CHAPTER FIVE
THE ROYAL PRIESTESS
Kalliades was sitting alone, away from the fire. The sea was calm again, but the night was cool, a chilly breeze whispering over the rocks. Most of the crewmen were asleep. He glanced up to where Piria was sitting, huddled against a rock that shielded her from the wind. He was about to walk over to her when he saw the big black man Bias carrying firewood to where she sat and lighting it with a brand from the main campfire. Then he brought her a blanket. Kalliades wished he had thought of that.
Closing his eyes, he leaned back against a rock, his thoughts somber. Then he heard movement behind him, and his heart leaped, for he thought it might be Piria come to sit with him. Opening his eyes, he saw the stocky figure of Odysseus. The Ugly King sat down beside him.
“There is something about the sea at night that makes a man feel small,” he said.
“I feel like that when I gaze upon mountains,” Kalliades told him.
“Ah, that’s because you are a landsman. You are right, though. The seas and the mountains are eternal and unchanging. We are just here for a little while, and then we fade into the dust of history.” He fell silent for a moment, then said, “So tell me, what happened that night in Troy?”
It was innocently asked, but Kalliades felt his stomach tighten. Odysseus knew, then. Kalliades felt suddenly foolish. The previous day on the beach he had spoken of fighting against Argurios. That had been a stupid slip of the tongue. What now? he wondered. There was a Mykene garrison on Kios. Would that be Odysseus’ plan? Sell them for Agamemnon’s gold? He saw Odysseus looking at him intently and realized he hadn’t answered the man’s question.
“We lost,” Kalliades said curtly. “Shouldn’t have. We were led by a fool.”
“How was he foolish?”
“I have no wish to talk about it,” Kalliades said. “What do you intend to do with us?”
“Oh, stay calm, lad. I don’t intend to do anything. As far as I am concerned, you are merely passengers.”
“You are not interested in Agamemnon’s bounty? I find that hard to believe.”
Odysseus chuckled. “To be honest, it crossed my mind. Unfortunately, I have a gullible crew. So you are free to do as you please.”
Kalliades was intrigued. “How does their gullibility affect your decisions?”
“It was pointed out to me that you and your friend are two fine heroes who risked their lives for a woman they didn’t know. In short, the kind of men I tell stories about. So, much as Agamemnon’s gold would have been welcome, I must forsake it.”
Kalliades said nothing. He doubted that the wishes of the crew would have any real effect on Odysseus’ decisions and recalled the words of Sekundos about the contradictory nature of the man.
Then Odysseus spoke again. “Are you ready now to tell me why your general was foolish?”
Kalliades’ mind drifted back to that blood-filled night, and he heard again the cries of the wounded, the clash of swords, and the grinding of shields. He saw once more the mighty Argurios holding the stairs, the dread Helikaon beside him. “Why foolish?” he said. “He let the enemy dictate the strategy. Once we’d stormed the walls of the palace and were fighting in the megaron, Argurios pulled his men back to the great staircase. Then he and Helikaon stood there, as if daring us to attack them. We had greater numbers. We should have taken ladders and scaled the gallery above the stairs. Then we could have hit them from two sides. But we didn’t. We just kept trying to defeat the two heroes. On the stairs our greater numbers counted for nothing. Then Hektor came, and it was we who were surrounded.” He talked then of how Kolanos had tried to bargain for his life by offering to betray Agamemnon and how King Priam had refused him. “I still don’t understand it,” Kalliades said. “The king we sought to kill allowed us to live, and the king we sought to serve ordered us murdered. Perhaps you can make a story out of that, Odysseus.”
“I expect that I will one day.”
“And what of Piria?” asked Kalliades. “Is she also free to do as she pleases?”
“You care for her?”
“Is that so strange?”
“Not at all. Merely a question. But to answer yours, yes, she is free to do as she wants. She will not stay with you, though. You realize that?”
“You don’t know that, Odysseus.”
“There are many things I do not know. I do not know where the wind begins or the sky ends. I do not know where the stars go in the daytime. But I know women, Kalliades, and Piria is not a woman who desires men. She never was.”
“Where do you know her from?”
Odysseus shook his head. “If she has not told you, lad, then it is not for me to say. But to be close to her is to court danger.”
“She has suffered enormously these last few days,” Kalliades said. “Her hatred of men is understandable. Yet I think she likes me.”
“I am sure that she does. Like a brother,” Odysseus added. “I shall see her safely to Troy. Once there, however, she will be in great peril.”
“Why?”
“Like you, she has a price on her head—many, many times greater than yours.”
“Why tell me this?”
“I like her,” Odysseus said, “and I think she will need friends in the days to come. Loyal friends.”
“Do you know why she is heading for Troy?”
“I believe I do. There is someone there she loves—and loves deeply enough to risk her life for.”
“But not a man,” Kalliades said softly.
“No, lad. Not a man.”
Odysseus rose and walked away from Kalliades to the brushwood pigpen. The beasts were sleeping, huddled together on the landward side of the enclosure. He glanced back to the main fire, and saw Ganny, the yellow cloak stretched over him. The pig’s head came up, and he looked at Odysseus. The king strolled over to him. “You’re a lucky fellow,” he said softly. “The waves from that quake were what brought you in. Perhaps the gods love you.” Ganny gave a soft grunt, then fell asleep again. Odysseus smiled. “Stupid pig,” he said fondly. “I shall speak to Oristhenes and ensure you end up on no man’s table.”
And now you are having moonlight conversations with pigs, he chided himself.
Adding wood to the fire, he stretched himself out on the sand, hoping to sleep. Random thoughts fluttered across his mind like irritating bats. The woman Piria, whom he had known as the Princess Kalliope, was a danger to all who came into contact with her. Then there was the Mykene warrior and his lout of a companion. Agamemnon had declared them outlaws—renegades. To help them would undoubtedly earn the enmity of the Mykene king. Odysseus rolled over and sat up, brushing sand from his tunic.
The enmity of Agamemnon. There was a chilling thought.
And yet, was there anyone Agamemnon did not hate? Even his friends were only enemies in waiting. Moving to a water sack, Odysseus drank deeply. Bias was sleeping close by. Odysseus prodded him with his foot. “Are you awake?” he said, digging his toe harder into Bias’ ribs. The black man grunted.
“What is it?”
“Well, as long as you are awake, I thought we’d sit and talk of old times.”
Bias yawned and cast a baleful glance at his king. “Why do you never wake anyone else when you can’t sleep?”
“They don’t get as irritated as you do. It is less entertaining.”
“They get just as irritated, Ugly One—they simply don’t show it.”
“I was thinking of keeping Ganny and selling the others. A mascot for the Penelope.”
Bias sighed. “No you weren’t. You’re just saying that to rile me.”
“It’s not a bad idea, though.”