Thyetes turned, his long, skinny legs carrying him back quickly to the boat, where he stood right beside Mentor. But instead of keeping an eye on the prisoners, he turned to watch his shipmates disappearing into the trees.
“Go on!” he cried after them, hoisting his spear. “Hit him once for me! No one says that about my mother!”
Odysseus hadn’t counted on that. What can I do? he wondered. He looked around frantically. All that was near him was sand and stone and …
Stone.
He had a good throwing arm. Best among the boys at the palace in Ithaca. He could hit pretty much anything he aimed at. Bending down, he picked up two very large smooth grey stones.
Odysseus took advantage of the pirate’s turned back and heaved the first stone. It struck the pirate’s shoulder, and he spun around, looking for the thrower.
Mentor saw Odysseus first, his eyes widening. Penelope saw him next. Helen was too busy muttering and straining against her bonds to notice anything but her own discomfort.
Just then the pirate spotted him and raised his mighty spear.
Twisting around, Mentor struck out with his bound-together legs and kicked the pirate in the knees.
“Ooof,” Thyetes cried, beginning to fall.
Odysseus sprinted forward and brought the second stone down on the pirate’s skull. The man dropped like a sack full of dates.
Plucking the pirate’s dagger from his belt, Odysseus sliced through Mentor’s bonds.
“I couldn’t believe it when I saw you, galloping over the sand like … like…”
“Like a hero,” Odysseus said, grinning.
“I meant like a ghost back unheralded from Hades.”
“It takes more than a drowning to kill me,” said Odysseus. “Can you stand?” He held out his hand and pulled Mentor up.
Mentor stood, though he was a bit wobbly from being tied up so long. “I can manage.”
“We’ve got to get out of here.”
“What about Helen? What about Penelope?” Mentor whispered, rubbing his chafed wrists.
“They’re only women,” Odysseus whispered back. “And they’ll slow us down.” The crease between his eyebrows suddenly appeared. “Once we’re safely away and find our own ship, we can come back for them. Not now.”
“But …” Mentor’s face flushed. “We can’t … You don’t mean …”
Odysseus seized his arm and pulled him away. “Think, Mentor, think,” he said. “Helen is their big prize. They expect to make a handsome profit out of her. If we leave her, they’ll probably sail on and deliver her to old King Theseus. And honestly—didn’t you hear her before? She wants to go.”
“Well, I don’t want her to go,” Mentor said. “Her father doesn’t want her to go.”
“She’s a princess,” Odysseus said, losing his patience and speaking loudly. “They marry old kings all the time.”
“But …”
“If we take her now, the pirates will tear this island apart looking for her. None of us will get away then.”
Penelope had heard the last part of their conversation. “He’s right, you know,” she told Mentor. “Go now. Rescue us later.”
Mentor was about to argue with her, when he wrinkled his nose. “What’s that awful smell?”
“Baaaad men aaaall gone,” said Silenus, bounding over the sand towards them and waving his big wooden club. “I said I could do it.”
“What is that?” asked Mentor.
“You mean who is that,” Odysseus said. “Silenus, meet Mentor.”
The two nodded at one another, each cautious in their greeting.
“He’s got a small boat,” Odysseus explained. “We’ll lie low until the pirates leave and—”
“Women!” the satyr cried. Bounding past the two boys, he dropped his club, grabbed Helen, slung her over his shoulder, and loped back across the sand towards the shelter of the rocks.
CHAPTER 11: GOATS AND WATER
“YOU INFERNAL CREATURE!” ODYSSEUS shouted, waving a fist at the fleeing satyr. “You’ve doomed us all.”
But Mentor wasted no time in cursing. Instead he was already racing across the sand in hot pursuit of Silenus.
Penelope held out her bound hands. “If you’re going after Helen, you’d better take me as well. I’m the only one who knows how to cope with her.”
Odysseus groaned but knew she was right. It was either take Penelope along now, or murder Helen later just to keep her quiet. He slashed through the ropes binding the girl’s wrists.
“If we empty these water kraters, we can delay the pirates’ pursuit by boat,” Penelope added. “They won’t dare sail without stocking up again.” She began kicking over the pottery jars until all but one spilled out their precious fluids on to the sand.
“Hurry,” Odysseus said. “We have to catch Silenus before he and Mentor come to blows.”
“Wait a minute,” Penelope said, hefting the last heavy jar.
“Just kick it over and—”
“You really don’t plan ahead very well, do you?” Penelope said.
“Of course I plan.” Odysseus could feel heat rising to his cheeks. He was sure they were bright red. “How else do you think we managed to rescue you?”
“Rescue? Is that what you call it? Throw a rock and then run? And I bet that’s as far ahead as you’d planned.” She made a face. “Boys! Always thinking about heroics and never about what needs to happen day to day.”
Odysseus began to sputter.
“If we’re going to be in an open boat, my hero, we’ll need fresh water ourselves.” She staggered under the heavy krater, and at last Odysseus took it from her, settling it on one broad shoulder. Then he started towards the rocks.
When he looked back to see if Penelope was following, she was just stooping to pick up the dropped club, her long dark braids like thick ropes on either side of her face.
“Wait for me,” she cried.
He slowed a bit, but his pride wouldn’t let him wait.
They came upon the goat-man and Mentor about thirty feet beyond the rocks. The two were rolling about on the ground and cursing one another in steady streams of invective and bleating.
“Pillager!”
“Mortal!”
“Goat from the hind end of Hades!”
“Boy whose paaaarts have not yet grown!”
Helen had been thrown to one side, where she lay with her skirts tumbled about her, the gag partially loose. Her dishevelled curls perfectly framed her perfect face. She was crimson with outrage. And—Odysseus thought—very beautiful.
Penelope ran over to Helen and undid the bonds around her wrists. Then she ripped away the gag.
“My dress! My hair!” Helen screeched.
Penelope put her arms around her cousin for comfort. “There, there,” she crooned.
Mentor now lay exhausted on the sand, but the satyr sat up and rubbed his head, between the little horns.
“You stupid creature,” Odysseus said, setting down the krater of water. “You’ll have brought the entire pirate crew down on our heads—and for what?”
The satyr drew himself up with a dignified air—or as dignified as a mussed-up, stinking, tangle-haired, bandylegged goat-man could. “For the saaaake of a beautiful maiden,” he said. “Surely we need a few comforts for the voyaaaage.”
“Comforts!” screeched Helen. “I’ll comfort you, you immortal dunghill. My brothers will pound you into paste. My father will skin you alive and use your hide for a rug.”
Odysseus noticed that when Helen got going, she could turn a man to stone with her tongue. It certainly made the satyr wince.
“I thought she’d be graaaateful,” said Silenus.
“Now you know why she wasn’t part of my original plan.”