked like a small wild horse as well as a variety of fish including a pair of fat dolphins.
A couple of the oarsmen looked up, with little interest to begin with, but as soon as they recognised Odysseus, a stir ran through the assembled men and they began to pull themselves to their feet. Odysseus swung himself off his horse and strode a little stiffly towards them, nevertheless achieving a slight swagger. He became a man amongst men; indeed, a captain among sailors. ‘Are you well set here, men?’ he boomed. ‘You want for nothing? Lord Hypatios has seen to your comfort while you wait?’
These apparently simple questions cunningly established him at once as an intimate part of whatever was going on. ‘I see he has arranged for the pigs and the dolphins to be delivered from the royal kitchens, quite a load even for the cart, though you’ve done well with your own hunting by the look of things; as long as that horse meat tastes as good as it looks! Will you need anything more in the near future? Any messages I can pass along?’
‘No, Captain,’ the self-appointed leader of the men looked over his shoulder. There was a general shaking of heads amongst his companions.
‘You don’t want me to replace the women, then?’ asked Odysseus with a wink.
‘No, Captain. They never had anything to do with us in any case. They were passengers, not playthings. We steered as clear of them as we could.’
‘Of course, of course. Too good to mix with common oarsmen and sailhandlers, eh? Neither on one ship nor the other.’ As Odysseus said this, I was struck by something I should have noticed earlier. Oarsmen and sailhandlers were all that seemed to be here. There were no women—as had been immediately obvious. But there was no-one clearly in command as Odysseus so obviously was aboard Thalassa. There didn’t even seem to be a pilot or steersman, the second most important officers aboard. It looked as though it wasn’t just the women, whoever they might be, who had been spirited away. But as I thought of this, I sensed something else as well. The atmosphere was changing; cooling. There was just the faintest frisson of suspicion in the air.
‘That’s true, captain,’ the spokesman said guardedly. ‘Though hardly surprising.’
‘Quite. Quite. But the disappearance of the rhapsode and his apprentice must have surprised all of you who were aboard the same ship?’
‘A mystery to be certain, Captain. Two mysteries indeed. But nothing for common oarsmen and sailhandlers like us to concern ourselves with. So we were told.’ The man’s tone was becoming suspicious now. Odysseus had clearly pushed his luck that little bit too far—had his fortune been Thalassa’s sail, he would just have lost the wind.
v
Odysseus felt the change of mood as clearly as I did. ‘Ah, well,’ he said. ‘As long as Lord Hypatios has seen you comfortably settled. Let’s hope he had made sure the women were as comfortable, eh?’
‘It wasn’t Lord Hypatios who brought the food and took the women,’ said the sailor. ‘It was Captain Adonis. And he led our captains and pilots away with them as well as a good number of crewmen. If you want to know any more, Captain, perhaps you had better talk to them.’ There was an air of finality in his tone. When he stopped speaking there was something about his silence that reminded me of the walls of Priam’s citadel at Troy: overwhelming and impregnable. He turned away and so did all the others. I suddenly realised that they were scared to tell us more. More than scared; terrified, perhaps, that they had told the wrong man too much already.
‘So, Lycomedes is directly involved with the ships and their passengers,’ said Odysseus as we rode back towards Skyros’ main port and major city. ‘And not just in terms of hosting Agamemnon’s emissaries. Precisely how does it involve whatever the situation Queen Larisa was discussing with him? Who are the women Captain Adonis removed from the ships and where are they hiding now?’
‘Surely they must be hiding in the women’s quarters,’ I said. ‘It’s the most obvious and convenient place. And, now I think of it, I was disturbed when we first arrived by the way we were all being watched as we walked up from the port to the palace. Do you think Lycomedes could be hiding the officers in selected houses in the city rather than trying to keep them out of sight at the court?’
‘It’s possible,’ said Odysseus. ‘Probable, even. But why?’
After a while, the way the two lyre-bags kept jarring against my knees prompted me to change the subject and bring up something that had been worrying me ever since I first noticed it. ‘Did anyone notice Lycomedes’ rhapsode’s face?’ I asked. ‘The fact that he’s been blinded on purpose?’
