Shield Of Thunder Part 23

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE FOG OF WAR.

Earlier that night, after the sun fell below the horizon to reveal a sky full of stars, Odysseus had stood on the walls of King's Joy, nursing a pain in his shoulder and a wound to his heart.

Three days previously, his valiant force of Ithakans and Kephallenians had been fighting on the Scamander plain when the Trojan Horse had punched into the western armies like a battering ram, turning a knife-edge battle into a near rout.

Two of Hektor's riders had charged as one into Odysseus' infantry, each guarding the other's flank, hacking with their swords, killing and wounding all around them. As one rider raised his sword high to slash at a young crewman from the Bloodhawk, Bloodhawk, Odysseus, running up behind, lanced a spear deep into the rider's side, straight into the heart. The bronze spear head lodged under a rib. Odysseus tried to drag it out but pulled the dead rider off his horse. With dead and dying warriors around him, the Ithakan king was slow to get out of the way, and the body fell on him, dislocating his shoulder. The arm bone had been wrenched back into place by Podaleirios, the Thessalian surgeon, but even now, days later, Odysseus was still in pain. He had thrown away the sling he had been given and had hidden his discomfort from others. But now, as he moved his arm experimentally, as if swinging a sword, he cursed as agony fired through his shoulder. Odysseus, running up behind, lanced a spear deep into the rider's side, straight into the heart. The bronze spear head lodged under a rib. Odysseus tried to drag it out but pulled the dead rider off his horse. With dead and dying warriors around him, the Ithakan king was slow to get out of the way, and the body fell on him, dislocating his shoulder. The arm bone had been wrenched back into place by Podaleirios, the Thessalian surgeon, but even now, days later, Odysseus was still in pain. He had thrown away the sling he had been given and had hidden his discomfort from others. But now, as he moved his arm experimentally, as if swinging a sword, he cursed as agony fired through his shoulder.

Twenty years ago, he thought irritably, or even ten, I would have shaken off this injury within a day.

The greater agony, though, was in his heart. He remembered Penelope's words years before on the beach at Ithaka. "I fear you will have hard choices to make. Do not make bullheaded decisions you will regret afterward and cannot change. Do not take these men into a war, Odysseus." "I fear you will have hard choices to make. Do not make bullheaded decisions you will regret afterward and cannot change. Do not take these men into a war, Odysseus."

"I have no wish for war, my love," he had told her, and he had meant it.

How the G.o.ds on Olympos must be reveling in the irony, he thought ruefully. Or perhaps his wife's fear never should have been voiced at all, lest the G.o.ds were listening and chose to make it real.

For here he was, within sight of the Golden City, his loyal men fighting side by side with the Mykene for Agamemnon, whose obsession was to destroy the city, kill Odysseus' former friends, and take its wealth for himself.

He remembered Helikaon's words to him at their last meeting: "I have not seen Priam's h.o.a.rd of gold, but it would have to be mountainous to maintain the expense of this war. Gold pa.s.ses from the city every day, to hire mercenaries, to bribe allies. And there is little coming in now. If the fighting goes on much longer and you do take the city, you may find nothing of real worth." "I have not seen Priam's h.o.a.rd of gold, but it would have to be mountainous to maintain the expense of this war. Gold pa.s.ses from the city every day, to hire mercenaries, to bribe allies. And there is little coming in now. If the fighting goes on much longer and you do take the city, you may find nothing of real worth."

Odysseus smiled grimly to himself. Agamemnon and his fellow kings still had faith in the riches of Priam. At least they had a reason to fight. What is your excuse, Ugly One? What is your excuse, Ugly One? he heard Penelope say. he heard Penelope say. Because you gave your word? Is your word so powerful, so sacred, that you must fight with your enemies against your friends? Because you gave your word? Is your word so powerful, so sacred, that you must fight with your enemies against your friends?

Three days before, battling on the plain alongside the armies of the Mykene, he had seen the Trojan Horse thundering down the valley. And he had felt his heart leap as if Hektor and his riders were coming to his own rescue.

