Bias grinned. “That was good thinking,” he said.
Odysseus nodded. “Once we’ve beached, get everyone forward to haul on the rope. We’ll bring her in alongside us.”
“Looks like there’s been quite a battle,” Bias said.
Odysseus remained silent. The battle would have been with a pirate fleet. No single vessel would have dared attack Meriones. His reputation as a sea fighter was second to none, save perhaps for Helikaon. But why attack a Kretan war galley? It would be carrying no wealth.
The stern of the Penelope grounded on the sand. Bias called out for crewmen to take up the rope, and the war galley was pulled alongside. With the two ships safe Odysseus jumped down to the beach. Men clambered down from both ships and waded to the shoreline. A tall man in battle armor and helm strode toward Odysseus and halted before him. “My thanks to you, Ithaka,” said Idomeneos, the king of Kretos, his voice harsh and grating. Before Odysseus could reply, they were joined by the black-bearded Meriones.
Odysseus chuckled. “So what happened, Meriones? Hit a rock, did you?”
“You know good and well what happened,” Meriones answered. “We were rammed.”
“Cursed pirates,” Idomeneos said. “You’d think a king could sail his own seas without such insult. I swear by Poseidon that once I’ve returned from Troy, I’ll bring a battle fleet into these waters and butcher all the scum I find.”
“How many were there?” Odysseus asked.
“Six galleys. We sank two but lost one ourselves,” Meriones said. “It was a merry time for a while there: flaming arrows, boarding parties, slashing blades. You would have enjoyed it.”
“I’d have enjoyed watching it,” Odysseus said. “The Penelope is no warship. There is no ram on her keel. You think they’ll still be hunting you tomorrow?”
“No doubt about it,” Idomeneos put in. “They know who I am. They also know that every king around the Great Green is heading for Troy about now. This was a ransom raid. They thought to capture me and sell me back to my sons.” He glanced across the beach and saw Nestor walking toward them. “Ah, this is a fine turn of events. Three kings on a beach and not a warship among them.”
Odysseus directed them to the main fire, then waited as injured men were helped from the damaged vessel. It was true: A ransom raid was the most likely explanation for the attack. He chuckled. Not that anyone would pay a copper ring to get Idomeneos back.
Recognizing one of the rescued men, Odysseus walked to where he sat slumped on the sand. “Thought you’d be dead by now,” he said. The white-haired sailor had a deep gash on his shoulder and a second puncture wound above the hip. The cut on the shoulder was bleeding badly. Bias came up with a needle and a ball of thin twine.
The wounded man sighed. “Damn, but I’m sick of stitches, Odysseus. Even my wounds have had wounds.”
“Then what are you doing still at sea, old fool? Last I heard, you had a small farm.”
“Still have. I’ve also got a new young wife and two young sons.” The sailor shook his head. “I’m too old to take the noise and the constant demands.”
Odysseus grinned. “So fighting pirates was preferable?”
“Who would have thought that any pirates would be stupid enough to go against Meriones? Gods, man, we must have killed seventy of them today. Mind you, we lost thirty good men in the doing of it.”
“What happened?” Odysseus asked as Bias threaded the needle.
“We were sailing for Kios. Pirate fleet came from behind a headland. Six galleys. I thought we were finished for sure.” He glanced across at the kings by the fire. “We had Meriones, though. Best fighting sailor on the Great Green. Gave us an edge. Not much of one, mind. We were boarded. Hand to hand then.” The man gave a wry chuckle. “That’s when old Sharptooth laid into them. Man, you should have seen the shock on their faces.”
“Sharptooth?” Odysseus queried, pinching two flaps of skin together so that Bias could pierce them with the needle. The old sailor winced.
“King Idomeneos. We call him Sharptooth. He doesn’t mind. Truth to tell, I think he likes it. He’s a fighter, that one. Mean-spirited as a skinny whore and cold-blooded as a snake, but when it comes to fighting… Man, he was in among them so fast, shouting war cries and insults. It was a sight to see. Gladdens the heart to have a brave king.”
“The gods always bless a man with courage.”
“I hope you are right, Ugly One. But we were saved by the stamping feet of the gods. When the sea started to tremble, the pirates called off the attack. They will still be there tomorrow, though.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
CIRCLE OF THE ASSASSIN
Odysseus moved to the fire and sat down alongside the sleeping Ganny. The dark-garbed Meriones was slumped down on the sand, rubbing at his eyes. The man looked exhausted, Odysseus thought. Meriones was strong but no longer young. The battle with the pirates and then the long struggle to bring the ship to safety had drained him. Nestor came and threw brushwood on the fire, then eased himself down, favoring his left knee. The old king’s joints were stiffening, Odysseus knew, and pained him greatly. Nearby, King Idomeneos removed his sword belt and laid it on the sand. Odysseus glanced at him. He, too, was past forty. The whole world is getting old, Odysseus thought glumly. Idly he patted the pig, then lifted the borrowed cloak over its flanks. Ganny gave a little grunt, and his eyes opened. His head lifted, and he nuzzled Odysseus’ hand.
“There just has to be a story there,” Meriones said with a chuckle.
“I am in no mood for stories,” Odysseus grunted.
“Oh, then I’ll tell it for you,” Meriones persisted. “Odysseus obviously sailed back to the Witch Queen’s island. You’ll recall it was there some years ago that all his crew were turned into pigs, or so he tells it.”
Odysseus smiled then. “Ah, but that was a good yarn. And you are right, Meriones. You remember my crewman Portheos?” He patted the pig again. “He just couldn’t resist the Witch Queen’s beauty. Everything was going well until she caught him gazing at her tits. I tell you, my friends, it is not a wise move to gaze at a witch’s tits. And this is the result. We kept him on the crew out of loyalty, though he’s as much use as a fart at a feast.”
“What was her name again, that Witch Queen?” Meriones asked.
“Circe. The most beautiful woman you ever saw.”
Meriones laughed aloud, then pointed at the brush enclosure where the other pigs were sleeping. “And who are those unlucky fellows? Did they all stare at the queen’s tits?”
“I fear they did,” Odysseus told him. “Apparently they are all kings from distant isles, beyond Skylla and Charybdis. Each one of them came to the queen’s island to woo her. Their missions were doomed from the start, for the queen had already lost her heart to a handsome sailor, a man of great wit and charm and sublime intelligence.”
“And… that would be you, of course?”
Odysseus chuckled. “Did the description confuse you? Of course it is me.”
Nestor laughed. “You know why she didn’t turn you into a pig, Odysseus? It would have been an improvement.”
“Enough of lies about pigs,” Idomeneos snapped. “What shall we do about the pirates tomorrow? I have less than a dozen men able to fight, and you have a crew of thirty. One small galley against four rammers.”
Odysseus sighed and swung toward the king of Kretos. “Why do your men call you Sharptooth?” he asked. “I see no jutting fang.”
“I’d like to hear the answer to that,” Nestor put in.