The Armour of Achilles (12 page)

He gave a curt bow to Astynome and left. Eperitus rose at once and pulled on his tunic. Astynome came over to him and slipped her arms around his shoulders, placing a kiss on his lips.

‘Does that mean Briseis will be here?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Plunder and slaves are presented to Agamemnon for even distribution, which usually means he gets to pick the best for himself, regardless of who fought for it. That’s why I kept your presence quiet. But if the King of Men has got any sense he’ll leave Briseis to Achilles. She’s won his heart, from all accounts, and there’ll be trouble if he’s forced to part with her.’

‘Poor Briseis,’ Astynome sighed.

The sun was just peeping over the ridge to the east as Eperitus pushed aside the curtain and stepped out. The smell of woodsmoke was already in the air as a few men belatedly warmed water and prepared breakfast. Most of their comrades had already washed and eaten, though, and were streaming down to the beach to see the plunder that had been brought back from Lyrnessus. Odysseus, standing with his arms crossed as he stared in the direction of the sea – hidden behind the forest of tents – turned and greeted his captain with a smile.

‘She’s a beautiful girl,’ he said, nodding towards the hut. ‘The gods still hold you in their favour, Eperitus.’

‘She hates the Greeks,’ Eperitus replied.

‘Ah, but I think she has a strong affection for you.’

Eperitus snorted derisively to disguise his sudden interest, then placed his hand on Odysseus’s shoulder and led him away from the hut.

‘And why would you think that?’

‘Because of the look she gave you when I entered. Before she even thought to cover her nakedness she glanced at you, and that’s when I saw something in her eyes. I can’t say
what
, but I know that look. Now, let’s get to the beach.’

They joined the flow of hundreds of men, heading towards the southern end of the bay. This was where Achilles’s ships were beached, and it was here that the plunder from Lyrnessus, Adramyttium and Thebe was being gathered. The conversation on every side was focused solely on the amount of gold the expedition had looted, and the rapidly spread rumour that there would be a share for every man in the camp. Eperitus gave the matter no thought; he cared little for wealth and his mind was occupied with thoughts of Astynome and what Odysseus had said about her. And then he saw the gargantuan figure of Great Ajax striding head and shoulders above the crowd before them and his mind returned to the words of Calchas the night before. He saw that Odysseus’s eyes were also fixed on the king of Salamis.

‘What do you think Calchas meant last night?’ he asked. ‘About Ajax, I mean.’

Odysseus shrugged. ‘Everyone knows Ajax has little respect for the gods, though why he would want Achilles’s armour is beyond me. I was more interested in Palamedes.’

‘He could have been lying.’

‘Why would he lie?’ Odysseus frowned. ‘He’s a drunken fool, but he’s not a liar.’

‘But what if
Calchas
is the traitor? Have you considered that? He’s a Trojan, after all, and he’s in Agamemnon’s confidence. Didn’t he say last night that he regretted leaving Troy? Perhaps he told you it was Palamedes to throw you off his own trail.’

‘That could be true,’ Odysseus replied, still watching the towering form of Ajax ahead of them. ‘And you forgot to say that Calchas can enter or leave the camp whenever he pleases. The only other man who can do that is Palamedes.’

‘Any commander can leave the camp,’ Eperitus countered. ‘You could, if you wished, and at any time you felt like it.’

‘Not without the fact being reported to Agamemnon, Menelaus and Nestor. They keep a tight watch on this camp, whether you know it or not, Eperitus. Any commander crossing the ditch at night without good reason would be reported to them. But Palamedes was the one who thought up the system of sentries and patrols that defend the camp from Trojan raiders. And he regularly goes out to check on the patrols at night – a perfect cover for meeting Trojans and passing on our plans. That’s one of the reasons why I suspected him in the first place.’

‘And Calchas?’ Eperitus asked.

But Odysseus simply smiled and shook his head. ‘Palamedes is the one, and I’ll prove it to you before the night is out.’

They had come to the beach, and though they could see the masts of the newly landed ships above the heads of the multitude of onlookers (all the other galleys had had theirs removed and stowed), they could see nothing of Achilles or the treasures that had been plundered during the expedition.

