quality that had afflicted Priam.
"Nothing good," I said. "There will be battle tomorrow."
Poletes's skinny shoulders slumped beneath his worn tunic. "The fools. The bloody fools."
I knew better, but I did not reveal it. There would be battle tomorrow because I would not let the two sides know that each side was prepared to make peace.
I went straight to Odysseus, with Poletes skipping beside me, his knobby legs working overtime to keep pace with me. Soldiers and noblemen alike stared at me, reading in my grim face the news I brought from Troy. The women looked too, then turned away, knowing that tomorrow would bring blood and carnage and terror. Many of them were natives of this land, and hoped to be freed of bondage by the Trojan soldiery. But they knew, I think, that in the frenzy and bloodlust of battle, their chances of being raped and put to the sword were much more likely than their chances of being rescued and returned to their rightful households.
Odysseus's quarters were on the deck of his boat. He received me alone, dismissing his aides and servants to hear my report. He was naked and wet from his morning swim, rubbing himself briskly with a rough towel. Sitting on a three-legged stool, he rested his back against the boat's only mast. The musty canvas that had served as a tent when it had been raining was folded back now that the hot sun was shining, but his bearded face was as dark and foreboding as any storm cloud as I told him that Priam and his sons rejected the Achaian peace terms.
"They offered no counter terms?" he asked, once I had finished my report.
Without hesitating, I lied, "None. Aleksandros said he would never surrender Helen under any circumstances."
"Nothing else?"
"He and Prince Hector told me that a Hatti army is marching to their assistance."
Odysseus's eyes widened. "What? How far are they from here?"
"A few days' march, from what Aleksandros said."
He tugged at his beard, real consternation in his face. "That cannot be," he muttered. "It cannot be!"
I waited in silence, and looked out across the rows of beached boats. Each of them had its mast in place, as if the crews were making ready to sail. The masts had not been up the day before.
Finally Odysseus jumped to his feet. "Come with me," he said urgently. "Agamemnon must hear of this."
Chapter 12
"The Hatti are marching here? To aid Priam?" Agamemnon piped in his high squeaking voice. "Impossible! It can't be true!"
The High King looked startled, even frightened. He sat at the head of the council, his right shoulder swathed in strips of cloth smeared with blood and some oily poultice.
He was broad of shoulder and body, built like a squat turret, round and thick from neck to hips. He wore a coat of gilded mail over his tunic, and a harness of gleaming leather over that, with silver buckles and ornaments. A jeweled sword hung at his side. Even his legs were encased in elaborately decorated bronze greaves, buckled in silver. His sandals had gold tassels on their thongs.
All in all, Agamemnon looked as if he were dressed for battle rather than a council of his chief lieutenants, the kings and princes of the various Achaian tribes.
But, knowing the Achaians and their penchant for argument, perhaps he hoped to awe them with his panoply. Or perhaps he thought he was going into a battle.
Thirty-two men sat in a circle around the small hearth fire in Agamemnon's hut, the leaders of the Achaian contingents. Every group allied to Agamemnon and his brother Menalaos was there, although the Myrmidones were represented by Patrokles, rather than Achilles. I sat behind Odysseus, who was placed two seatsdown on the High King's right, so I had the opportunity to study Agamemnon closely.
There was precious little nobility in the features of the High King. Like his body, his face was broad and heavy, with a wide stub of a nose, a thick brow, and deep-set eyes that seemed to look out at the world with suspicion and resentment. His hair and
"Nothing good," I said. "There will be battle tomorrow."
Poletes's skinny shoulders slumped beneath his worn tunic. "The fools. The bloody fools."
I knew better, but I did not reveal it. There would be battle tomorrow because I would not let the two sides know that each side was prepared to make peace.
I went straight to Odysseus, with Poletes skipping beside me, his knobby legs working overtime to keep pace with me. Soldiers and noblemen alike stared at me, reading in my grim face the news I brought from Troy. The women looked too, then turned away, knowing that tomorrow would bring blood and carnage and terror. Many of them were natives of this land, and hoped to be freed of bondage by the Trojan soldiery. But they knew, I think, that in the frenzy and bloodlust of battle, their chances of being raped and put to the sword were much more likely than their chances of being rescued and returned to their rightful households.
Odysseus's quarters were on the deck of his boat. He received me alone, dismissing his aides and servants to hear my report. He was naked and wet from his morning swim, rubbing himself briskly with a rough towel. Sitting on a three-legged stool, he rested his back against the boat's only mast. The musty canvas that had served as a tent when it had been raining was folded back now that the hot sun was shining, but his bearded face was as dark and foreboding as any storm cloud as I told him that Priam and his sons rejected the Achaian peace terms.
"They offered no counter terms?" he asked, once I had finished my report.
Without hesitating, I lied, "None. Aleksandros said he would never surrender Helen under any circumstances."
"Nothing else?"
"He and Prince Hector told me that a Hatti army is marching to their assistance."
Odysseus's eyes widened. "What? How far are they from here?"
"A few days' march, from what Aleksandros said."
He tugged at his beard, real consternation in his face. "That cannot be," he muttered. "It cannot be!"
I waited in silence, and looked out across the rows of beached boats. Each of them had its mast in place, as if the crews were making ready to sail. The masts had not been up the day before.
Finally Odysseus jumped to his feet. "Come with me," he said urgently. "Agamemnon must hear of this."
Chapter 12
"The Hatti are marching here? To aid Priam?" Agamemnon piped in his high squeaking voice. "Impossible! It can't be true!"
The High King looked startled, even frightened. He sat at the head of the council, his right shoulder swathed in strips of cloth smeared with blood and some oily poultice.
He was broad of shoulder and body, built like a squat turret, round and thick from neck to hips. He wore a coat of gilded mail over his tunic, and a harness of gleaming leather over that, with silver buckles and ornaments. A jeweled sword hung at his side. Even his legs were encased in elaborately decorated bronze greaves, buckled in silver. His sandals had gold tassels on their thongs.
All in all, Agamemnon looked as if he were dressed for battle rather than a council of his chief lieutenants, the kings and princes of the various Achaian tribes.
But, knowing the Achaians and their penchant for argument, perhaps he hoped to awe them with his panoply. Or perhaps he thought he was going into a battle.
Thirty-two men sat in a circle around the small hearth fire in Agamemnon's hut, the leaders of the Achaian contingents. Every group allied to Agamemnon and his brother Menalaos was there, although the Myrmidones were represented by Patrokles, rather than Achilles. I sat behind Odysseus, who was placed two seatsdown on the High King's right, so I had the opportunity to study Agamemnon closely.
There was precious little nobility in the features of the High King. Like his body, his face was broad and heavy, with a wide stub of a nose, a thick brow, and deep-set eyes that seemed to look out at the world with suspicion and resentment. His hair and
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