The Bow Read online

  “That’s why it’s so precious, don’t you see?” Odysseus shivered as he laid the bow and final arrow against the stalagmite. The gift would only mean anything to Demeter if it was almost too hard to part with. “Dread goddess,” he prayed. “Deliver us from our enemies and bring us to safety.”

  “Watch, now,” said Skotia. “If she’s pleased with the bow, she’ll give us a sign.”

  Away in a side tunnel, water plinked on rock. Eurybates shuffled his feet and Skotia put out a hand in warning. The lamp flickered and dimmed.

  Had the oil run out? Odysseus bent down to peer into the little clay pot. It was too dark to see, so he dipped a finger in. No, there was still plenty there. But the flame had diminished to a tiny globe of light.

  The base of the stalagmite was barely visible now in the gloom. His blood hissed in his ears. What would happen if the lamp went out? What if it wouldn’t light again? Why would Demeter want to help them anyway? Their escape, the gold, the war – none of it was any business of hers.

  Without warning, the flame flared up. He pulled back, the smell of singed hair sharp in his nostrils.

  Skotia laughed under her breath. “Fool,” she said. “Sticking your nose into the goddess’s business.”

  “But what does it mean?”

  “We can go on.”

  “You’re sure?” said Eurybates.

  “Any better suggestions?” Skotia thrust her face up close to Eurybates’s, standing on tiptoe the better to eyeball him. “Maybe you’d rather go back and have a nice chat with those soldiers?”

  Not far beyond the altar, a massive rockfall led up into a chamber sheeted in white stalactites. Another time Odysseus would have stopped to look around, but Skotia seemed driven and he had to hurry after her before the dark caught up with him. Another low tunnel, another cavern, and then the roof plunged down almost to the rock floor, leaving a flat black slit like the eye of a snake. Through it a fierce wind was blowing, slicing at their faces with icy fingers.

  “The breath of Hades,” whispered Skotia. Her hand glowed red around the lamp flame as she sheltered it from the wind. “There’s a big cavern on the other side of that crack – Aunt Danae says it goes down to Lake Akheron.” She bit her lower lip, perhaps to stop it trembling. “If we make it through, we’ll start climbing again towards the way out.”

  “Will the lamp stay alight?” said Odysseus.

  “No.” She gave his shocked face a crooked grin. “This is where we light the torch.”

  “What if it goes out too?” To leave them caught in that black fissure, with all the horrors of the underworld at the other end?

  “That’s what the rope’s for, so you can feel your way along.” She handed the lamp over and tied the rope round her waist.

  There was nothing for it. Odysseus lit the torch and gave it to her. “Won’t it burn you?”

  “Not if I hold it behind me.” She took it from him and wriggled into the crack. The torch flame licked round the lip of the rock as she disappeared, the rope trailing after her.

  Suddenly, the torch glow disappeared. A dense cloud rolled out of the crevice towards them, filled with gibbering cries.

  “Ghosts,” screamed Eurybates. He turned to run, caught his foot on a boulder and fell flat on his face. Odysseus groped over to him with the lamp and they clung together as black forms bombarded them from all sides.

  “We’re done for,” Eurybates sobbed. “That bitch of a girl. She’s led us to our deaths.”

  In the guttering lamplight Odysseus could see tiny creatures hurtling about. “Bats,” he cried.

  “Bats?” Eurybates lifted his head, his face covered in dirt.

  A fierce blast of wind blew the lamp out. Odysseus swallowed hard. He had to keep his courage up, poor thin thread that it was. “Only bats,” he replied. “Skotia’s fine. I can see the glow of the torch. Now she’s tugging the rope. I think she wants us to come through.”

  “I’ll go first if you like.”

  “No, I think I should.”

  Eurybates agreed, a little too quickly perhaps. But at least he’d offered.

  There was nothing for it but to start edging along the rope. The freezing wind howled through the crevice like a barrage of icy spears. Twice the low roof almost blocked their way and Odysseus had to scrabble sideways on his stomach, his head twisted round onto his ear. He couldn’t, he mustn’t get stuck again, in this frightful place.

