David Gemmell - Lord of the Silver Bow

Rising agonizingly to the surface, his body awash with pain, his lungs on fire, Odysseus pretended to flounder, splashing his arms at the water. Glancing up he saw the youngster standing high above him. He felt foolish now. There was no way a frightened boy could make that leap, and Odysseus felt he had only made matters worse for the lad. However, he had told him he could not swim, and now felt obliged to continue the charade for a little while. Letting out his breath Odysseus sank below the surface, holding out for as long as he could. Then he came up, took several breaths – still splashing like a drowning man – and sank again. As he surfaced he looked up one last time.

And saw the sleek form of Aeneas high in the air above him, arms stretched out, his body framed against the brilliant blue of the sky. The dive was beautiful to behold – and Odysseus almost forgot his pretence. As Aeneas surfaced and swam towards him Odysseus went down again. This time a strong young arm grasped his wrist, hauling him up.

‘Take a deep breath,’ ordered the youngster, then dragged him back towards the Penelope. Ropes were thrown down and the two climbed on board.

Standing dripping on the deck, puffing and blowing, Odysseus looked round at his amused crew.

‘This is Helikaon, lads,’ he cried, gesturing at the youth. ‘He is a prince of Dardania. He saved my life!’

The first mate, Bias – a heavily scarred, dark-skinned man with grizzled hair –

clapped Helikaon on the back. ‘I saw the dive. It was incredible. Well done, lad.’

Odysseus walked over to Helikaon, throwing a brawny arm round his shoulder. Then he leaned in. ‘How did it feel to make that dive?’

‘I feel…’ Helikaon struggled for words. ‘I don’t know how I feel.’

‘Exultant?’ offered Odysseus.

‘Yes, that is it. Exactly.’

‘You scattered your enemies, Helikaon. I cannot tell you how proud I am of you.

You found the path to the hero. You will never lose it again.’ Swinging towards the crew he called out, ‘Oarsmen to your places, and ready the sail. The Great Green awaits.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Helikaon.

‘Ah, lad, did I not tell you? Your father thought a sea voyage would be good for you. So now you are a member of my crew. I think you will enjoy it.’

Alone now on the beach Odysseus smiled at the memory. He saw Helikaon rise to his feet and look around. Odysseus waved, and the Golden One walked over to him.

‘Planning your next outrageous adventure?’ Helikaon asked.

Odysseus grinned. ‘I was remembering the day I watched a young prince fly like an eagle over the sea.’

Xander felt like one of the heroes of legend, the men grandfather spoke of round the night fire before he and his sisters fell asleep. He had crossed the world to a foreign land, a place of enchantment and mystery, where there were different stars shining. And he had met the legendary Odysseus. It was like a wonderful dream.

All along the Bay of the Blue Owls Xander could see handcarts, full of dried driftwood, being hauled onto the beach. There was the smell of roasting meats, and the music of lyres and pipes could be heard round many of the fires. He saw the black-bearded Gyppto, Gershom, move away from the Xanthos men, and sit down with his back to a rock. He had an old piece of cloth round his shoulders, and he was shivering. Xander ran to him. ‘Can I fetch you something?’

Gershom smiled. ‘More water would be good. My throat feels as if I have swallowed a desert.’ Xander moved off, and returned with a water skin. Gershom drank sparingly. Then he lay back on the sand and fell asleep.

Xander sat alongside him for a while as the night wore on. He stared up at the bright stars. He couldn’t actually tell if they were different or not, but guessed they must be. When Gershom started to snore Xander rose from the sand and began to explore. Along the shoreline there were scores of stalls and carts, full of merchandise: jewellery, clothing, pots, jugs, protective amulets, and weapons. Elsewhere there were traders who had set out items on blankets in the sand. There were soothsayers and seers, astrologers and mystics, reading fortunes and making predictions. Everywhere Xander looked there was something exciting to see. He moved through the throng, wide-eyed and full of wonder.

He gazed for a while at a display of dazzling jewellery, earrings, bracelets and copper rings inset with coloured stones. On the next stall were pots and cups, but these were of poor quality. Not nearly as good as those mother made. He pointed this out to the stallholder, an angry little man who swore at him.

Xander danced away as the man threatened to cuff him. He was not frightened.

Xander was a hero who had braved a storm, and felt no fear of a pottery man.

He paused at a clothing stall. It was a jumble of sandals, cloaks, and thigh-length chiton tunics of hard-wearing linen. Hanging lanterns illuminated the wares. Xander reached out and lifted a small sandal. ‘Five copper rings they should go for,’ said a round-faced woman, with missing front teeth. ‘Yet I am feeling generosity tonight, for those who passed through the storm. So I thought four rings? However, I see how you look at them, little sailor, and it warms my heart. So for you I shall make them virtually a gift. A mere three copper rings.’

‘I don’t have any copper rings,’ he said.

‘No rings,’ she repeated, then leaned towards him. ‘But you are a pretty boy, and I know a man who would buy you those sandals if you were nice to him. Would you like to meet him?’

A giant figure moved alongside Xander. ‘No, he would not,’ said Zidantas. He took the sandal from Xander’s hand and examined it. ‘It would bind to his foot in the first rain. He might as well wear sandals made of clay.’

The woman swore at Zidantas, who laughed. ‘Come away, Xander. If you need sandals there is a stall on the far side with items of quality. But first let us eat.’

At a food stall they were each given a bowl of stew and a piece of flat-baked bread. Then Zidantas walked away to a rocky section of the beach, away from the revellers, and sat down. They ate in silence. Xander had not realized how hungry he was. Finishing the stew and the bread he rushed back to another stall, received two honey-baked pies and took one to Zidantas. The giant grinned. ‘I like them well enough, but they make my teeth ache. You eat them both.’

Xander needed no further urging, and devoured them, finally licking the honey from his fingers. ‘This is a wonderful place,’ he said.

Zidantas brushed crumbs from his forked beard. ‘Yes, it is a good bay, and the Fat King feeds sailors well.’

Xander glanced around, and saw Helikaon some distance away, chatting and laughing with sailors from another ship. ‘The Golden One has many friends,’ said Xander.

‘Odysseus is a good friend to have,’ replied Zidantas.

Xander saw soldiers in strange conical helmets and leather breastplates moving through the throng. They were carrying stout clubs.

‘Is there going to be a fight?’ he asked.

‘There are usually one or two before the night wears out,’ Zidantas told him.

‘Unavoidable when you have strong drink, loose women and several hundred sailors. The soldiers will stop them soon enough. They’ll crack a few skulls.’

‘Will people be killed?’

Zidantas shrugged. ‘I’ve known some who died here. Skulls of clay. Mostly there’ll just be head pain and misery.’

Xander looked back at the group around Helikaon. ‘Why is Odysseus a good friend to have?’ he asked.

Zidantas laughed. ‘Your mind flits like a butterfly, boy. You should get some sleep. It will be a long day tomorrow.’