Odysseus sighed. War made strange sword brothers. He despised Agamemnon and his fellow kings. Idomeneos was greedy and mendacious. Menestheos of Athens and Agapenor of Arcadia were no better. The weakling Menelaus did whatever his brother told him. Nestor was a kinsman of Penelope, and Odysseus liked the old man, yet he had been beguiled by the promise of Priam's treasure, too. Only Achilles was at Troy on a mission of honor, to find the warrior who had ordered his father's death and avenge him.

He thought back to Hektor's wedding games, when wily Priam had declared Odysseus an enemy of Troy. A less prideful man merely would have left the city. But Odysseus, slighted and insulted, had allowed his pride to force him into the arms of this rabble of kings. It was true that he was guilty as accused of hiring an a.s.sa.s.sin to kill Helikaon's father, but only to protect Helikaon, whom the same a.s.sa.s.sin had been paid to kill.

Now Odysseus, sick to the soul, had left his loathsome allies drinking and quarreling in the megaron megaron of King's Joy and had walked up to the terrace for fresher air. of King's Joy and had walked up to the terrace for fresher air.

He looked around. Agamemnon's Followers, his henchmen, had roasted two pigs there earlier, and the terrace smelled of blood and burned meat. Then they had played a game with one of the pigs' heads, kicking it around until it was a shapeless black ma.s.s. Odysseus picked it up and gazed at it for a moment before throwing it over the wall. He smiled to himself, thinking of the pig Ganny, first rescued from the sea and then, in his yellow cloak, sitting as if listening to Odysseus' tale of the golden fleece on the pirates' beach.

"By Apollo's b.a.l.l.s, Ganny, my boy, we had some adventures together!" he said out loud.

Cheered by the memory, he strolled to the western side of the terrace. In the starlight he could see down to the Bay of Herakles, its white sand scarcely visible under the hulls of the hundreds of s.h.i.+ps beached there. A sitting target for Helikaon's fire hurlers, he thought. Had Agamemnon learned nothing from his disaster at Imbros? Odysseus had heard no news of the Xanthos Xanthos since it had left Ithaka but prudently had quietly moved most of his own fleet farther down the coast to a small hidden cove. since it had left Ithaka but prudently had quietly moved most of his own fleet farther down the coast to a small hidden cove.

He turned and looked in the other direction, to the walls of Troy lying moonlit in the distance, like a city of magic from one of his stories, and, before him, the plain of the Scamander, where the Trojan army was camped, waiting. The myriad lights of their campfires showed they were formed in defensive squares. Hektor would not be stupid enough to attack, he knew, as the idiot Menelaus had claimed. A man with no sense of strategy a.s.sumes others are as stupid as he is. Odysseus glanced down to where soldiers had labored to dig an inner earthwork. A waste of time and energy, he thought, and just another obstacle when we attack. The stupidity angered him. Looking south, along the valley of the Scamander, he saw that a blanket of thick mist was forming over the river and starting to roll slowly toward the Trojan armies on the plain. They cannot see it coming, he realized. Before long they will not be able to see their swords in front of their noses.

His mind working quickly, he left the terrace and stomped back down the stone stairs to the megaron, megaron, to be greeted by drunken shouts and laughter. Menelaus was lying on the floor in a pool of wine, apparently unconscious. Agamemnon gazed expressionlessly at the Ithakan king. Agamemnon never drank, and Odysseus always was careful not to drink in his company. to be greeted by drunken shouts and laughter. Menelaus was lying on the floor in a pool of wine, apparently unconscious. Agamemnon gazed expressionlessly at the Ithakan king. Agamemnon never drank, and Odysseus always was careful not to drink in his company.

"Well," said the Mykene king, "the tale spinner has chosen to join us again. We are honored. Have you a story to entertain us tonight, Prince of Lies?"

Odysseus ignored the insult and said nothing, merely standing in the doorway until he had their attention.

"Sober up quickly, you drunken sots," he bellowed. "I have a plan."