‘Make way,’ Eperitus ordered.

He pushed at the backs of the men in front, who turned – some angrily – but were quick to step aside at the sight of the Ithacan commanders. Beyond them were a line of Myrmidon warriors, fully armoured and cloaked in black, facing the crowds with their spears across their bodies.

‘Let them through,’ said a deep voice as two of the guards moved towards Eperitus and Odysseus with their weapons raised.

Not waiting for his command to be obeyed, a large, broad-chested man with a wild black beard thrust the two soldiers aside and stepped forward to embrace the Ithacans.

‘The plunder has arrived safely, my friends,’ he announced after releasing them from his bear-like hug, ‘and that means wine and whores aplenty by sundown, if you care to join us.’

‘I’ll take the wine,’ Odysseus replied, ‘but you can keep the whores, Peisandros.’

‘Still holding out for Penelope, I see,’ Peisandros said with a shake of his head. ‘Ah well, more for the rest of us, eh, Eperitus?’

‘I have my own arrangements,’ Eperitus replied. ‘But tell me, how much did we take in the end? It looks like a lot.’

He pointed towards the wide beach where at least three score heavy wooden caskets had been unloaded so far, with still more being lowered from the sides of the black-hulled galleys.

‘Oh, there’s enough to go around,’ Peisandros grinned, ‘and there are prisoners to be ransomed, too, not to mention a haul of slaves that would be worth a lot back home.’

He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, indicating a large crowd of frightened-looking women and children, standing at the water’s edge and staring wide-eyed at the thousands of men gathering along the top of the beach. Eperitus saw the tall and attractive figure of Briseis among them, her chin held high despite the broken look on her face. Achilles was nearby, talking animatedly to Great Ajax, who had already crossed the sand to greet his cousin. Antilochus watched the two men with undisguised admiration, while Patroclus, as aloof as ever, stood to one side with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

‘The question is,’ Peisandros continued, ‘whether our illustrious King of Men will share the spoils equally.’

‘Where is Agamemnon?’ Eperitus asked.

‘He won’t be here yet,’ Odysseus answered. ‘He doesn’t think it fitting to his rank that he should come to the victors first; they have to go to him and invite him to inspect the spoils. And here comes his messenger now.’

Palamedes had elbowed his way to the front of the crowd, several of whom cursed him and pushed him angrily out towards the line of Myrmidon guards, laughing as he fell on his stomach in the sand. Two of the Myrmidons approached and hauled him to his feet.

‘Get your hands off me!’ he snapped in a shrill, whining voice, waving them away as if they were mosquitoes.

Palamedes was a short, black-haired man with a wispy beard and a pointed face. His eyes were narrow and clever, always darting about watchfully, and his thin nose and lipless mouth gave him a hateful look that won him no friends. Though he always wore armour, as if to remind others that he was a warrior, he had neither the physique nor the bearing of a fighting man. His value was in the power of his shrewd brain.

‘Ah, Palamedes,’ Odysseus greeted him, standing in front of the Nauplian prince and planting his fists on his hips. He did not bother to hide the contempt in his face. ‘Come to admire the spoils of our victories?’

‘I shouldn’t get too fat-headed about it, Odysseus,’ Palamedes retorted. ‘For a man who failed to bring even a few bags of grain back from Thrace, I doubt very much you were able to plunder more than a handful of wooden bowls from your little play-battles at Lyrnessus and beyond.’

Odysseus’s eyes narrowed slightly.

‘Play-battles, you say? You should be careful: my friends here and I could have taken offence. But as you wouldn’t know what a
real
battle was anyway, Palamedes, we’ll forget you opened your sneering mouth.’

‘Good. Now, why don’t you run off and sulk about your wife and son and let
me
go about the king’s business. Oh, I hear you’ve had news from Ithaca – how
is
little Telemachus?’

Odysseus snatched hold of Palamedes’s cloak and drew back his fist, but before he could drive it into the Nauplian’s face, Eperitus caught hold of his arm and pulled him away. Palamedes fell back on to the sand in terror.

