Shield Of Thunder Part 39

Helikaon nodded. Looking down, he saw horse droppings on the floor. He frowned. "Horses?" he asked.

Banokles grinned. "There are a few left. I've had them locked away somewhere safe."

"Who commands here?" Helikaon asked. "Lucan?"

Banokles shook his head and grunted. "Lucan fell at the Scaean Gate. Tough old b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Thought he'd live forever."

He told Helikaon curtly, "You're the only king on this side of those doors."

But Helikaon shook his head. "You have fought for this city all summer, General. You know every man here and what he is capable of. You command here. I am just a foot soldier, Banokles. My sword and my life are yours."

Banokles sighed and shot a glance at Kalliades, who threw his head back and laughed. The laughter rang around the megaron, megaron, and men turned their heads at the unaccustomed sound. "Tell us your plan, then, General," Kalliades asked his friend, grinning. and men turned their heads at the unaccustomed sound. "Tell us your plan, then, General," Kalliades asked his friend, grinning.

"There are thousands of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, most of them Mykene veterans," Banokles replied. "Not one soft-bellied puker among them. We're just a hundred. When the thunder rolls, they'll have the better of us. But by the b.l.o.o.d.y spear of Ares we'll make them pay for every step they take!"

The hundred defenders stood in line three deep facing the doors. In the front two lines were the last of the Eagles. Front and center was Helikaon, wearing the armor of a Royal Eagle, with Banokles and Kalliades. Behind them stood Polydorus. Out in front, on either side of the doors, were two Thrakian archers.

Andromache was on the gallery watching them, bow in hand. She remembered the last time the four men had been together in this megaron, megaron, when Banokles and Kalliades had fought for the Mykene and Helikaon and Polydorus had defended the stairs. She wondered at the irony of life and the tyrannical whims of the G.o.ds that had brought them together again. when Banokles and Kalliades had fought for the Mykene and Helikaon and Polydorus had defended the stairs. She wondered at the irony of life and the tyrannical whims of the G.o.ds that had brought them together again.

She could see Helikaon's profile and saw him turn his head briefly to glimpse her. She wondered if this would be her last sight of him alive. She knew he had come there with the intention of rescuing her. Yet once here, he could not leave friends and comrades to fight on without him. In the heat of the battle he would forget about her and her boys. For a moment only she felt sorry for herself. To be in his arms once again and then to have him s.n.a.t.c.hed away by duty and loyalty seemed so cruel. Then she hardened her heart. Helikaon must follow his duty, and he would live or die. Her Her duty this day was to fight until the battle was lost, then escape with her sons somehow down the cliff. She thought again of Ka.s.sandra's words, " duty this day was to fight until the battle was lost, then escape with her sons somehow down the cliff. She thought again of Ka.s.sandra's words, "We will meet again, Sister, before the end," and took courage from their message.

The ax heads tearing relentlessly at the heavy oak doors finally had cut a hole. She could see movement on the other side. Then she saw Banokles step forward from the front line, hefting a lance, and with astonis.h.i.+ng accuracy and strength throw it through the gap. There was an explosion of curses on the other side, and the Trojans all cheered. The cry was taken up all around the megaron: megaron: "Banokles! Banokles! BANOKLES!" "Banokles! Banokles! BANOKLES!"

Then the hole in the door was hacked wider, and warriors started forcing their way through. The two archers loosed arrow after arrow into them. Six Mykene fell before their comrades managed to get as far as the Trojan line. At first they only climbed in one at a time, and the men on the front line dispatched them with ease. Then they started pouring in and succeeded in releasing the metal bars. The ruined doors groaned open.

Andromache watched with pride and fear as the small band of Trojan fighters held back the forces of Agamemnon. Despite the power of the Mykene attack, the slaughter was terrible in their ranks. Helikaon, Kalliades, and Banokles fought with cool efficiency, each armed with s.h.i.+eld and sword. Every attacker fell swiftly to their blades, and for a moment Andromache gave in to hope. Then she looked through the doors and saw the ranks of the enemy, all armed to the teeth, ready to replace their fallen comrades. All hope drained away.

She looked around. The narrow Trojan line across the megaron megaron was protecting the stone staircase and the gallery. If it was pushed back even a few paces, the enemy could reach the side of the gallery, throw ladders up, and get behind the defenders. The Mykene would not make the mistake they had made the last time and be drawn by arrogance to attack the stairs while neglecting the gallery. Agamemnon, a cool thinker, would have made sure of that. was protecting the stone staircase and the gallery. If it was pushed back even a few paces, the enemy could reach the side of the gallery, throw ladders up, and get behind the defenders. The Mykene would not make the mistake they had made the last time and be drawn by arrogance to attack the stairs while neglecting the gallery. Agamemnon, a cool thinker, would have made sure of that.