Achilles, unarmored and wearing a simple black kilt and leather breastplate, his face smeared with soot, crouched in the entrance to the narrow pa.s.s and stared into the thick mist. "This is madness," he said cheerfully.

Odysseus, resting on one knee beside him, chuckled. "We have to attack at dawn, anyway," he replied. "Our allies have pledged to be here soon after sunup. By attacking now, this fog gives us the extra element of surprise."

"Well, it surprised me, me," a red-bearded warrior said gloomily. "It's the middle of the night, and the mist is so thick, I can't see the end of my sword. We won't know who we're killing."

"The ones lying down, Thibo, either sleeping or dead, will be the enemy," Odysseus told him.

He thought the plan through again. Agamemnon was committed to attack that day, which meant funneling his armies through the pa.s.s. The heavy mist gave him the perfect opportunity to get them through under cover. Hektor, of course, would expect that, and by dawn he would have his forces ready. By attacking in the dead of night they might catch him unprepared.

Odysseus and Achilles, the fifty Myrmidons, and another hundred handpicked warriors were to creep out of the pa.s.s under cover of the dark and mist, cross the earthworks, and descend on the Trojans as they slept. None were wearing armor lest any clink of metal on metal betray their presence. The Trojans would raise the alarm quickly, but Odysseus calculated that as many as a thousand would die first, slaughtered as they dreamed.

Far behind them, through the pa.s.s, the rest of Agamemnon's armies waited restlessly. Once the silent band of killers had done their grisly work and the alarm had been raised, the infantry would come charging through.

The cavalry would have to wait on the seaward side of the pa.s.s until the dawn came and the mist cleared. But the enemy was in the same position. Even the Trojan Horse could not attack if they could not see.

Odysseus moved his shoulder and grimaced at the pain, then licked dry lips. Just one more battle, he thought to himself. You've done this before, old man. He grasped his sword in one hand and a long dagger in the other. He glanced at Achilles, who had his swords on his back and two daggers drawn, and nodded.

The pair crept forward, silent in the m.u.f.fling mist, their small army moving noiselessly behind them. Odysseus climbed the new earthwork, cursing it under his breath. By the time he reached the main earthwork, he had fallen well behind Achilles, who had disappeared ahead of him like a wraith. Hurrying to keep up, Odysseus clambered over the bank of earth and mud, glimpsing dark-garbed warriors, swords and knives in hand, pa.s.sing him silently on either side. It was an eerie sight.

Then the killing began. Ahead, Odysseus heard the small m.u.f.fled sounds of cold bronze plunging into flesh and soft gasps quickly cut off. He hurried forward. Soon he was walking in the dim light of campfires, bodies strewn around them, the dead and the dying, blood still gus.h.i.+ng from slashed throats, eyes staring up at him, hands reaching out for aid that would not come.

It was so quiet that he could hear his heart beating. Then there was a loud cry. "Awake! Awake! We are under attack!"

In an instant the air was filled with the sounds of clas.h.i.+ng blades, the screams of the wounded, the snarls and grunts of fighting men, the snapping of bones and the rending of flesh. Odysseus heard Achilles' booming battle cry from somewhere up ahead and moved toward the sound.

A warrior appeared in the half-light, a Thrakian tribesman with a painted face. The Ithakan king leaped to the attack, but the man moved like quicksilver, blocking his thrust and turning into him. His shoulder struck Odysseus in the chest, knocking him back. He fell to the ground and rolled quickly as a sword blade was thrust into the ground beside him. Odysseus plunged his dagger into the unprotected thigh of the tribesman. Blood sprayed out, and the man fell. Odysseus jumped up and slashed his sword across the man's head.

He bent to pull out his dagger, but one of Priam's Eagles leaped at him with a snarl, recognizing the Ithakan king. Odysseus parried his sword blow and reversed a cut to the warrior's neck. The blade hammered into the breastplate and snapped. Dropping the useless hilt, Odysseus grabbed the man by his breastplate and hauled him forward, b.u.t.ting him savagely, then cras.h.i.+ng his fist into the man's belly. The Eagle doubled over, and then his head snapped back as Odysseus' knee exploded into his face.

