03 - Fall of Kings Read online

  “Well, Your Highness, will you do us the honor of eating and drinking with us tonight?” asked the hated voice.

  Penelope’s gaze reluctantly focused on the gaunt, cruel features of Antinous, her captor and tormentor, as he bowed elaborately before her. He was young, having hardly more than twenty summers, but he was clever and ruthless. The hint of insanity in his green eyes could be feigned, she thought, but it made the older pirates step around him with care. His hair was dark and long, and a single thin braid decorated with gold wire hung from his right temple.

  In the nineteen endless days since the attack—days the queen had marked as carefully as she marked the kicking of the child inside her—Penelope had learned a lot about the pirates and their ways. Most were spiteful, stupid men who believed that cruelty and murder made them strong. They were undisciplined and prone to sudden outbursts of rage and violence. Of the five pirate leaders who had banded together under Antinous’ leadership to attack Ithaka, three were dead at Antinous’ hand. Another had been killed in a fight over a captured woman.

  “Well, my lady? Shall I untie your hands and have food brought?” Antinous’ grinning face was inches from hers. She smelled meat on his breath but not wine, for he never drank.

  Penelope ignored him. His hand snaked out, slapping her face hard and jarring her teeth. She could taste blood on her tongue. “Or shall I give you to my men tonight?” Antinous inquired softly, gesturing to the drunken rabble. “They will make you squeal.”

  The queen focused her gaze on his too-calm eyes, eyes she would see in her dreams as long as she lived.

  “Do as you will, pirate,” she said coldly. “I am Penelope, queen of Ithaka. My husband is the great Odysseus, and he is coming here to kill you. Hear the words of your death, Antinous.”

  Antinous laughed lightly and stood back. “We are impatient for your husband’s arrival. I hear that he and a few old men like him are coming to rescue you. All across the Great Green I expect they are speaking of it.” He gestured again around the hall. “My fighters are young and strong and fearless. They will relish cutting out the heart of fat Odysseus.” Then he moved alongside her and whispered in her ear. “But first I will make him watch you die. He will see you raped by my men, then watch as I put out your eyes and cut his foul get from your belly.”

  Despite the terror in her heart, Penelope forced a smile. “Your words mean nothing, blowhard. You are already dead. This I promise.”

  There was movement in the doorway far down the hall, and she saw a new group enter. Eagerly she scanned their faces. There was a muscled giant she first thought was Leukon, but as he turned to her, she saw the violence in his eyes and realized he was just a killer.

  Then she saw a face she knew. Sekundos! He was an old rogue Odysseus had had dealings with in happier days but was pirate scum nonetheless. No hope for her there. Others of his crew followed him in, ragged men in threadbare tunics. They looked more like beggars than pirates.

  “Looking for rescue, Penelope?” Antinous asked her. “Old Sekundos is not a savior. Soft as puppy shit and close to senile, but he tells me he knows the island well—all the hidden places where your peasants and their women are cowering in fear.”

  Penelope closed her eyes, seeking a few heartbeats of release from his presence. But she could not force his face from her mind and saw again the dreadful day he had come to Ithaka.

  His eight galleys had sailed through the morning mist, and two hundred warriors had stormed ashore. The small garrison of thirty fighting men had battled valiantly all day, but by twilight all of her soldiers, most of them boys and ancients, had lain dead. The bodies of those brave men had been impaled on spikes on the beach for Odysseus to see when he arrived. The stench of rotting flesh on the breeze was appalling.

  The pirate chief spoke again. Penelope opened her eyes. “And Sekundos will show us where the black savage is hiding,” he said. “I will have him brought here and slowly dismembered. You can watch him suffer and hear his screams.”

  One-armed Bias had defended her through the long day of the attack, killing and wounding more than a dozen invaders until, as hope faded, he reluctantly had retreated on her stern orders, disappearing into the night like a phantom. Each day she heard whispers among the pirates of the dark demon who picked off sentries and lone stragglers. Antinous had scoured the island for him but had not found him.

