Lord of the Silver Bow (38 page)

“What are you thinking?” she whispered.

He smiled. “All my life I have been waiting for this moment, only I did not know it. I was thinking that I would rather be here now, standing with you, than anywhere else on the Great Green.”

XXXII

SPEARS IN THE NIGHT

I

With the gates closed and the initial burst of combat behind him, Argurios stood in the courtyard before the palace. On the walls above him some forty Eagles, armed with Phrygian bows, were waiting for the next attack. Behind him he could hear orders being shouted within the king’s
megaron.
Argurios stood silently, heavy of heart.

He had come there as a Mykene outlaw, determined to seek Priam’s permission to wed his daughter. Now he had been caught up in a civil war. The thought of battle did not disturb him. His whole adult life had been honed in combat. What troubled him, as he stood quietly in the calm before the onslaught, was that Mykene warriors were coming. If Agamemnon had agreed to support Agathon with a small force, it would be made up of the finest warriors of his army. Argurios would have fought beside most of them, celebrated victories with them, commiserated with them when mutual comrades fell. Faces swarmed before his mind’s eye: Kalliades the tall, Menides the spear carrier, Banokles the one-eared, Eruthros the joker, Ajax the skull splitter. . . .

Were they even now marching toward the citadel?

And if they were, how could he, as a Mykene warrior, take up arms against them?

Could he stab tall Kalliades and watch him fall? Could he send Banokles into the Underworld?

Yet these same men were coming to kill the father of the woman he loved. And what would be her fate if they succeeded? That was a question he could answer. Though Argurios himself had never raped a woman, he knew that such activity was common after a battle.

Anger built in him at the thought of such a fate for Laodike. No, I will not allow that, he decided. I would cut the heart from Agamemnon himself rather than see Laodike hurt.

Moving swiftly to the foot of the rampart, he climbed the twenty steps to where Polydorus was crouched down behind the crenellated wall. Argurios raised his head above the parapet, swiftly scanning the open ground beyond. There were no warriors in sight, though he could see men massing in the shadows of the narrow streets some eighty paces away.

“They will be seeking ladders,” said Argurios.

“They will find plenty of them,” replied Polydorus. “There is always new building work in Troy.”

The walls were no more than the height of two tall men. If the enemy set wagons against them, they would be able to leap from them and haul themselves over the battlements. Argurios glanced back at the palace. Above and to the left of the doors was a long balcony with high windows. Once the enemy opened the gates, they could bring their ladders to the palace walls and scale them, entering the building from above. With enough men Argurios could have held the outer walls for days. Similarly, with three hundred hardened warriors he could defend the palace against a horde. It was galling to have such a fortress and too few soldiers to keep it secure.

“I am going inside,” he told Polydorus. “I need to study the
megaron
and plan for its defense. If they attack before I return, loose several volleys into them and hold the first assault. That is vital.”

“We will hold, Argurios,” muttered Polydorus. “All night if we have to.”

“It will not be all night. I will explain more when I return.”

Polydorus smiled. “Something to tell my children when they grow up, eh? I fought beside Argurios.”

“You have children?”

“Not yet. But a man must think ahead.”

Argurios ran down the steps and across the courtyard. Inside the
megaron
all but the main doors had been barricaded. He saw Priam sitting on his throne, dressed in elaborate armor decorated with gold and silver, a high-crested helmet upon his lap. Everywhere there were armed men. They had almost stripped the walls of shields and spears. Alongside the king stood Prince Dios. He wore no armor, though a sword was belted by his side.

Argurios approached them. Priam looked up. “Have the dogs fled?” he asked, sober now, though his eyes were bloodshot and weary.

“No, Priam King. They are gathering ladders. They will come soon. We need archers on the outer balcony above the doors. Thirty should suffice. I will order the men on the walls to pull back to the
megaron
once the attack begins in earnest.”

“Who are you to give orders?” snapped Dios, his eyes angry.

“He is Argurios,” said Priam calmly. “He is fighting at my side.”

“We should put every man we have on the outer walls,” raged Dios. “We can hold them.”

“What say you to that, Argurios?” asked Priam.