He picked up the Eagle's sword and plunged it into the man's neck. Then, screaming his battle cry, "Ithaka! Ithaka!" he powered into the Trojan ranks, cutting and cleaving, an awesome fury upon him, his injured shoulder forgotten.

An unarmored Trojan warrior ran forward, ducking under Odysseus' plunging sword and stabbing his blade toward the Ugly King's belly. Odysseus leaped backward and tripped over a body. He rolled and came up swinging his sword two-handed, half beheading the warrior.

He glimpsed a movement to his right and blocked a lightning attack from a sword. Twisting his wrists and returning the blow, he cleaved the attacker from neck to belly.

There were Trojans all around him now. His sword rose and fell in the melee, cutting through leather and flesh and bone. He twisted and swung and then, too late, saw a sword slas.h.i.+ng toward his neck. Another sword flashed up to block it, parrying the death blow. Odysseus recognized the braided red beard and grinned at Achilles' s.h.i.+eld bearer.

"Be careful, old man," Thibo shouted. "I can't watch out for both of us."

Odysseus ducked under a two-handed cut from his right and drove his sword home in the man's chest. Beside him Thibo leaped and twisted, slas.h.i.+ng and killing. Odysseus saw dawn light gleam off his b.l.o.o.d.y blade and realized that the night mist was starting to clear.

Two Trojan soldiers ran at Thibo. He blocked a blow from the first, gutting the man with a reverse stroke. His sword stuck in the man's belly. The second warrior's sword arced toward his head. Odysseus parried the blow, chopping his sword through the man's neck.

"Where is Achilles?" he asked, panting. "You're supposed to be watching out for him. him."

Thibo shrugged. "Achilles can take care of himself."

Daylight was clearing the mist quickly, and Odysseus could see warriors struggling and dying all around him.

Three Trojans came at him at once, and he cursed aloud as he cleaved one neck and ducked under a slas.h.i.+ng blade. Then, dropping to his haunches, he charged into the two other soldiers like a bull. He caught one in the belly with his injured shoulder and grunted in agony. The other fell back, stumbling over a body, and was disemboweled by a slas.h.i.+ng sword.

Odysseus saw Achilles standing over him, his two swords dripping blood.

"Go back, Ithaka," the Thessalian king shouted above the noise of battle, "or that wound will kill you. Only the dagger is saving you."

Odysseus looked down and saw a knife blade stuck in his thigh. Blood had drenched his leg. In the fury of battle he had not noticed it.

"And get yourself armored," Achilles ordered. Swaying to one side as a sword scythed past his chest, he chopped his attacker down with a blow to the neck.

Odysseus shouted back, "You have no armor, Achilles!"

Achilles grinned at him and charged back into the fray.

Odysseus realized he felt dizzy from blood loss, and he cursed. As he stepped forward, he felt his knees give way. Hands grabbed him and pulled him upright, and then he felt a powerful shoulder lift him up under the arm. The sounds of fighting receded as, cursing, he was dragged from the battlefield.

He was on the Penelope Penelope again, the wind in his hair, the fresh sea air filling his chest. A huge flock of gulls was flying over the s.h.i.+p, darkening the sky with their wings. The clamor of their cries was deafening. Stupid birds, gulls, he thought to himself. Then he saw that the birds had the faces of women, contorted with hatred and spite. Harpies, he thought, coming to rend his flesh. again, the wind in his hair, the fresh sea air filling his chest. A huge flock of gulls was flying over the s.h.i.+p, darkening the sky with their wings. The clamor of their cries was deafening. Stupid birds, gulls, he thought to himself. Then he saw that the birds had the faces of women, contorted with hatred and spite. Harpies, he thought, coming to rend his flesh.