  He emerged from the crack close to the mouth of a massive tunnel that plunged down into blackness. Thousands of bats were swirling about in the icy gale that gusted from its depths, shrilling and squealing as their shadows leaped and dodged across the rock walls. Odysseus stared, his horror mixed with a strange fascination. He took a few tentative steps down the steepening slope, drawn by some force he couldn’t explain.

  “Olli! No!” There was a clatter of stones behind him and Eurybates grabbed his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  What indeed? Odysseus tried to gather his wits. Of course he mustn’t go any further – only the dead went down to Akheron. And yet … perhaps, like Orpheus, he might visit it alive and survive to tell the tale? But Eurybates was hauling him back, almost crying with fear, towards the glow of torchlight.

  Skotia was crouched under a high bank with the torch wedged between two rocks beside her. She tossed the rope to Eurybates and seized the torch. “Quick,” she whispered, her voice urgent. “We can’t stop here.”

  Forcing his frozen limbs to work, Odysseus scrambled after her, up the bank and into a large cavern cluttered with massive boulders. He stumbled onwards, fear like a cracking whip behind him. What had possessed him at the tunnel mouth? Another few paces and he would have lost his footing and fallen … fallen forever.

  Once they were safely past the boulders, Skotia stopped again. Odysseus could just make out a row of tunnels at the far end of the cavern.

  “We should be safe here, Demeter be praised,” Skotia said, her breath steaming in the chill air. A black shape flashed past her shoulder and she flinched. “Bats again. But they won’t hurt us.”

  Odysseus noticed she was shaking as she helped him light the lamp. He longed to put an arm around her, just to comfort her of course, but both his hands were full, oil flask in one and torch in the other.

  “How close are we to the way out?” asked Eurybates.

  “Not far,” she answered.

  “I can’t wait to be out of here.”

  Time to take charge again. “We need to stay down here as long as we can,” Odysseus said.

  “That’s ridiculous,” exclaimed Eurybates. “We’ve lost so much time already, Olli.” The shifting shadows from the lamp highlighted the tension in his face.

  “I know, I know,” Odysseus replied. “But wasn’t it you who said dead men can’t walk? The soldiers will be searching for us. The longer we hide, the more chance they’ll give up.”

  “I suppose so.” Eurybates dumped the sack down, biting his lips in frustration. “We’ll need to ration the food then.”

  “How much water do we have?”

  Eurybates hauled the waterskins out of the sack. “Not much.”

  “There’s plenty here,” said Skotia.

  She led them to a hole in the rock floor and Odysseus squatted down. The water lay close below the rim, cold but delicious. “If we tighten our belts,” he said, “we can last for days.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Eurybates peered up the crevice towards the surface, his face pale in the grey evening light. “Are you ready?” he asked Odysseus.

  “Yes.” Odysseus checked the rope around his waist. If Skotia was right, there was a good anchor point he could tie the rope onto at the top, so he could safeguard the others as they climbed.

  They’d spent three days hiding in the cave, eking out their meagre food supply. Now he was so hungry he couldn’t tell if he was afraid or not. His own impatience at the delay, coupled with Eury’s barely concealed irritation, wasn’t helping.

&nb
sp; He clambered onto Eurybates’s shoulders, found the handholds he needed and hoisted himself up far enough to bridge his feet against the side walls, dislodging a shower of lichen as he worked his way up.

  A soft breeze bathed his face as he reached the top, and he paused, momentarily seduced by its warmth. No, he had to concentrate. Where was he? Were there any soldiers around?

  He’d come out in a small hollow, dense with oleander bushes, tucked into a forested hillside. To his right a glimpse of a high ridge, silhouetted by a red sunset, told him he was facing south. The slope in front must lead down into the next valley, which meant the plain was off to his left. All around the hollow, the pines were gathering the evening gloom into their branches. He listened. Nothing but the wind through the treetops.

  “Are you all right?” called Eurybates.

