Читать книгу The Windswept City - Henry Treece - Страница 5

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Asterius, the slave boy, crouched under the thick laurel bush and shivered. The sea lay before him and the gurgling river Scamander to his left. It was a very cold night with a bright round white moon above him, staring down, watching him. The goddess Artemis was in that moon with her bow and arrows, perhaps being cross with him for coming down from Troy to watch the Greeks. An owl fluttered by the laurel on slow wings, almost flapping into his face. He drew back and shut his eyes. He felt sure that the owl was Hera, the oldest goddess, come to spy on him and give him away to the terrible Greeks.

He said a prayer: “O Hera, forgive me. I am not really a Trojan spy. My name is Asterius and I only live in Troy because my mistress, the lady Helen, lives there too. I was born in Thrace, not Troy, goddess. I only came down to see what Greeks were like. Forgive me.”

The owl gave a loud squawk and fluttered away. Asterius opened his dark eyes and wrapped his blue cloak around him because the chilly wind from the sea was blowing up again. He did not really expect that the owl would forgive him, if it was Hera, because she was the goddess who looked after Greeks. So he shut his eyes again and said another prayer: “O Aphrodite, O Apollo, O Artemis, protect me, please. I think that the old witch Hera is after me. If you let me get back safely up the secret water pipe, tomorrow I will leave my best bronze knife at the shrine for you. I swear it.”

When he had said this and opened his eyes again, he began to shake worse than ever, because just two paces away in the moonlight, with his back toward the bush, stood a man. At first Asterius thought it must be the king of all gods, Zeus himself, come to fetch him for not offering the bronze knife to him. Then in the moonlight he saw that the man wore a leather helmet with boar’s tusks sticking up from either side, and a ragged leather tunic that rustled when he moved his thick body. There was a broad-bladed bronze sword hanging down at the back of his belt, swinging from side to side. When the man turned, Asterius saw that he carried a long shield covered with oxhide on his left arm. So this wasn’t Zeus. Zeus would have been clothed in gold, and he would be much taller and handsomer than this squat man with rough black beard all over his cheeks and throat.

Suddenly the man turned and seemed to look right into the bush where he lay crouched. His eyes were wide and staring and the shadows thrown down by the moon made him look like a fierce animal. For a moment Asterius thought the man was going to pull the sword out of his belt and poke into the bush, but then he turned away and went slowly down the stony slope toward the Greek camp.

Asterius watched him and saw the cluster of windblown hide tents that flapped in the sea breeze; and beyond that he saw the tall oak stockade, behind which the Greek ships were drawn up. It was like a city in itself, all the black-painted ships lying side by side, like houses along streets. Here and there stood mounds of earth where the Greeks had buried their chiefs after the fighting along the shore. Seabirds were swooping over the mounds, crying out, and Asterius thought that these were the chiefs come back to keep an eye on things.

He thought he would creep through the bush as soon as he could and run all the three miles back to Troy. But suddenly the man in the boar helmet turned back toward him and whistled with his thick fingers in his mouth, and out of the shadows by the nearest mound two slaves came running, carrying a heavy clinking sack.

The man in the helmet said hoarsely, “Quick, you fools, or Palamedes will be back from hunting. If he catches you at it, don’t expect me to stand up for you. Throw the bag of gold into his tent and be off with you now.”

One of the slaves said humbly, “Yes, great Odysseus, we will be quick. Do not forget the reward you promised us, King of Ithaca.”

Asterius clenched his fists tight, drawing himself in as small as he could with fear, to think that the savage sea-rover Odysseus had stood so close to him. This was the craftiest man in the world, the Trojans said, and one of the fiercest. Few dared stand against him in battle—and he had been only two paces away from the bush.

Asterius wondered whether he ought to offer his necklace of blue beads to Zeus, on condition that the god got him safely back into the city. They were such pretty beads and had come from Egypt in the ship of an old Phoenician who often brought beautiful things for the lady Helen. When she gave the beads to Asterius she said, “Now that you are eleven, you are old enough to wear something valuable. I have owned you nearly a year, so you deserve a present. Take care of these beads; they cost me three sheep. When you wear them, the Trojans will know them.”