The sharp pain of teeth tearing his leg brought him around, and he found himself lying on muddy ground clear of the battlefield. One of his crewmen, the powerful fighter Leukon, was st.i.tching the wound in his thigh, his thick fingers clumsy on the blood-soaked thread. Leukon's leg had been broken three days before, and he could not fight. Now he sat awkwardly and was clearly in agony from the splinted leg.

Odysseus sat up. "Give me wine, someone," he demanded, and was handed a goblet. He drank it down, asked for another, and watched impatiently as Leukon tied off the st.i.tches. The blood had stopped flowing, and he felt the wine reviving him.

"Back to the battle, Leukon," he said.

"Aye, my king," said the huge warrior, and struggled to stand up.

"Not you, you fool. Me!" Odysseus made to rise, but a hand on his shoulder held him down and a cold voice said, "The battle is over for you today, Odysseus."

He looked up to see Agamemnon. With a ma.s.sive effort Odysseus levered himself up, trying to ignore the torment in his shoulder and the pain of the st.i.tches pulling in his leg. The Mykene king was right. He felt as weak as a pup, and it took all his willpower to stay upright.

They were looking over the battlefield from a vantage point in front of the main earthwork. The early sun had burned off the mist, and he could see clearly the battle on the plain before them. It was a melee, foot soldiers on both sides fighting desperately, neither side giving any quarter. Agamemnon's cavalry had deployed to the left, hitting the right flank of the enemy, forcing Hektor to bring the bulk of his Trojan Horse to that side in a ferocious counterattack. Odysseus could see that the Trojans had the upper hand, forcing Agamemnon's riders back from the river. Enjoy your success while you can, Hektor, my friend, he thought.

Amid the sea of fighting and struggling men, he could see a group of black-clad warriors forging an arrowhead into the Trojan infantry.

"Achilles and his men are fighting without armor," he said angrily. During their long night of planning, the western kings had agreed that once the alarm was raised, the elite killing forces would fade back and armor themselves. Achilles, with the battle fury upon him, had ignored that agreement and fought on.

"He can never survive," Odysseus muttered. "And his Myrmidons will not leave him. He is condemning them all to death."

"That would be a shame," Agamemnon said flatly.

Odysseus looked at him, fury rising in his chest. "Have you no loyalty to anyone, Mykene?" he asked angrily. "Achilles is fighting your war."

Agamemnon turned and gazed at him, his dark eyes as cold and empty as a winter sky. "Achilles fights for the glory of Achilles," he said, and Odysseus knew it was true.

The battle raged on as the sun climbed in the sky. Odysseus could see that the western armies were being pushed back slowly, and Achilles and his band were in danger of being surrounded. He glanced at the sun, standing proud of the horizon now, and started watching anxiously southward, along the river valley. Finally he saw a distant speck, a horseman riding with all speed toward them. The scout edged his way around the rear of the fighting, galloped up, and threw himself off his horse before Agamemnon.

"They are coming, lord!" he gasped.

"About time," the Battle King said with satisfaction.

Sunlight glinted off the spear points of hundreds of marching men flanked by cavalry as a new army marched toward Troy. Odysseus looked back to the battle before him. The Trojans, lower down, had not seen the threat yet.

The approaching army's cavalry broke into a gallop, riding straight for the unprotected flank of the Trojan infantry, lances down. Now aware of the threat, the battle-weary Trojans desperately tried to reform to face the attack, but the shock as the armored riders. .h.i.t them was devastating. Scores of men fell under the trampling hooves of the horses.

Hektor reacted quickly. His Phrygian archers, at the rear of the battlefield, started loosing volley after volley into the coming infantry. Arrows deflected off s.h.i.+elds and conical helms, but some men crashed to the ground, tripping others as they came.

The Trojan Horse was isolated on the wrong side of the field, but at an order from Hektor half of them peeled away and galloped to counter the new threat. Hektor dug his heels into his great warhorse and charged at the enemy cavalry. As he reached them, several hors.e.m.e.n rode against him. His sword lanced out, spilling the first rider from his mount; the second fell as Hektor's sword, wielded with awesome anger, crushed his skull. Then a lance drove into the chest of the stallion Ares, and he fell, throwing Hektor to the ground.