The women archers had been ordered to protect the gallery. With them were some civilians, traders and farmers, and a number of old soldiers well past their fighting years who were charged with pus.h.i.+ng away the ladders and guarding the women.

The brute strength of the Mykene advance soon started to take its toll on the exhausted defenders, and the line was being forced back at each end. Andromache saw Trojans falling, to be replaced instantly by their comrades behind. Yet slowly the two wings of the line were being bent back. Only the center held.

"Be ready!" she shouted, and the women raised their bows. Ladders were pa.s.sed from hand to hand over the heads of the Mykene, and then she heard one bang against the gallery wall. Half a dozen arrows slammed into the first warrior to climb a ladder.

Below them one wing of the defending line had been pushed back farther. "Hold the line!" someone bellowed. A group of old soldiers hurried down the stone stairs, bellowing their battle cries, to lend their support to the collapsing wing.

More and more ladders were raised, and soon Mykene warriors were climbing onto the gallery. Andromache saw the civilians attacking them with swords and clubs, fighting without skill but with desperation. Still the women stood their ground, raining their shafts into the enemy.

The defenders below had been forced back to the stone staircase, and Andromache saw a few Trojan soldiers fleeing up the stairs. Then she realized they were racing to defend the gallery.

Kalliades left Helikaon and Banokles fighting side by side on the stairway and sprinted up the steps toward her. As he pa.s.sed, he snarled, "Retreat now, Andromache!" Armed with two swords, he slammed into the advancing Mykene.

Andromache shouted to the women to retreat to the queen's apartments. One was already dead, but several wounded archers limped past, including little Anio, blood streaming down one arm. The others fought on, loosing arrow after arrow into the Mykene. Two were cut down. Penthesileia stood her ground alone, then fell with a dagger in her side.

Andromache grabbed her bundle of arrows and turned to flee-and saw two Mykene warriors stalking toward her, cutting off her path of retreat. The first lunged his sword at her. Instinctively she blocked the blow with her bundle of arrows, then grabbed an arrow in her fist and stepped in. With a cry she plunged it into the eye of the attacker. He fell, clutching the shaft.

The second warrior raised his sword for a killing blow. Then he fell to his knees, hit on the head from behind by a man wielding a club. The Mykene, dazed, twisted around and rammed his sword into the belly of his attacker. Andromache picked up the first Mykene's sword and hacked at the second man's neck until he was still. She stepped over the bodies to reach her rescuer, who was slumped against the wall, thick blood staining the front of his clothing. She knelt down.

"Remember me, lady?" the man whispered, blood trickling from his mouth.

For a heartbeat Andromache did not. Then she saw that three fingers had been cut away from his right hand, and the memory came back to her of a moment in a street when a drunken man, a veteran of the Trojan Horse, had called her a G.o.ddess.

"You are Pardones. I thank you for my life, Pardones."

The dying man said something, but it was so weak that she could not hear it. She bent down to him. "Kept it," he murmured. Then the rasp of his breath abruptly stopped.

She sat back, tears in her eyes, and saw on the floor beside his dead hand the golden brooch she had given him for his courtesy and loyalty.

Wiping her face on the back of her hand, she got up, cast a last glance at the megaron megaron where Helikaon fought on, then followed Kalliades' orders and ran back down the stone corridor to the queen's apartments. where Helikaon fought on, then followed Kalliades' orders and ran back down the stone corridor to the queen's apartments.

The gathering room was a scene of carnage. Dozens of gravely wounded soldiers lay on the floor, dragged there by comrades or civilians. There were a few injured women. Andromache saw that Penthesileia had been brought there, still alive but ashen-faced. Lying with her was Anio, her head in her sister's lap. Young Xander was moving from person to person, overwhelmed by the number of injured yet carrying on, stanching wounds, comforting the wounded, holding the hands of the dying. He looked up at her, and she saw that his face was gray.

Kalliades had followed her in, covered in blood, some of it from a wound high in his chest.

"They have the gallery," he told her urgently. "We can hold the stone corridor for a while, but you must get ready to leave with the boys."

"Helikaon?" she asked, her heart in her mouth.

But at that moment Helikaon and Banokles entered the gathering room, carrying Polydorus, who was badly wounded. They laid the Eagle on the floor, then Helikaon turned to Andromache.

"You must go now," he told her, and she heard the agony in his voice. You You must go, she thought with a stab of fear. Not must go, she thought with a stab of fear. Not we we must go. She knew he would stay and fight to the end. She would not try to change his mind. must go. She knew he would stay and fight to the end. She would not try to change his mind.

They hurried to the room where the little boys slept on. She woke them, and they rubbed their eyes and looked wonderingly at the blood-covered warriors around their bed.

Helikaon lifted Andromache's hand to his lips, and she winced. "You are wounded?" he asked anxiously.

