Odysseus ran back along the deck and shot three more arrows from the stern. Only one scored a hit, slicing through the forearm of an archer. Odysseus took a deep breath, then loosed a fourth shaft.
“Ha!” he cried triumphantly as the arrow took a man through the throat. “Come at the Penelope, will you?” he bellowed. “By Ares, you’ll regret it, you cowsons!” Several arrows flashed by him, but he stood statue-still, shooting back into the massed pirates. “A little more distance would be pleasant,” he yelled at Bias as another enemy arrow flew past his head.
Now the men of the Penelope fully leaned on their oars, sweat streaming from them as they heaved and pulled. The ship picked up speed. Kalliades lifted his head above the stern rail and watched as the distance between the ships began to increase. He saw Odysseus shoot another pirate, the arrow lancing into the man’s face. Then the king changed the direction of his shafts, sending them over the heads of the bowmen and into the rowers. Two oars on the port side of the enemy vessel crashed together, and the pirate galley veered. The Penelope sped on.
“Hey, donkey face!” Odysseus shouted. “Don’t give up now. Nothing worth having ever comes easy!”
The second galley was closing fast. Bias altered course to keep the distance between them, but that allowed the first pirate vessel to move back into range.
Odysseus swore softly. If they continued in this way, the men of the Penelope would exhaust themselves and the pirates would still catch them. He glanced at Bias.
The black man understood this also. “Which one, my king?” he asked.
“I think we need to kill donkey face,” Odysseus replied.
Bias yelled out orders. The left bank of oars lifted from the water, the men on the right powering their oars at speed. The Penelope swung sharply. Meriones, carrying a powerful black bow, ran to join Odysseus.
“Thought you might be bored,” the Ugly King said, “so I have decided to attack.”
The black-garbed bowman chuckled. “Let us have a wager first.” He pointed to the first pirate ship. An archer had climbed to the prow rail and was waiting, arrow notched, ready to shoot as soon as they came into range. “A gold ring says I can knock him from his perch before you do.”
“Agreed!” Odysseus said.
Both men moved along the central deck to the prow, then drew back on their bows, letting fly together. Two shafts slammed into the chest of the enemy archer. His body crumpled, then tipped forward to plunge into the sea and vanish beneath the keel of the pirate vessel.
Meriones continued to shoot as the distance closed between the ships. Odysseus left him there, running swiftly back to the rear deck. Handing his quiver and bow to Piria, he summoned Kalliades and Banokles to him.
“Bias will swing the Penelope at the last moment, and we’ll try to shear away their starboard oars. Likely, though, that they’ll haul us to them with grappling hooks. When that happens, they’ll expect to board us. What they won’t expect, because of their greater numbers, is that we’ll board them.”
Banokles glanced at the oncoming pirate galley. “Must be around sixty men on that ship.”
“At least.”
“And another sixty on the second ship.”
“You have a point to make, or are you merely bragging about your ability to count?” Banokles fell silent. “Stay close to me,” said Odysseus. “I’m not as nimble as I used to be—and I wasn’t the greatest sword fighter then.”
The Penelope swung hard to port as if seeking to avoid a collision, then, just as swiftly, moved back to starboard. The two vessels crashed together, but the angle of impact meant the ram on the pirate galley merely slid along the starboard side. The Penelope’s rowers tried to drag their oars back across the deck to prevent them from being splintered, but the collision had come so swiftly that only six of the fifteen oars were saved. Even greater damage was done to the pirate oars as the Penelope slid along the galley’s hull. Grappling hooks were hurled from the pirate vessel, biting into the Penelope’s rail.
This close, Odysseus could see the faces of the pirates. Many of them were men who had cheered him the night before, begging him for more tales. They were garbed now for war, some in leather breastplates, others in makeshift shirts of thick knotted rope. There were helms of all kinds, some in the high, curved Phrygian style, some of wood, some of leather. Several of the men wore headgear crafted from copper. Most of them were carrying daggers, though many held clubs of wood.
“Follow me,” Odysseus said. He glanced at Banokles and grinned. “If you have the balls for it.” Drawing his sword, he ran down to the central deck and hurled himself across the narrow gap and into the mass of fighting men on the pirate ship.
He slammed into the first rank shoulder first, his weight scattering them. Several men fell heavily; others tried to make room to stab at him. Odysseus grabbed a man by his rope shirt, hauling him in to a savage head butt. Blood exploded from the man’s ruined nose. Odysseus hurled him aside, then slashed his sword in a wide arc. It struck a pirate in the forearm, slicing through flesh and spraying blood through the air.
“Come at Odysseus, would you?” he raged, his sword hacking and slashing left and right. For a moment the pirates fell back from the fury of his assault. Then they surged at him. The huge form of Banokles clattered into them, spilling men to the deck. Then came Kalliades, his sword stabbing out like a serpent’s tongue, lancing into throats, chests, and bellies. “You are all dead men now!” Odysseus bellowed. A pirate darted at him, stabbing for the throat. Odysseus threw up his left arm, blocking the blow, hammering his sword against the pirate’s skull and shearing away his ear. The man screamed and fell back.
Other warriors from the Penelope joined in the attack. Banokles shoulder charged a man, sending him flying. Odysseus continued to rage at the pirates, shouting battle cries and insults as he powered forward. Kalliades had forced his way to the right of Odysseus and was fighting defensively, protecting the Ugly King. Banokles was on the left. Even in the midst of the action Odysseus noted the skill they showed. The three had now formed a wedge with Odysseus as the point. At first they forced the pirates back, but then the weight of numbers began to tell, and the advance slowed.
Odysseus was tiring, for he had fought with no economy of effort, slashing his sword about him with all his might. A pirate hurled himself at him, his club thudding against Odysseus’ leather breastplate. The king stumbled and fell back, hitting the deck hard. Kalliades turned swiftly, plunging his sword through the back of the pirate’s neck. The dead man fell across Odysseus. Kalliades took up a defensive position in front of Odysseus to block any further attacks. Odysseus pushed the dead man away from him and slowly climbed to his feet, sucking in great breaths. The noise of battle was all around him now, the deck slick with blood. His sword arm felt as if it were weighed down with rocks, but his strength was returning.