“With three hundred men I would agree with Prince Dios. However, with so few the risk is encirclement. If they get behind us, we will be cut to pieces. We must keep a line of withdrawal secure for as long as possible. My plan is to hold the wall for the first attack, then quietly pull back. When they come again, we will hit them with volley after volley of arrows from the balcony.”

“And then we bar the doors?” asked Priam.

“No, King. We leave them open.”

Priam was surprised. “Explain that strategy,” he said.

“There are many ways for an enemy to come at us. There is the door to the palace gardens. They could bring their ladders and climb to the balcony. They can come through the rear. We want them attacking where we are strongest. The open doors will be an invitation they will not resist. They will be drawn to us like flies to horse shit, and we will hold them there. At least until the Mykene arrive.”

“By the fates, Father,” said Dios, “how can we trust this man? He, too, is Mykene.”

Argurios took a deep, calming breath. “Indeed I am, Prince. Believe me when I tell you I would rather be anywhere than here at this moment. If the Mykene succeed here, I will be killed along with all of you. Now we have little time to prepare and no time at all for personal feuds.” He turned to the king. “If you have a better man than I to command this defense, appoint him and I will stand and fight wherever called upon to do so.”

“I am the king,” Priam said coldly. “I will command my own defense. You think I am a weakling, some ancient unable to wield a sword?”

“It is not a question of your strength or your abilities,” answered Argurios. “If I were commanding the attackers, I would pray to all the gods that you would do
exactly
that. They win when you die. Every man among them will be seeking to kill you. Your armor shines like the sun, and every attack will home in on you. Every arrow, every spear, every sword will seek you. Your men will fight valiantly—but only so long as there is a king to fight for.”

At that moment Helikaon came through to the
megaron
and stood alongside Dios. “We have blocked the rear entrances,” he said, “but they will not hold long. What are your orders?”

Priam sat quietly for a moment. “Argurios advises that I withdraw myself from the fighting. What say you?”

“Sound advice. This fight will not just be about holding the palace but about defending you.”

“Let me take command in your stead, Father,” urged Dios.

Priam shook his head. “You have too little experience, and as Argurios says, there is no time for debate. The men will follow you, Aeneas. This I know. Equally, Argurios is known across the Great Green as a
strategos
and a fighting man. What is your opinion?”

“I have little experience of siege warfare and less of Mykene battle tactics,” said Helikaon. “I would follow the lead of Argurios.”

“Then let it be so.” Priam suddenly laughed. “A renegade Mykene in charge of the defense of my citadel? I like it. When we win, you can ask me anything. I will grant it. We are yours to command, Argurios.”

Argurios swung to Dios. “You will command the defense of the upper balconies. Take thirty good archers and also the men with the least armor. They will be protected from arrows by the balcony walls. The enemy will bring ladders. Hold them off as long as you can, then retreat to the
megaron
and we will pull back to the upper buildings at the rear.”

Dios, his face pale, his expression furious, was struggling to hold his temper.

“Do as he says,” snapped Priam.

“This is madness,” responded Dios. “But I will obey you, Father. As always.” With that he stalked away.

“Let us survey the battleground,” said Argurios, striding away through the
megaron.

Priam and Helikaon followed him. Argurios reached the foot of the stairs. They were wide enough for two warriors to fight side by side. Then he glanced up at the gallery above and to the right of the stairway. “We will have archers placed there. They will have a good view of the
megaron
itself. We need as many shafts as possible placed there. Spears and javelins, too, if we have enough. What is beyond the gallery?”

“The queen’s apartments,” said Priam. “They are large and spacious.”

Argurios strode up the stairs, Helikaon and Priam following him. In the queen’s apartments he saw Laodike on her bloodstained couch, Andromache sitting on the floor beside her. All thoughts of the defense fled from his mind. Pulling off his helmet, he moved to Laodike and took her hand. Her eyes opened, and she gave a wide smile. “What happened?” he asked her.

“I was wounded,” Laodike told him. “Do not concern yourself. It is nothing.” Reaching up, she stroked his face. “I am glad you are here. Have you spoken to Father?”