"Yesterday," she admitted, showing him her shoulder. "It has opened up again. I will need help with the boys."

"You cannot take two children down the rope on your own, anyway," he said. "I will carry them down." Hope flared in her, then died when he dropped his eyes. "Then I must return," he told her.

"You take Dex," Kalliades suggested. "I will carry Astyanax. He knows me, and we have shared adventures before." He picked up the little boy, who confidently put his arms around the warrior's neck.

"Whatever you're going to do, do it quickly," urged Banokles, who had been listening to the fighting in the stone corridor.

"Strap the child to me," Kalliades told his friend, handing him a length of bandage. In a moment Banokles had wound the bandage around him, tying the child tightly to his chest. Kalliades walked to the window. Astyanax grinned over his shoulder at Andromache and waved his hand at her, thrilled by the excitement.

"You had better take this," Banokles said suddenly. Kalliades looked at the weapon he was holding out.

"The sword of Argurios! I had lost it!"

"I found it on the stairs. Take it with you."

"It will hamper me on my climb. Keep it until I get back."

"You don't know what might happen down there. Take it."

Kalliades shrugged and sheathed the sword. He climbed out the window, disappearing into the night.

"You next, my love," Helikaon said to Andromache. "Can you climb down with that wound?"

"I can make it," she rea.s.sured him, although privately she had doubts. Her heart was thudding in her chest. She cast a last glance at the blond warrior. "Thank you, Banokles," she said. It seemed inadequate after all he had done for her. Before he could step back, she darted forward and kissed his cheek. Banokles nodded, his face reddening.

Andromache sat on the window ledge and swung her legs around. Grabbing hold of the rope, she started her descent.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE.

THE LAST KING OF TROY.

With his small son Dex strapped to his body, Helikaon climbed hand over hand down the rope after Kalliades and Andromache. He was anxious to return to the palace quickly and could think only of the coming struggle. He knew that Agamemnon would show himself at the last and that Helikaon would be waiting for him. No matter how many elite warriors the Mykene king sent against him, he was determined to survive long enough to confront Agamemnon and kill him if it was in his power.

His feet reached the ground, and he pulled away the bandages holding Dex to him.

"It is still dark," the tall warrior pointed out. "Andromache will need a torch."

He shouted up to the window, "Banokles, throw down a torch!"

Within moments a flaming brand flew through the air and fell some paces away. Kalliades ran to get it, stamping out the sparks on the dry vegetation and gave the torch to Andromache. Standing tall in the torchlight in a flame-red dress, she had never looked more beautiful, Helikaon thought.

He said to her urgently, "The Xanthos Xanthos will wait only until the sun clears the horizon, so you must make haste. Go directly north. See, the North Star is bright tonight." Realizing her arms were trembling from the effort of the climb, he pulled her into an embrace. Andromache cast a glance of entreaty at Kalliades, who moved out of earshot. will wait only until the sun clears the horizon, so you must make haste. Go directly north. See, the North Star is bright tonight." Realizing her arms were trembling from the effort of the climb, he pulled her into an embrace. Andromache cast a glance of entreaty at Kalliades, who moved out of earshot.

"Please, my love, come with us," she pleaded. "I swore to myself I would never say this to you, but you and Kalliades will both go back to certain death."

Helikaon shook his head. "You know I cannot. I have friends in there, comrades I have known most of my life. Some of them defended Dardanos for me. I cannot leave them. It is my duty."

"We both chose the path of duty before," she argued. "It was a hard road, but we walked it knowing each of us was doing the right thing. But Troy is now a city of the dead. The only reason to return would be to die with your friends. How will that benefit them? We must leave the dead behind us and set our faces to the sunrise. Your duty now is to your s.h.i.+p and to your family, to me and to your sons."

But her last words were lost as Kalliades cried out. He had pulled on the rope, ready to climb back up the cliff, but it fell toward him, looping to the earth from the high window. Helikaon stared at the coils of rope and the cleanly cut end. His chest tightened with fury at the betrayal.

Kalliades shouted up angrily at the figure they could see outlined in the window, "Banokles!!"

His voice floated down to them: "May Ares guide your spear, Kalliades!"

Helikaon saw Kalliades lower his head for a moment, his face becoming grave. Then he took a deep breath and called up to his friend, "He always does, sword brother!"

They saw Banokles raise his hand in farewell. Then the window was empty.

Helikaon felt the fury in his chest. "What in the name of Hades is that idiot doing?" he stormed.

Kalliades replied quietly, "He is saving my life." He rubbed his eyes roughly with the back of his hand, then added, as if to himself, "It's something he does."

Helikaon looked up at the sheer walls. "I will climb again," he promised.