  “Yes. All’s clear.”

  Here was Skotia’s anchor point – a young holm oak. Odysseus heaved himself out of the crevice, gave the oak a good tug to make sure it was well-rooted, and knotted one end of the rope round the base of its trunk before dropping the other down the hole.

  The rope strained tight as he hauled, with Skotia gasping and scrabbling at the other end. He pulled her clear before throwing the rope down again.

  Up it came once more, with the gear tied on and with Eurybates close behind – too proud to use it when Odysseus had managed without.

  Odysseus went over their plans in his head as he and Eurybates struggled back into the jerkins. Skotia had explained that they had to cross the valley to their south to gain the main range. From there it was only a day’s journey over the mountains to her aunt’s village. Aunt Danae, she said, might even spare them some food. They’d certainly need it, assuming they hadn’t dropped from starvation before then.

  “Shall we take this?” said Eurybates, fingering the rope. “It might come in handy.”

  “No,” said Skotia. “It belongs to the cave.”

  They crept round the hill as night fell, their passage lit by a quarter moon. The next valley seemed empty of men or beasts, but they waited for a passing cloud to dull what light there was before slinking across and into the thick forest on the far side.

  It seemed to Odysseus that the gold was heavier than ever as he trudged slowly up the mountainside, sweat pouring down his face and dripping off his chin. Back in the freezing cold of the cave, he had longed for heat, but not like this. Eurybates was faring no better, judging from the harsh rasp of his breath.

  As the moon sank, the forest thinned, and he guessed they were nearing the open tops. When it became too dark to see any further they stopped by a large boulder, drank a little water, and lay down to rest, keeping watch in turns.

  By noon the next day they’d reached the southern crest of the range. Below them lay a hamlet with a blur of fields around it, tucked into a fold of the hills.

  “That’s Aunt Danae’s village,” Skotia said, relief clear in her voice. “You stay here. I’ll bring back what food I can.”

  “And if you meet any soldiers?” said Odysseus.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “As fine as you were in that hut near Tiryns?”

  “Stop bickering,” Eurybates interrupted. “Olli, you go with her. I’ll guard our gear.”

  Without the gold, Odysseus felt every step he took would float him off the ground. At the base of the ridge they found a path, which led them to the edge of a small field. From there they could see a vegetable garden and the shingled roof of a cottage.

  “I’m going on alone,” Skotia whispered.

  Odysseus grabbed her wrist. “Don’t be stupid.”

  Skotia pulled a face. “You’re the stupid one. Aunt Danae probably thinks I’m dead. Having you with me is only going to make it harder.”

  Odysseus settled himself against a tree, hidden from sight by the bushes close to the path. Sweat trickled down under his tunic. After what seemed like half a day, he glanced up to find the sun had hardly moved. He rubbed his face with clammy hands – he had to keep his eyes open.

  Suddenly, someone grabbed his shoulder. He lurched sideways, his hand groping for his knife.

  “You were asleep!” said Skotia in his ear. “What if one of those soldiers had come along?”

  He sat up, feeling foolish. “Was your aunt there?”

  Skotia nodded, her eyes shining. She slid a canvas bag off her shoulder and squatted next to him. “She’s given you this.” She spread the mouth of the bag wide and pulled out cheese and bread. “There’s fresh pears too. And dried apricots and figs and nuts, enough for four or five days.”

  “Was she happy to see you?”

  “She cried and cried.”

  “Did you ask her which way we should go?”

  “Of course.” Skotia drew in the dust with a stick. “There’s a big gorge you need to stay clear of. Then, once you’re out of the mountains, you head south across a plain to a low pass. It’ll take you west, to Messenia.”

  “Thanks.” Odysseus looked down at the squiggles and back at this lovely girl he would never see again. Would she be safe here with that mysterious aunt? “What’s Danae like?” he said, envy pricking at him.

  “Thin and brown. Like me.”

  “Is she as beautiful?”

  Skotia flushed. “Stop making fun of me!”