  Penelope had been dragged into her own palace and hurled to the floor before the young pirate chief. He had kicked her in the face and hauled her up by her hair. When she had tried to strike him, he had grasped her fingers, twisting them until two snapped. Then he had punched her to the ground. Half-dazed with pain, she had heard his cold voice.

  “I am Antinous, son of a father murdered by Odysseus. I am here for vengeance.”

  “Odysseus is no murderer,” she replied, spitting blood from her mouth.

  “A foul lie. He was on a ship with Nestor and Idomeneos in a sea battle against my father.”

  “Three kings in a sea battle? Ah, yes,” she said, staring up at his long, angular face. “Odysseus spoke of it often, and now I see the resemblance. Your father was the man known as Donkey Face.”

  He had punched her again, breaking her nose, then had grabbed her hair, slapping her again and again. Finally, she had sunk unconscious to the floor and had awoken in a tiny cell.

  Now she watched Sekundos the Kretan walk up to her, an old shield hanging loosely from his shoulder. He looked frightened, and there was sweat glistening on his bald head.

  Glancing nervously at Antinous, he said, “Greetings, lady. I am sorry to see you brought so low.” She saw his gaze taking in her crippled fingers and the crusted blood around her eyes and mouth.

  She smiled gently. “Greetings, Sekundos. The company you keep brings you only shame.”

  “There is so much shame in my life, lady, that a little more would not weigh heavily on me.”

  Antinous laughed and pushed the old pirate away. Then he turned toward Penelope. “You speak of shame in my presence, when I have treated you so well? I fear I must teach you manners!” He raised his left hand to strike her. At that moment there came a hissing sound, and a black-feathered arrow hurtling toward his head plunged instead through his forearm. Antinous cried out in pain and staggered back.

  Penelope looked down the length of the hall.

  In the far doorway, dressed like a beggar, stood Odysseus, the great bow Akilina in his hand. “And now, you cowsons,” he bellowed, “it is time to die!”

  Shocked silence fell. No one moved. In that moment Odysseus calmly notched another arrow and let it fly. The shaft plunged through the throat of a yellow-haired tribesman, who fell back dead.

  Pandemonium broke out. Some pirates tried to run for cover. Others grabbed their weapons and charged at the Ithakan king, but a huge dark-haired warrior carrying two swords stepped into their path. He slashed his sword through the throat of the first before ramming his second blade deep into the chest of the pirate alongside him.

  Others of Odysseus’ disguised crew drew weapons and attacked. Odysseus ran toward the long feasting table in the center of the hall. A man reared up before him. Odysseus shoulder charged him to the floor, then leaped onto the table.

  “I am Odysseus!” he shouted. “You are all dead men now!” His voice boomed like thunder, the words echoing from the rafters.

  Achilles and the crew of the Bloodhawk were fighting furiously before the doors, forcing the enemy back toward the center of the hall. Odysseus sent a shaft through the skull of a tall pirate. Two more warriors scrambled onto the table and rushed at him. Odysseus swung Akilina like a club, cracking the bow against the face of the first. The man was hurled from the table. Odysseus twisted to one side and kicked the second man in the knee. The pirate screamed and fell.

  A spear flew past Odysseus’ head. He shot an arrow into the chest of the man who had thrown it.

  Standing by the throne, Antinous snapped off the arrow in his forearm and
with a cry of pain dragged the shaft clear. His left hand was useless, the thumb paralyzed. Drawing a short stabbing sword, he shouted, “Odysseus! Watch your wife die!” Penelope shrank away as the sword blade lanced toward her throat—to be blocked by the shield of Sekundos. The old man’s sword slashed at him, but he was too slow, and Antinous swayed away from the blade.

  “You treacherous cur!” Antinous hissed. “You brought them here! Now you can die with them.”

  Antinous attacked. Sekundos blocked a thrust with his shield, but Antinous dropped to one knee, his sword slicing beneath the shield and cutting deeply into the old man’s thigh. Sekundos cried out and fell back. Antinous glanced down the long megaron. Odysseus had jumped off the table and thrown aside his bow. He now was fighting with a sword, slashing ferociously left and right, trying to force his way through to his wife.