Andromache turned to him, her face angry. "You cannot climb back! There will be no one to throw a rope to you this time-unless it is the enemy. You must leave now, Helikaon. Accept this gift that fate and Banokles have presented to you. Return to the Xanthos Xanthos and sail away from the dead past." and sail away from the dead past."

She glanced at Kalliades, but the warrior still stood gazing up at the high window, lost in his own thoughts. She placed her hand on Helikaon's chest and leaned into him. "You did not hear what I said, my love. I had hoped for a better time to tell you. But Astyanax is your son-our son. You must save your son."

Helikaon stared at her wonderingly. The words made no sense. "How can that be?"

She smiled a little. "Trust me, Helikaon. It is true. It was when you were ill, deep in delirium. I will tell you about it when there is time and we are alone. But both of these boys are your sons. You must help me take them to safety. Dawn is coming, and I cannot get them to the Xanthos Xanthos in time on my own." in time on my own."

Helikaon shook his head, bewildered. He felt suddenly like a s.h.i.+p adrift; the certainties that had guided his life were being washed away by the storms of fate.

He looked up at the window, an agony of indecision in his breast. Every instinct in his body told him to climb back up to the palace. Even now he believed he could make a difference and somehow defeat the hordes of the enemy despite the odds. Then he thought of what he had said to his crew: "I plan to live." "I plan to live."

He nodded his head then, accepting his fate. "Very well, we will go to the s.h.i.+p. Kalliades?"

The warrior turned toward him and admitted, "I cannot climb the cliff without a rope. My leg is not strong enough. I accept the gift my old friend has given me. I will come with you to the Xanthos Xanthos if we can get there in time." if we can get there in time."

He looked to the east, where the sky was showing dark red on the horizon. "But it will be a close thing," he predicted.

The going was difficult in the torchlight. The land was flat horse meadows divided by small streams, but all was bone-dry, and they had to leap the ditches or stumble across them. Helikaon, who knew the country well, led the way, holding the torch and young Dex. His mind still in confusion, he thought of what Andromache had told him. He recalled erotic dreams about her as he lay in a fever in the palace of Hektor. He had guarded the dreams in his thoughts all these years until the wondrous reality of her body had replaced them in his memory. He wondered that she had kept silent about it throughout their voyage together. Then he thought of Hektor's death, and he understood.

He paused and glanced back to where Kalliades was following them with Astyanax in his arms. The warrior's face was pale; his leg clearly was troubling him.

"Do not fear for me, Golden One," he said, seeing Helikaon's look. "I will keep up."

"I am sorry about Banokles," Helikaon told him.

"Banokles lived each day as if it were his last. I never knew a man to take so much from life. We should not grieve for Banokles."

The light was starting to strengthen when Helikaon stopped, hearing a sound. Then, out of the darkness, a group of men loomed. Helikaon swiftly set the boy down and drew his blades. Kalliades moved alongside him, the sword of Argurios in his hand.

They were a ragged army, twenty or more of them, some in armor and many of them wounded. All had the ferocious look of men pushed beyond desperation. From among them walked their leader. He wore a black and silver chin beard. He seemed grayer and leaner, but Helikaon's blood ran cold when he recognized the Mykene admiral Menados.

"Well, Helikaon, this is a strange meeting on a night's walk," the admiral said affably. "The Mykene renegade Kalliades, the Burner-most hated of Mykene's enemies-and a refugee family. Two boys. Let me see. Could it be that one of these boys is the rightful king of Troy?"

Helikaon said nothing, watching the men, calculating their strength, planning in which order to take them. He and Kalliades edged apart, making room to swing their swords.

Menados mused, "Thanks to you, Helikaon, these brave men and I are now outcasts. Agamemnon was not pleased that you destroyed an entire Mykene fleet. But we might win back the king's favor by delivering to him the last heir to Troy."

Helikaon spit out, "Make your play, Menados. We haven't got all night." From the corner of his eye he saw the sun's first rays lancing over the horizon.

Menados ignored him, addressing Kalliades. "You are free to join us, Kalliades, as an outcast yourself. We are going not to the Golden City but back to Mykene and the Lion's Hall, there to suffer Agamemnon's judgment-if he ever returns."

Kalliades answered him coolly, "The Law of the Road states that Helikaon's battle is mine. I will stand with him."

Menados nodded, as if he had expected that response. "Loyalty has been much prized among the Mykene, although that loyalty seemed often misplaced. You are not the first Mykene warrior to stand side by side with the Trojans. The great Argurios was a comrade of mine. We fought together in many battles. I admired him more than any man I have ever known. Now, Helikaon, when last we encountered each other, you chose the path of mercy. You undoubtedly are regretting that now. And you told me that if we were ever to meet again, you would cut out my heart and feed it to the crows. Is that still your intention?"

Helikaon snarled, "Try me, Menados!"

A voice behind Menados yelled, "Let's take them, Admiral! The Burner is accursed and must die!"