He was still thinking about this when a horn sounded beyond the stockade, and three men came riding up on shaggy ponies, their leather cloaks flapping, long boar spears in their hands. The leader was a tall young man with fair hair and a faded pointed blue cap on his head. Behind the riders ran six slaves, holding in great hounds on leashes. One of the riders called out to the leader, “Hey, Palamedes, have you no wine to offer us after our long ride?”

The man in the blue cap laughed and said, “Come into my tent, friends, and you shall quench your thirst. I got a shipload of wine from Crete only three days ago. The word must have gone around, you cunning rogues!”

The three Greeks went laughing into the hide tent, and after a short while Asterius saw a torch flare up inside, and then heard the men laughing again. They sounded so merry he wished he could be with them to hear what they were saying.

Then all at once, from behind the other tents, Odysseus came striding and waving his arms. Following him came a score of lords and warriors, carrying shields and long spears. Odysseus was shouting at the top of his voice, “I tell you, Palamedes is a traitor. He has received gold from the Trojans. He has promised to betray us to them. Go, search his tent if you do not believe me. When have I ever lied to you, Agamemnon? Did you ever know me to lie, Menelaus?”

Asterius could not see Agamemnon and Menelaus. He had often heard people talking about them in Troy, whispering their names as though they were too fearsome to speak aloud—and now he could not see them. He could not go back to Troy and tell the other boy slaves he had seen the King of Mycenae and his brother, the King of Sparta. He almost wept with disappointment.

Then something happened that drove these thoughts away. Palamedes was standing in the doorway of the hide tent, a wine cup in his right hand. He was laughing and saying, “Come in, my lords, and share the wine. This is a surprise visit. I thought you were down the coast, foraging among the shore villages. And you, old Odysseus, what brings you out on such a raw night? I thought you would be in your tent, playing dice with your thin-lipped friend, Achilles. Have you still got the ivory dice I made for you, Crafty One?”

Odysseus gave a roar like a lion and suddenly clasped the arms of Palamedes to his side. “Search his tent, Agamemnon,” he bawled. “Search the traitor’s tent.”

Four of the soldiers pushed through the flap, bending low because of the high crests on their bronze helmets, and went inside. Palamedes was still laughing and joking when they came out again, carrying a heavy bag. When he saw the bag, Palamedes stopped laughing and said, “Is this some trick, Agamemnon? That is not my bag. I have never seen it before.”

Asterius heard a deep voice say, “No, it is not your bag, Palamedes. The stitching around its edge is Trojan work. And the gold inside it is Trojan gold. Odysseus is right, you are a traitor.”

Then there was a lot of scuffling and shouting, and a cloud passed over the moon for a moment. When the light shone clear again, Asterius saw that Palamedes was lying on the dusty ground outside his tent, and the soldiers were striking down with their spears and throwing heavy stones at him.

Asterius wanted to jump up and run to them and tell them that Odysseus had put the gold in the tent; but suddenly he knew that he was too frightened to go toward those fierce soldiers, who seemed more like wild beasts than men. He covered his eyes with his hands and tried to keep quiet. And when all was very still again, he looked out of the bush and saw that the men had gone away. Palamedes still lay there, with heaps of stones about him. He did not move. Only his leather cloak flapped in the sea wind.

Asterius backed through the bush, and when he was in its shadow, turned and ran like a rabbit toward the hill on which stood the city of Troy. He half expected arrows to come whistling after him, but nothing happened. He was breathless with fear and running when he reached the base of the hill and clambered over the great stones that led up to the lower wall. He had to sit down for a while to get his breath back before he dared push through the bushes and find the secret water pipe that he would have to crawl through to get into the city.

The great Scaean Gates were always barred at nightfall, and even if they weren’t, Asterius would not have dared knock on them and face the guard. King Priam had recently brought in some Ethiopians from farther away than Egypt even, and Asterius was afraid of their solemn black faces that looked like carved ebony. He would not dare to face them in daytime, much less at night, though they were supposed to be on Troy’s side.

So he wormed his way through the wild lavender and the scrubby gorse, and at last he found the pipe. Not much water flowed down it, but it was very cold inside the stone runnel. He scraped his knuckles and knees climbing up to street level.

No one was about in the mazelike streets, so he jumped down and ran as fast as he could to the palace of Priam. He felt that his mistress, Helen, ought to be told about the murder of Palamedes. He felt he had to tell somebody, because it was so terrible to see a man murdered, even a Greek.