  The balance of the battle was shifting, Antinous realized. The advantage of surprise had been with Odysseus and his men, but that had passed, and the weight of numbers was beginning to tell. There had been almost one hundred fifty pirates in the megaron. The fighting men with Odysseus numbered only forty. They were being forced back slowly toward the great doors. They would have been overrun swiftly were it not for the giant black-haired warrior with the two blades. His strength was terrifying. Again and again his swords cut through defenses, bodies piling up around him.

  Antinous turned his attention back to Sekundos, for the old man was advancing on him, shield held high, stabbing sword at the ready.

  Antinous laughed. “Old fool, you should have quit the sea years ago. Your muscles are wasted, your speed gone, your bones brittle.”

  Antinous darted in, making a feint toward the groin. Sekundos dropped his shield to block the blow. Antinous plunged his short sword over the shield and into the old man’s chest. Sekundos groaned and fell back, his shield clattering to the floor.

  In the center of the hall Odysseus was surrounded by pirates, but he surged into them, shouting curses. “Take him alive!” Antinous shouted. “I want him alive!”

  Suddenly the great doors were thrust open. More warriors came pouring in, screaming a battle cry.

  “Penelope! PENELOPE!”

  Antinous stood aghast as more and more fighting men swarmed into the palace. At their center was a warrior in a full-faced helm and breastplate of glittering bronze. He tore into the pirates, cutting down one man and then another.

  In panic the pirates fell back once more. Some fled through the side doors to the servants’ quarters. Others retreated toward the throne. The bronze warrior and his men followed hard on their heels, his sword cutting and killing, blood spraying from the blade.

  The black-haired giant was beside him now. Antinous had never seen such a deadly display of fighting skills, had not believed it was possible. The bronze warrior was fast, swaying away from plunging blades, his sword lancing out with impossible precision. The giant radiated invincibility, smashing his way into the ranks of the pirates, spilling men from their feet.

  Antinous backed away, seeking an escape route.

  Then he saw Odysseus advancing toward him, blood pouring from many cuts in his arms and shoulders. The stocky king hurled himself forward, scattering the pirates before him, and charged at Antinous.

  The pirate chief shouted a curse and leaped to meet him. Their swords clanged together. Odysseus’ left hand snaked out, grabbing the front of Antinous’ tunic and dragging him into a head butt that smashed his nose. Half-blinded, Antinous struggled to free himself from the older man’s grip, but he could not. Pain, hideous and burning, tore into his belly and up through his lungs. All strength fled from him. The sounds of battle receded in his ears. He found himself staring into the eyes of Odysseus and saw no pity there.

  The sword in his belly was half withdrawn, then twisted savagely.

  Agony ripped through the pirate chief. The blade was torn clear of him, his entrails flopping out. Hurled aside like a bloodstained rag, Antinous was dead before his body struck the floor.

  Old Sekundos, his face ashen with pain, dragged himself alongside Penelope. His strength failing, he sagged against the throne before slipping to the floor.

  Outside the palace fleeing pirates were met with a hail of arrows, then a charge led by Oniacus and a score of fighting men from the Xanthos. Three survivors broke clear, only to be met by a huge one-armed black man. Leaping forward, Bias stabbed the first in the neck, then plunged the blade into the chest of the second. The third man raced clear. A black-shafted arrow slammed into his back. He staggered forward for several paces, then pitched face-first to the ground.

  A group of pirates escaped through the side doors and dashed down to the beach. On the great galley Xanthos all was dark, and the survivors raced toward it, hoping to capture the ship. As they started to climb the trailing ropes, dark shapes appeared above them, and a hail of arrows ripped into them from the high deck. On the stern of the ship Andromache stood calmly, shooting shafts with others of the ship’s archers, her arrows slamming into the pirates with cold precision.

  Inside the palace the battle was over. Some of the pirates cried out for mercy. None was given.

  Odysseus dropped his sword and ran to his wife, kneeling alongside her. Swiftly he untied her hands; then, cradling her shaved head in his hands, he kissed her brow. There were tears in his eyes. “I am so sorry,” he said. “This is my fault.”