‘Yes,’ answered Elpenor. ‘I did. I asked one of the servants about it. Nasty story. They all call the rhapsode A
ctaeon now though I don’t know his original name. Actaeon after the huntsman who went into a forbidden grove in the forest and caught the goddess Artemis naked at her bath. In the story he was torn to pieces. Lycomedes’ version is worse, if anything. Apparently the rhapsode found a way of going into the forbidden areas of the harem. He fell in love with one of Queen Larisa’s handmaidens. Don’t ask me how, given the way the king keeps the women hidden away and wrapped up in those veils and robes. But he did manage to get in there, meet a woman and fall in love. And she fell in love with him. They started seeing each-other in secret, somewhere in the women’s quarters, so they say. Until one night they were caught. Lycomedes was outraged and decided to make an example of them. He had the whole court assemble on that big open space at the top of the cliff behind the palace. He ordered a brazier and he heated a dagger until it was almost melting. He had the lovers brought to the very edge of the ledge, then he personally pushed the woman over and ordered the dagger pressed to the rhapsode’s face so that the last thing he would ever see was his beloved falling down that cliff to her death on the rocks below.’
Speechless with horror at Elpenor’s brutal tale, we trotted on in silence until we reached the overgrown wilderness that had once belonged to Theseus. Then, as though his thoughts were simply too much to keep silently in his head, Odysseus started speaking. ‘Of course the only women involved with Peleus’ ships are Queen Thetis and her handmaidens. It seems most likely that they set sail for Mount Pelion or rather that they let everyone believe Pelion was their destination. Then they turned round and caught up with the ship carrying Dion and his secret message to Lycomedes.’ He paused and rode on in silence for a few more moments, ordering his thoughts. ‘If this is so,’ he continued, ‘we can only assume that Queen Thetis’ desire to stop the message was even greater than her need to find Achilles. And she, or someone with the same motive, certainly did stop the message. While the two ships sat side by side on that beach in Skopelos, the apprentice died in case the rhapsode had shared the message with him. The footprints of whoever carried and buried his corpse were even smaller than yours, lad. Two women, therefore. Which also might explain the shallow grave. Then at least some of the women moved from one ship to the other and, soon after they sailed, while still in the grip of that westward current we had to fight to free Thalassa from, Dion was stabbed in turn and pitched overboard. By the gods’ good graces he found the wreckage to cling to and so was swept round the north of Euboea Island and under our bows as we sailed from Aulis to Phthia even though he had bled to death long before we found him. And so the two ships came secretly to Skyros.
‘Where, by some prompting I can not yet explain, King Lycomedes sent some of his most trusted guards to help them, to feed the crew while they waited on the beach then in the ruined citadel, and to give the officers, some of the crew and their female passengers shelter. Of course it is the female passengers who are at least part of this. Or rather, not the females themselves but the queen they serve. Thetis must be at the heart of this. Queen Thetis said she would sail north to Mount Pelion in search of Achilles. Instead she turned south, met up with the vessel carrying Peleus’ messenger destined for Lycomedes.’
***
‘What could the message have been, if stopping it was even more important to Queen Thetis than finding Achilles?’ I wondered aloud. ‘It must be that the two old kings have been conspiring to arrange for Achilles to lead his Myrmidons at Agamemnon’s side after all. To send Achilles and his men instead of leading their own armies to Troy. Surely, Captain, you cannot have been the only king who realises that Agamemnon’s Trojan expedition is more likely to take years rather than months. That if it does, it will probably ruin the kingdoms of any kings who accompany him, whether they survive the encounter or not.’
‘The boy has a point, Captain,’ said Elpenor. ‘Both Peleus and Lycomedes are old. The lines of their succession are uncertain. If they send sons to represent them, they might father more sons in the meantime if the ones at Troy die, though Lycomedes has only fathered daughters so far and we all know the trouble Peleus has had just getting one child. And if they send someone else, at least they will still be there to ensure that their kingdoms remain safe and secure.’
