Fall of Kings (21 page)

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.