The Anger of Achilles Page 23

  ‘How do you know?’ demanded Briseis, turning angrily to me.

  ‘I saw him. He was with the priests of Anu who took the king’s body to the temple.’

  Aias swung round. ‘But the priests of Anu have been here preforming the rituals! They can’t have been in the palace!’

  ‘We should go and look at once!’ said Achilles and was already in motion. None of us stood any real chance of keeping up with him, especially not me. But Odysseus and Aias were fast enough to stay fairly close behind him. By the time Briseis and I reached the West Gate we had given up all hope of catching them. In any case, Briseis had other objectives. She stopped dead in the gateway itself and swung round, still frowning angrily. ‘When were you going to mention this to me?’ she demanded.

  ‘I thought you knew,’ I said simply. ‘Hepat and Demir must know because they were talking to him and his men. I was certain they would have told you.’

  ‘Apparently not,’ she said. ‘Apparently I am not the only one who sees Sarpedon as a chance to escape a life of slavery.’ The frown vanished. The anger left her voice. I couldn’t read either her tone or her expression. I had no idea whether she was telling the truth or whether this was another part of her plan to arrange the overthrow of the Achaean armies and escape a life of slavery.

  So I thought that this would be a good moment to continue my self-appointed mission. ‘It seemed to me,’ I said, ‘that if Hepat and Demir knew what was going on then you would too. What good could the gold do them? Buy them freedom? Standing? Power? They have been slaves all their lives and such things might be tempting, but only as a dream. How much more tempting, however, would it be to you who have been a princess all your life. Idas’ gold could save you from humiliation, from slavery, from men such as Aias. If you managed to get it to Sarpedon, with Glaucus’ help, he would surely be happy to treat you as a princess – perhaps as a queen.’

  ‘Sarpedon is married,’ she said. ‘And he has no intention of starting a harem like Priam of Troy.’

  ‘And Glaucus?’

  ‘Also married. And, were you to use your intelligence as much as your mouth you would see that even if I could give either of them the gold, it would not change my situation all that much. Unless they accepted me as a kind of royal camp-follower, all I could hope for would be a place as a refugee in their palaces waiting helplessly with their women as they themselves continued to battle Agamemnon’s armies beneath the walls of Troy.’

  ‘Even that would be better than slavery,’ I argued.

  ‘It would,’ she said. ‘But that kind of freedom is already mine if I want it – always assuming you can do what you promised and get Odysseus to send me to Queen Penelope in Ithaka. That is an outcome I should not mind, if all I have heard about Queen Penelope is true – and knowing King Odysseus, I suppose it would be. You see? I have no need of the gold.’

  ‘That is easy for you to say, Princess!’ I used my most ironic tone.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, stung, ‘I can do more than say it! I know where the gold is. I can show it to you if you’d like.’

  ‘You know…’

  ‘Don’t look so surprised. I’m certain King Odysseus knows just as well as I do. I’m surprised you haven’t worked it out yourself!’

  I lost my temper then, as much at her superior tone as anything else. ‘I don’t believe you!’ I spat. ‘If you know where it is then take me to it! Show it to me!’

  My disbelief and anger sparked her own. ‘Very well,’ she snapped. ‘Let’s go!’

  iv

  Briseis marched right in through the West Gate and turned towards the agora as I fought to keep up with her. ‘How do you know…’ I called breathlessly.

  ‘The rope was a help,’ she answered unhelpfully. This was a trick that Odysseus sometimes used, throwing out suggestions and ideas as though I had any real notion of their relevance or importance. It was frustrating when he did it; it was infuriating when Briseis did it. I decided I would not rise to her bait. Instead I followed her silently, my mind racing to try and make sense of what she said.

  By the time we reached the agora itself, however, I still hadn’t worked it out so I capitulated. ‘What about the rope?’ I asked.

  Briseis stopped beside the well I had nearly fallen down. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘The rope is newer than the others. It is stronger than the others. It has been tied recently and not very expertly at either end. The lower end does not reach the surface of the lake but a boat still floating below the well itself. The upper end could easily have been untied and attached to something else. And, before you ask what else, remember how interested Odysseus was in the shoulders of the oxen that were penned here before they were taken for slaughter as part of the ritual.’