“Not yet. I cannot stay with you. There is much to be done. I will come back when I can. You rest now.” Kissing her hand, he rose and walked back to where the king and Helikaon waited. Only then did he see the shock on Priam’s face. Argurios moved past them and walked through to the rear stairs. Then he turned back and strode through the many apartments. “The balconies are largely inaccessible,” he said. “Therefore, the enemy will be forced to come at us through the
megaron.
I believe we can hold the Thrakians at the doors. The Mykene will be another matter.”

“We could retreat to the stairs,” said Helikaon.

“We will do that, but the timing is crucial,” answered Argurios, walking back to the gallery above the stairs. “We must keep their blood up, forcing them to come at us. We must not allow them time to stop and think. For if they do, they will realize that this gallery is the key to victory. Once inside the
megaron
all they need to do is bring in ladders and scale it. That way they would bypass the stairs and surround us.”

“And how do we keep their blood up?” demanded Priam.

“They will see me and come at me. I will be their target and the focus of their attack. We will pull back to the stairs. They will surge after us. Then their hearts will be full of pride and battle lust. Will you stand beside me, Helikaon?”

“I will.”

“Good, for however much they will desire to bring me down, it is you they hate. Seeing us together will blind them to better strategies. And now I must return to the wall.”

“A moment more,” said Priam. “How is it my daughter greets you with affection?”

Argurios could see the anger in the king’s eyes. “You said if we survived the night you would grant any wish I had. My wish is to marry Laodike. I love her. But is this truly the time to discuss it?”

Priam relaxed, then gave a cold smile. “If I am still king tomorrow, we will discuss it at length.”

Argurios stood quietly for a moment. Then he turned to Helikaon. “Organize the defenders within the
megaron.
Then watch the walls. We need to turn back the first attack with heavy losses. It will dismay the mercenaries. When the moment is right, come to our aid.”

“Rely on it,” said Helikaon.

“Judge it finely, Golden One.”

And with that he moved off, striding toward the double doors and the courtyard beyond.

II

Polydorus peered through the gap in the crenellations of the ramparts.The Thrakians were gathering in the shadows of the buildings. Anger touched him, but he quelled it. Yesterday Kasilla’s parents had finally agreed to the wedding, in part owing to the intervention of Laodike. She had visited the family home and had spoken to Kasilla’s mother. She had also taken a gift for the father, a golden wine goblet encrusted with red gems. This powerful link to the nobility had finally won them over. Kasilla had been overjoyed, and Polydorus considered himself the luckiest man alive.

Now he felt as if he were part of some grim jest being played out by the gods. Polydorus was no fool. There were not enough men to defend the palace against the Thrakians, let alone the Mykene. Once the Thrakians gathered enough ladders to storm the walls, the battle would be all but over. The fighting would be fierce and bloody and the Eagles would take a terrible toll on the enemy, but the end was certain. Kasilla would mourn for him, of course, but she was young, and her father would find another suitor.

Argurios climbed to the ramparts alongside him. “Any movement?”

“They are gathering. I have not seen any Mykene yet.”

“They will come once the gates are open.”

“What is the battle plan?” asked Polydorus.

“Hold here for a while, then back to the palace itself.”

“The palace doors are sturdy,” observed Polydorus, “but they’ll not hold for long.”

“They won’t have to,” said Argurios. “I don’t intend to close them. I want the enemy funneled toward those doors. We’ll hit them from above and hold them in the doorway.”

“Surely barring the palace doors would give us more time.”

“It would,” agreed Argurios. “It would also leach away the spirit of those inside, listening to the hacking of axes on the timber. Better to face your enemy eye-to-eye. My father used to say a wall of men was stronger than a wall of stone. I have seen it to be true in many battles.”

Polydorus raised his head and peered through the darkness. An arrow struck the ramparts close to his head, then ricocheted past him.

“You are all going to die tonight!” came a shout from the shadows. It was immediately followed by the trilling battle cry of the Thrakians.

Then came another voice. “Are you there, Argurios the traitor?”

“I am here, puppy dog!” Argurios shouted back.

“That gladdens my heart! I will see you soon.”