‘Nestor can afford to come to war,’ I added. ‘Pylos is rich. Its slave women tend the reedbeds, strip, dry, spin and weave the flax that becomes the linen for our clothes and your sails. He can afford to take his sons, Princes Pisistratus, Stratichus and Thrasymedes with him to the war because he can still rely on young Prince Aretus to look after things during their absence. Peleus and Lycomedes do not have that freedom of movement or anything like it.’
‘Besides,’ mused Odysseus, ‘there seems little doubt that Ajax, Pisistratus, Stratichus and Thrasymedes at least, are burning with desire to get onto the battlefield and earn reputations to rival those of the past heroes. And there is little doubt in my mind that Achilles is equally keen to go with them. More so, indeed. All his friends and relations of the same age and generation such as Nestor’s sons and even his cousin Ajax would come to Agamemnon’s war alongside armies supplied by their fathers. Only Prince Achilles would arrive at the head of his own army. The army that is likely to be the best army involved. He will answer Agamemnon’s call, he and his Myrmidons, unless he can be stopped. And the one person with most invested in stopping him is his mother.’
But,’ I said, ‘all the others have mothers as well as fathers! Even if Achilles is her only son, what is it that drives Queen Thetis to such an extreme to save him from going to war alongside Agamemnon?’
‘That’s another story I’m surprised you haven’t heard,’ said Odysseus. ‘Achilles isn’t Queen Thetis’ only son. He’s actually her seventh son.’
I gaped in surprise and confusion. ‘Her seventh son?’ I said at last. ‘Achilles is her seventh son?’
‘He is. But all the others died at birth. Imagine how that must have affected her. Six dead babies one after the other, then one that lived. Lived to become the most beautiful and talented youth of his generation. The pride of any parent’s heart. The most precious gift the gods could ever give. And now he wants to go to war alongside his peers, friends and relations. He seeks to make a name that will echo down the ages like those of the earlier generations he wants to emulate—perhaps to surpass! Like Hercules, Theseus, Jason and the rest. To make himself immortal.’ He paused, lowered his voice and then continued. ‘While Queen Thetis is absolutely certain, that if he goes with Agamemnon, he will unquestionably be slaughtered beneath the walls at Troy!’
6 - The Seventh Son
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‘So,’ I said, ‘Queen Thetis is happy to leave Achilles and Patroclus safely on Mount Pelion with their tutor Chiron while she personally stops the two old kings putting their plan into action and sending Achilles off to war instead of them. And she is, as we speak, with her women hidden somewhere in Lycomedes’ impenetrable harem, making certain that the old kings’ stratagem comes to nothing, even if they have to kill in order to do so.’ I fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. ‘Which explains why Ajax was poisoned. Because Ajax like Dion could well have been carrying a message to Lycomedes, even though he set out for Skyros first. And I guess Hesira the physician met his end because he cured Ajax. But still, I can’t imagine how she has forced Lycomedes to become a part of her plans. Especially as her intention is to forestall his aims at any cost.’
‘I see three possible reasons,’ said Odysseus. ‘First, everyone has secrets and I assume Queen Thetis knows what Lycomedes’ most dangerous secret is. Or, secondly, he is going along with her demands for the moment because he believes he has a way he can outwit her in the end. Or, thirdly, there is an element in this situation that we haven’t understood or made allowance for.’
‘If she’s holding some threat over him, which seems to be most likely, then it must be potentially very damaging to his country and his kingship,’ I said.
‘Or to his personal standing and reputatio
n,’ nodded Odysseus. ‘Which, as we can all see, are enormously important to him. He loves his royal rituals, his power, his unquestioned authority. The respect he enjoys throughout Achaea; the way in which even other kings are a little jealous of him and his harem full of the loveliest women, slave and free, anywhere in Achaea. So it must be something that will cost him all of this. Some revelation that he fears even more than falling-in behind Agamemnon and leading an army across to Troy with Peleus at his side instead of Achilles.’
‘Which we all agree would be potentially disastrous for any kingdom whose king does go to Troy. Even for your kingdom of Ithaca, Majesty, though it seems that your situation is far stronger than most, with the possible exception of Nestor’s at Pylos. Although your son Telemon is far too young to take over from you, your wife Penelope is capable of holding things together for you. Famously so.’