  Penelope clung to him with her good hand, and for a moment they were silent, close in each other’s arms, scarcely believing they were together again and safe.

  “I knew you would come, Ugly One. It was most foolish of you,” she murmured at last. Lifting her broken hand, she gently stroked his face. “And look at you, all cuts and bruises.”

  The bronze warrior approached them and lifted clear his helm. Penelope looked up into his sky-blue eyes.

  “I had thought there was little left in this world to surprise me,” she said. “But you prove me wrong. Welcome to my house, Helikaon.” She looked beyond him to the blood-spattered giant.

  “I am Achilles,” he told her.

  “You could be no other,” she replied.

  For the next three days the men of the Xanthos helped Odysseus’ crew clear away the bodies of the pirates and prepare the funeral pyres. Refugees moved back from their hiding places in the hills, returning to their looted homes. Andromache joined the women of Ithaka as they moved through the megaron and the surrounding rooms, scrubbing away the blood and clearing the filth the pirates and their whores had left in their wake.

  Little was seen of Penelope during that time, and Odysseus appeared only rarely.

  By the evening of the third day the palace was once more habitable. The cleansing of homes brought a sense of normality, but many had lost loved ones, and there was an air of despondency throughout the settlement.

  The only surgeon on Ithaka had been killed by the attackers, and the wounded were tended by Bias, Oniacus, and Andromache. All three had some experience with herbs and medicinal plants.

  Just before sunset on the fourth day, Penelope emerged from her rooms and walked among the wounded, a bright scarf of gold wrapped around her shaved head. She could not assist with the work, for her fingers had been splinted. But she sat with the wounded, talking to them, praising their courage.

  Old Sekundos was dying. Penelope went to where he lay on a pallet bed in the sunshine. He had asked to be carried out so that he could see the Great Green one last time.

  When Penelope arrived, he smiled. “Too old… and slow,” he said. “Was a time…”

  “Yes,” Penelope replied, her voice tender, “you were too old to win. But not too old to save my life and that of my child.”

  A faint smile touched the old man’s lips. “Always… wanted to be… in one of Odysseus’ tales.” He looked up at the clear blue sky. “Beautiful day to be… sailing,” he whispered.

  Penelope’s vision blurred. “You are a hero, Sekundos. And I am sorry I spoke of shame when we met.”<
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  The old man rallied at the compliment. “You… remembered my name. That is… a great honor for me,” he told the queen. Then, his strength fading, he looked up at her. “You must leave me now. I have… a wish… to die alone. Just me… and the Great Green.”

  Penelope leaned down and kissed his brow. “May your journey be swift and the Fields of Elysium welcoming.”

  Just then Andromache emerged from the palace. “Walk with me,” said the queen, then led the way up a gently sloping hill. Andromache saw that she was trembling and her footsteps were unsteady. She took Penelope’s arm, and together they made their way toward the crest of the hill.

  “You are still weak,” Andromache said. “You should be resting.”

  Penelope took a deep breath. “Odysseus does not ask, but I feel the questioning eyes of others upon me. They all wonder what violation I suffered and whether my pride has been shattered.”

  “There is not a man alive who could take away your pride, let alone shatter it,” Andromache said.

  “Fine words from someone who does not know me.” The rebuke was spoken gently.

  “I do know you,” Andromache told her. “From all that Odysseus told me of you and from all that I have seen and heard since I have been here. All speak of their love for you, their respect for you, and their pride in you.”

  Penelope did not reply but led the way to a stone bench on a hill overlooking the bay. The pirate ships were still drawn up below, as was the mighty Xanthos. The two women sat in silence for a while, and then Andromache spoke. “Odysseus is a good man. I like him greatly.”

  Penelope sighed. “He has not asked me what I suffered. I wonder at that.”

  “Do not wonder too deeply,” Andromache warned her. “I saw Odysseus when the Xanthos arrived at the pirate isle. I have never seen a man so tormented, so frightened. He feared losing you. Now he is saddened by your pain, but he cannot hide the joy in his eyes that you are alive. He does not ask because all that matters to him is that you are safe and he is with you.”