  ‘I see,’ I said. ‘You believe the gold and perhaps the boat-man was lifted up from the boat using this rope and a yoke pulled by a pair of the sacrificial oxen. That it is somewhere near here?’

  ‘A boat and a hand cart have been used to move it already – so why not load it back onto the handcart we discovered in the cavern where Sutekh’s men attacked us, then load it onto a boat on the underground lake? Then it would be easy enough to push it or pole it into position depending how deep the lake is. The rope and the oxen make lifting it easy enough and quick too if, as obviously happened this morning, you wait for the city to be empty because everyone is at the rituals beside the pyres. After the gold, pulling up a man should present few problems. Then all you require is another handcart and some time to reattach the rope. And you have smuggled the gold right across the city with no one any the wiser.’

  ‘I see,’ I said. ‘But why go to all this trouble? Why smuggle it across the city in the first place? Where is its final destination?’

  ‘Ah! You do see that it has a final destination do you? Beyond the vaguer suppositions that it’s maybe bound for the Temple of Teshub on Lesbos or somehow into Sarpedon’s coffers?’

  ‘Or both,’ I added, ‘or even a third one we haven’t discovered yet – as there appears to be more than one set of people after it.’

  ‘Well reasoned,’ said Briseis. ‘But in the meantime, let’s see what we can find in the real world rather than in the world of speculation.’ She swung round and led the way out of the agora. Her footsteps led us unhesitatingly into a section of the city I had not visited. South of the agora the buildings were all devastated, burned-out wrecks, showing all-too clearly the handiwork of Aias’ Locrians. The road she was following was by no means wide and every now and then it was further narrowed by piles of rubble: tiles slipped off ruined roofs, walls collapsing outward. But it wasn’t long before I began to notice that the larger piles showed signs of having been rearranged so the sprawls of brick and terracotta that had almost closed the thoroughfare were pushed back. Sometimes, in the dust and soot left behind, it was possible to see footsteps and wheel marks.

  I had no sooner begun to understand the pattern than the princess turned aside. We entered the ruin of a larger dwelling, prompted to do so by the near-closure of the street immediately ahead. The roof remained above the room we entered, though it was mostly black beams supporting gap-toothed tiles. Further in, it had fallen altogether. I didn’t notice all this at first because my attention was captured by the very thing the princess had brought me here to see. Tucked into a secret corner, completely invisible from the road and unsuspected by anyone except Briseis and whoever had put it here, there was a hand cart. On the cart stood the chest that contained Idas’ treasure and, as though supporting the princess in mocking me, a yoke that would fit the neck and shoulders of a pair of oxen.

  ‘But where is it bound for?’ I whispered, awed by the princess’ perspicacity and by the presence of the gold. It had not quite dawned on me yet, despite my determination to suspect the worst of her, that she might well know where it was and where it was going because she had had a hand in its movements so far. A hand possibly holding a knife.

  ‘In the longer term, I’m not quite sure,’ she answered
, her voice also low. ‘But in the short term, out through the south postern gate.’

  ‘The south…’

  ‘Don’t tell me you hadn’t worked it out. I thought you would have understood the city’s layout perfectly by now. The great gates to east and west, each with its own little postern gate to help defend it – uselessly as things transpired of course. But if there was a postern in the north wall, surely you must have suspected there was a postern in the south wall too. And so conveniently placed, of course. Whether the gold is going to Teshub or Sarpedon – or whether it is just going out of the foul Prince Aias’ greedy grasp, the logical way for it to go is south. Because all you oh-so-clever Achaeans are relentlessly headed north… Hide! Quickly!’

  ***

  Something in Briseis’ tone made me obey even as I was having second thoughts. Was this another trick? Or something more devious and dangerous? I had been a fool to follow her blindly to such an isolated location. By the time these suspicions claimed my mind I was already wriggling amongst the rubble of the collapsed roof in the rear of the house. There were splinters, shards of shattered terracotta, all sorts of sharp points and edges. Nevertheless I managed to squirm through it all without damaging myself too badly. In the midst of the wreckage was a little cavern that was relatively uncluttered and I crouched here, breathless, certain that I could not be seen unless a good deal of the ruined roof was moved away first. I could not see out, but I could hear and the first thing I heard was a series of heavy footsteps – the approach of which I supposed had alerted Briseis and caused her to warn me.