Odysseus could see him no more. Frustrated, he turned his gaze to the leader of the newly arrived army, who, surrounded by his bodyguard, rode up the slope toward him.

"Well, Kygones," he commented as the Lykian king drew his horse to a halt, "you are not joining the battle today?"

The Fat King pulled off his helm and smiled coolly.

"You should have more grat.i.tude, Ithaka," he said. "When last we met, you acted with great moral outrage at the death of one man, a simple sailor. Now you and your fellow kings ask me to help you kill thousands. Where is your thanks?"

He dismounted and handed his horse to one of his men.

"All our actions have consequences, Odysseus. By barring your s.h.i.+ps from my beaches over the death of this sailor, you and Helikaon dealt a body blow to Lykia, crippling trade and draining its lifeblood. My people have suffered, and for the first time in a generation children have starved in wintertime. When Agamemnon sought me as an ally, are you surprised that I felt no loyalty to Helikaon and his kinsman Priam?"

Odysseus had no answer for him. He turned back to the battlefield, then heard Hektor's horn blowing: two short blasts repeated over and over, signaling retreat. Good, he thought. You cannot win the day, Hektor. The Scamander plain belongs to us. Retreat in good order while you can.

But the Trojans were fighting every step of the way, protecting their wounded as they backed slowly toward the river and its four bridges to an ephemeral safety.

No more than a hundred soldiers had retreated across one of the wooden bridges when a bright flame like a huge torch erupted among them. Suddenly the entire bridge was ablaze, setting fire to the men on it. They screamed and thrashed in agony. Many jumped into the Scamander, but their flesh kept burning and their cries were awful to hear. Then a second bridge caught fire. Within moments all four bridges, the Trojans' only way to retreat, were burning ferociously.

Stunned by the sight, Odysseus turned to Agamemnon. "Is this your work?" he asked, but the Mykene king just shook his head, as surprised as he was.

They watched as desperate Trojans, trapped between the advancing enemy armies and the river, started throwing themselves into the fast-flowing water, some helping the wounded cross, others just swimming for their lives. Injured men were being pulled under and swept down toward the bay, too weak to struggle against the powerful current.

Then Agamemnon gasped and pointed as Hektor, mounted again on gallant Ares, walked the stallion into the Scamander high above the blazing bridges. He reined the warhorse in the center of the river and stood there as the waters crashed around them. Others of the Trojan Horse joined them, guiding their horses to stand by Ares, reducing the force of the water. Soon thirty warhorses stood in the river, enduring as the waters struck them. The riders had only s.h.i.+elds to protect themselves and their mounts from the arrows and lances of the enemy, and three fell in the Scamander and were swept away, but most of them stood firm, allowing the Trojan injured to make their way across to safety. The Phrygian archers ran along the riverbank to help protect the horses with a rain of arrows at the advancing enemy.

Odysseus wanted to cheer, and he smiled to himself to see the anger on Agamemnon's face.

"Hektor lives," the Mykene king hissed. "Can nothing kill him?"

"He charged an army, and yet he survives," Odysseus said happily. "That is why Hektor is Hektor and we kings are just standing here watching."

Sick of Agamemnon's company, he set off toward the battlefield, limping heavily on his injured leg. Stretcher bearers were on the field, carrying wounded men away. He saw healers and surgeons helping injured warriors of the western armies and soldiers dispatching wounded Trojans. The ground was heavy with churned-up mud and blood, and Odysseus felt himself tiring quickly.

Then he saw a figure he recognized, a fat warrior in outsize armor lying in the mud, his back resting against the flank of a dead horse. Odysseus stomped over to him.

The prince was bleeding from a score of cuts. "Well, well, Odysseus," he said, his voice a weak rasp, "have you come to finish me off?"

"No, Antiphones," the Ithakan king said, sitting down beside him, suddenly weary. "I just wanted to talk to an old friend."