‘Odysseus!’ Eperitus hissed. ‘If it’s come to this, at least find a place where there aren’t hundreds of witnesses.’

‘You’ll apologize for that!’ Odysseus spat, glaring at Palamedes.

‘You’ll have no apology from me!’ Palamedes returned, staring back. ‘And unless you let me take my message to Achilles, then you’ll have the King of Men to answer to.’

‘Don’t overestimate your influence with Agamemnon,’ Odysseus returned. ‘Your days as his messenger boy are numbered. Calchas has seen to that.’

‘Calchas? What are you talking about?’

Odysseus slipped free of Eperitus’s grip and dropped to one knee beside Palamedes, who shrank back into the soft sand.

‘You haven’t heard his latest vision?’ he whispered, his voice too low for anyone other than Palamedes and Eperitus to hear. ‘Calchas told Agamemnon
you
aren’t to be trusted, that you’ll bring doom to the Greeks. I don’t know what he means, but you can be sure Agamemnon won’t be taking you into his confidence any more.’

Palamedes’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘That’s nonsense. Agamemnon trusts me completely.’

‘Oh really? Then you’ll know Great Ajax and Menestheus are to launch a surprise attack against the city of Dardanus, three days from now. I thought not. Well, Agamemnon still trusts me,’ Odysseus added, lowering his face to Palamedes’s and taking a fistful of his tunic, ‘so keep
that
bit of information to yourself, or it’ll mean trouble for the both of us.’

He stood and took Palamedes by the hand, pulling him to his feet. The Nauplian, his brow furrowed in thought, stared hard at him for a moment, then turned and marched across the beach in the direction of Achilles. Many of the men who had witnessed the argument jeered him as he left, while others cheered Odysseus and shouted his name.

‘What was all that about?’ Eperitus asked in a low voice. ‘You’ve not mentioned any attack on Dardanus before.’

Odysseus raised his eyebrows and smiled brightly.

That’s because there isn’t one. And now the bait’s been set, we’ll have to see if our little fish takes it.’

Six men sat cloaked and hooded around a small campfire. There was little conversation between them as they stared at the mean flames, sputtering and hissing beneath the fine drizzle that fell from the ceiling of cloud above. Beyond the deep ditch that defended the Greek camp, two more guards stood with their shields slung across their backs and their spears sloped over their shoulders, staring out into the darkness of the plain for signs of life. There were none, of course – the Trojans hardly ever ventured beyond the safety of their walls at night – and thankfully the drunken priest, Calchas, had kept his peace, subdued by the light rain that had rolled in from the Aegean during the early evening. The clouds that had transported it now blocked out the light of the early moon and left the landscape black and featureless, while in the camp behind them the same rain had dampened the drinking and whoring of the army.

A dislodged rock and a quiet curse announced the approach of someone from the camp. Some of the men around the fire turned and raised their hoods a little to stare at the newcomer, while the two guards on the other side of the ditch crossed the narrow causeway that they were guarding and held their spears at the ready.

‘Who’s that?’ demanded one of the men, knowing full well who the cloaked figure that walked towards them was.

‘It’s me,’ said Palamedes, tipping his hood back just enough to reveal his face. ‘Have the patrols gone out for the night?’

‘Yes, sir. They’ll be following the routes you set for them. You’re checking them a little earlier than usual, though, if I might say so.’

‘No, you may not,’ Palamedes replied haughtily, clearly annoyed at the guard’s familiar tone. ‘It’s my prerogative to inspect the patrols whenever I feel like it, or how else will they remain watchful and alert?’

He turned his eyes on the men around the fire, who looked down into the flames. Then he threw his hood forward again and marched across the causeway. The two guards followed him to the other side and watched his black cloak into the distance. When it could no longer be distinguished among the rocks and trees of the plain, one of them gave a low whistle and beckoned to the others around the fire. At once, two men rose and ran to join them.

‘He went that way,’ said the guard, a tall, sinewy soldier with steely eyes and a Spartan accent. ‘You’ll have to be quick not to lose him in this darkness.’