  The footsteps changed their tenor as, I guessed, they entered the door. ‘You!’ snarled a voice in Anatolian. ‘What are you doing here, slave?’

  ‘Following the gold,’ answered Briseis in Achaean – for my benefit I supposed.

  Her interrogator apparently noticed nothing strange for he continued, also speaking Achaean, with a heavy accent. ‘What concern is the gold of yours? Especially as a good deal of it is armour!’

  ‘I had supposed it might buy my freedom. From a prince worthy of golden armour.’

  ‘Freedom? Who would free you?’

  ‘Prince Sarpedon, perhaps. Or even you, Prince Glaucus. Are you worthy of golden armour and a princess such as me?’

  ‘You would buy your freedom from me with gold I already possess? You clearly do not understand how business works. But as you have thrust yourself into this situation and as you are not unattractive, then yes. Perhaps I will accept you as my slave to serve me, keep my quarters tidy, my bed warm and my armour polished. You must be well aware of the alternative.’

  ‘I am well aware you dare not harm me, Prince Glaucus. I am already the possession of Prince Achilles, and under the protection of King Odysseus. They both know you are here in the city and if they even lose sight of me for any length of time they will know what has happened and they will hunt you down. And if they find you have done me serious harm they will avenge me – for the sake of their honour if not for my life. You could never out-think Odysseus or outfight Achilles.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right. But only if nothing in the current situation changes. Perhaps they will soon be too busy out-thinking and out-fighting my cousin Prince Sarpedon to be worried about the fate of a mere slave girl with notions above her station. I the mean time I do need to deal with you…’

  ‘You dare not!’ she said.

  ‘I dare!’ he answered.

  There was the sound of a heavy blow and of a body falling. A rustling, as of someone stooping, and a grunt as of someone lifting something – an unconscious body perhaps. Then the heavy footsteps went out into the street and away.

  v

  ‘What you have to understand,’ said Odysseus some time later as he looked around the wrecked room where Briseis had been knocked out and carried away, ‘is that the princess has a value to men like Glaucus and Sarpedon. Whether they are worthy of golden armour or not, they are all great warriors, well used to passing time with certain types of women. Compliant women for the most part. They have wives from their own station in life. Women who have been brought up to wed for dynastic rather than romantic reasons. To lie with their aristocratic husbands and to bear them children who will continue the royal bloodline. It is rare that love or desire enters this arrangement – though I understand that Prince Hector of Troy and his wife Princess Andromache of Thebe share an unusually deep affection, as indeed did King Euenos and his queen until she died in childbirth. Other than that, there are slaves and servants who dare not refuse their masters’ lustful demands.’

  ‘I see,’ I said – though in truth I didn’t really do so. ‘But how does this have anything to do with Briseis?’ I had run to find Odysseus of course as soon as it was safe for me to escape and he had accompanied me back here with Elpenor and several crewmen from Thalassa to find that the handcart with the gold had also vanished in the interim.

  ‘Briseis is that unusual creature, one worth preserving and savouring for men such as I have described.’ Odysseus continued as he examined the floor, seeking clues amongst the footprints and wheel-tracks there. ‘An unwilling bedmate who will fight back – a worthy opponent for a great war leader, or a man who sees himself as one. Someone who might wear scratches on his shoulders and face as impressive battle scars; proof of a wildcat tamed. The prospect of overcoming such fierce resistance as part of their so-called lovemaking must be infinitely tempting to such men. I have heard it said that Agamemnon himself inclines that way. I can certainly imagine Clytemnestra fighting his advances if she found them ill-timed or inappropriate.’