  He stared at her – those large, oval eyes with their long lashes; her smooth olive skin; the way her upper lip crested below her nostrils; the fine bones of her chin, now tipped up in anger. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?”

  Odysseus felt his face go hot. “How beautiful you are.”

  “I’m not! I’m skinny and flat-chested and my skin’s too brown and–”

  “Not everyone likes white-faced girls with breasts like cows’ udders.”

  “So why do rich men have them painted all over their walls?”

  He shrugged. “It’s the fashion. Though not for everyone.” She’d turned away from him, her arms wrapped round her chest. “Didn’t you notice the way men looked at you, back in Tiryns?” he said. He’d wanted to pummel their noses into the backs of their heads.

  She twisted her head round, her eyes like darts. “Pig’s bits!”

  “That porter was the worst. Meskes.”

  “Meskes?” Skotia’s hands fluttered to her mouth. “Oh gods!” she whispered. “I’ve been such a fool!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, Meskes … it was Meskes who sent me to the clean the latrines.”

  “You said it was Diomedes.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t see Diomedes. I assumed it was his orders. But …” She bit her lip. “You did such a good job telling everyone we were lovers, Meskes must’ve thought we were.”

  “So he was jealous?”

  “Jealous? I suppose. He was always looking at me in that horrible way but I just thought that’s how he treated all the slave girls. Maybe he did want me more than he wanted the others.” She shuddered. “So he decided to have his revenge. I wouldn’t call it jealousy though.”

  “Perhaps he thought you’d be more vulnerable if he could get you away from the palace kitchen. And he could have you for himself, afterwards. What was left of you.”

  Skotia’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “Sorry? Why?”

  “I’ve still been thinking it was your fault.”

  “Look, I told you, back at that shepherd’s hut–”

  “I know.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I’d begun to believe you. Honest.” She gripped his knee. “And I do believe you now.”

  The blood pounded in his temples. “That’s a relief,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

  Skotia looked at him hard. Then she leaned forwards and kissed him gently on the lips. He reached out to graze the backs of his fingers across the soft skin under her ear, leaning forwards to prolong the moment even as she pulled back.

  Chapter Thirty-one

>   “I love you,” he whispered, the revelation shocking him. He tried to catch her hands. “Come with me to Ithaka.”

  She pushed him away. “And be your whore?” she said.

  Her contempt hit him like a blow to the face. “If that’s what you think,” he said, “you’re a …” No, calling her a fool wasn’t going to work. He took a deep breath. “You’d come as my friend. You’d never be poor again, or bullied, or betrayed.”

  She bit her lips, frowning. Was she really thinking about it? Just as his hopes were rising, she shook her head. “Arkadia is where I belong. It’s my home. Can’t you see that?”

  “Arkadia hasn’t treated you well.”

  “My mother didn’t treat me well,” she spat back. “I hope she’s dead.”

  Odysseus hesitated. What he wanted to say next might make her angrier still, but then, it might help. Loosen her hatred, make room for other feelings. “The lamp – it wasn’t lit by your father,” he said cautiously. “He must have been dead and buried when the others left.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Perhaps your mother lit it.”

  “Never! She sold me–”

  “Maybe she sold you to save your life.”

  “To save herself.”

  “Skotia, think. She was pregnant, your father was dying, she had six children to feed. As a slave, you had a chance of surviving. Do you imagine any of them are still alive?”

  Skotia pulled the little lamp out from the folds of her dress. For a heartbeat he thought she was going to throw it away. But then she started to cry, her fist jammed against her mouth.

  He waited till she was quiet again. “You could come to love me,” he said.

  She laughed through her tears. “Surely. And you’d enjoy me – for a bit. Till your parents found you a bride. A nice girl, highborn. And then, if I’d behaved myself properly, I could be her servant and help ready her to lie in your bed every night. Why would I want that?”

  There wasn’t an answer, not one he could think of.

  “I’ve got my freedom back,” she flung at him. “Why throw it away?”

  “You’d be free on Ithaka. My equal.”