  ‘It’s like what we have seen in Aias,’ I said, beginning to understand what he meant. ‘But Briseis belongs to Achilles as she said. So…’

  ‘Achilles is a different matter,’ he said, straightening. ‘To begin with, he is so certain of his strength and standing he has no need to prove anything, even in bed. Then there is his honour, which would be damaged in his eyes were he to force himself on an unwilling partner, especially on one who actually fought to resist him. He is more used to women fighting to be with him, like his wife Princess Deidamia did, when he was disguised on Skyros if you recall. And let us not forget there is Patroclus, who is master of Achilles’ deepest affections. No, she need not fear Achilles.’

  ‘But we need to find her before Glaucus…’

  ‘We need to find her, but you need not fear Glaucus will be rushing to abuse her, even if she has underestimated his fear of Achilles and me. That is a delight he will wish to savour and to perform at some length in the security of the Lycan camp. Not while he’s hiding like a thief in the ruins of a conquered city. We need to catch Glaucus too, because we may find him useful if Sarpedon arrives unexpectedly early. But, thinking along those lines, there is another element you should consider when you worry about the princess. Unharmed and unmolested, she is a potent bargaining counter should things fall out badly for Prince Glaucus. She belongs to Achilles and it would of course enhance his honour to have her returned safe and sound while doing yet more untold damage to it if he let her fall victim to Glaucus or Sarpedon.’

  ‘But Sarpedon is days away,’ I said.

  ‘Sarpedon’s army is days away,’ said Odysseus. ‘That’s not quite the same thing.’

  ‘If what the princess said is true,’ I continued, ‘Glaucus and she will be somewhere between here and the postern gate in the south wall. He has no idea I was with her and heard their conversation when he took her. He moved the gold as part of his own plan – not because he suspected I knew where it was. Though I suppose he might have been further motivated by the fact that the princess found it. But the point is that if we can work out what his plans were, then he probably won’t have changed them just because of Briseis.’

  ‘Very well then,’ said Odysseus. ‘We must assume that a man of Glaucus’ pride would not wish to be seen scuttling out of the southern postern pushing a handcart. He must be expecting Sarpedon to arrive in numbers if not in force. And those num
bers need to move swiftly – in chariots, therefore. So we ask ourselves, How could Glaucus get the gold out of the city and into the protection of Sarpedon’s chariots? Where must he be and what must he be preparing to do?’

  ‘Sarpedon’s chariots,’ I said. ‘How do you think Sarpedon is going to get his chariots across the river where we found Gul-Ses’ corpse in sufficient numbers to pose any kind of a threat at all?’

  ‘The rock!’ he answered. ‘Did you not understand the importance of the rock?’

  ***

  Before I could even enquire what Odysseus meant by that, Perimedes arrived. ‘The watch-keepers have spotted movement far to the south,’ he gasped.

  Odysseus’ attention switched away from me and our conversation at once. ‘The chariots!’ he said. ‘Quickly! We must call the kings together and prepare the chariots!’ he swung back to me. ‘Go to the palace,’ he ordered. ‘It is too late to worry about the princess now. Go to the palace and keep safe.’ Then he and his men were off at a run.

  I stood there with my mind completely blank, as though I was no longer a man but a statue. Then a thought came – I was not going to hide in the palace; I was going to try and find the princess. The thought ended there. I did not even begin to speculate how I would help her if I found her because I would almost certainly find Glaucus as well and he would have no compunction at all about killing me. Whether he slit my throat or not, the deed would be done. I would need, therefore, to be incredibly careful, enormously lucky and – for a time at least – best beloved of the gods.

  I returned to the street and looked around. I noticed at once that the rubble that had prevented the hand cart from going further south had been cleared back. Tracking the princess and her captor might well be beyond me but tracking the cart was easy. I went from one pushed-back pile to the next, following the occasional set of footmarks and wheel tracks in the sooty dust. At last the postern in the south wall stood before me. But between me and the gate, one last sprawl of bricks and tiles closed the road. I stood still, looking from right to left. The house on my right was utterly destroyed, but to my left there was a doorway. The wall in which it stood was sagging and the roof above it skeletal, but it was the only way to go and so I went in. Unlike the house where Briseis and I had found the gold, this one was more damaged on the street side. The rooms beyond were relatively untouched. Holding my breath, I went through.