David Gemmell - Lord of the Silver Bow

A middle-aged woman stepped into his path. ‘What is happening?’ she asked him, grabbing his arm. She was frightened and trembling, her face unnaturally pale.

‘We are being attacked,’ he told her, his voice calm. ‘There are wounded men who need aid. There will be more. Can you search the apartments for needles and thread, and tear up linens for bandages?’

Her expression calmed. ‘Yes, I can do that.’

‘Good. Organize the other women, ready to tend those who will need it.’

‘Who is behind this treachery?’ she asked.

‘Agathon.’

She frowned and shook her head. ‘I always liked him,’ she said.

‘So did I.’ Moving past her he knelt by the couch. There was a great deal of blood, and Laodike seemed to be sleeping. He glanced at Andromache.

‘A spear,’ she whispered. ‘It took her low in the back. I have stopped the bleeding and her heartbeat is strong. I think she will recover. ‘

Helikaon reached out and gently brushed a wisp of hair back from Laodike’s brow.

Her eyes opened.

‘Helikaon!’ she cried, with a wide smile. ‘Are the traitors slain?’

‘Not yet.’

‘They killed the priestess. It was dreadful. Were they drunk?’

‘No, Laodike. There is a plot to kill your father.’

‘Antiphones or Dios,’ she said. ‘Or both.’

‘No. Agathon.’

‘Oh, no,’ she whispered. ‘No, it cannot be true.’

‘Sadly it is. He had Antiphones stabbed, and he has ordered the deaths of everyone inside the palace.’

‘He and you were friends,’ said Laodike. ‘I don’t understand. Is Argurios here?’

‘Yes. He is down in the courtyard, organizing the defences.’

‘Defences?’ She seemed bemused.

‘Agathon’s Thrakians have surrounded the palace – and there is a Mykene force coming to aid them.’

‘What about our troops?’

‘The soldiers inside the city are loyal to Agathon. It will be a long night, I think.’

Laodike sighed, then winced. ‘If feels as if I have been kicked by a horse,’ she complained.

‘Stab wounds are like that,’ he told her. ‘And now I must go. You rest now and gather your strength.’

‘Yes, I will. I am very tired. Tell Argurios to be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to him.’

‘Argurios?’ Helikaon glanced at her quizzically.

‘We will be wed,’ she said. ‘It is our destiny.’

Helikaon smiled, then leaned forward and kissed Laodike’s brow. ‘I am happy for you,’ he told her. Then he stood. Andromache rose alongside him. ‘Walk with me a little way,’ he said.

Moving through the apartment they emerged onto a gallery above a wide stairway leading down to the king’s megaron. Below they could see men arming themselves with weapons and shields from the walls.

‘I am glad you came,’ said Andromache.

Helikaon looked into her green eyes. ‘I came for you,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘I think you know.’

‘Perhaps. But there may be little time left to hear the words.’

Taking her hand he lifted it to his lips. He had expected the words to come haltingly, but they did not. ‘I love you, Andromache,’ he said. ‘I have loved you since that first moment on the beach at Blue Owl Bay. You have been in my heart and my mind constantly since that night. If we survive here, will you come back to Dardania with me?’

‘Yes,’ she said simply.

He kissed her. As their lips met all thoughts of peril vanished from his mind.

Nothing else existed, and he knew that this exquisite moment would remain etched in his memory for the rest of his life.

As they finally drew back from one another cold reality rushed in.

The rest of his life. It was likely to be no more than a single night.

‘What are you thinking?’ she whispered.

He smiled. ‘All my life I have been waiting for this moment, only I did not know it. I was thinking that I would rather be here now, standing with you, than anywhere else on the Great Green.’

With the gates closed, and the initial burst of combat behind him, Argurios stood in the courtyard before the palace. On the walls above him some forty Eagles, armed with Phrygian bows, were waiting for the next attack. Behind him he could hear orders being shouted within the king’s megaron. Argurios stood silently, heavy of heart.

He had come here, as a Mykene outlaw, determined to seek Priam’s permission to wed his daughter. Now he was caught up in a civil war. The thought of battle did not disturb him. His whole adult life had been honed in combat. What troubled him, as he stood quietly in the calm before the onslaught, was that Mykene warriors were coming. If Agamemnon had agreed to support Agathon with a small force, it would be made up of the finest warriors of his army. Argurios would have fought beside most of them, celebrated victories with them, commiserated with them when mutual comrades fell. Faces swarmed before his mind’s eye: Kalliades the Tall, Menides Spear Carrier, Banokles One Ear, Eruthros the Joker, Ajax the Skull Splitter…

Were they, even now, marching towards the citadel?

And if they were, how could he, as a Mykene warrior, take up arms against them?

Could he stab Tall Kalliades and watch him fall? Could he send Banokles into the Underworld?

Yet these same men were coming to kill the father of the woman he loved. And what would be her fate if they succeeded? This was, at least, a question he could answer. Though Argurios himself had never raped a woman he knew that such activity was common after a battle.

Anger built in him at the thought of such a fate for Laodike. No, I will not allow that, he decided. I would cut the heart from Agamemnon himself rather than see Laodike hurt.

Moving swiftly to the foot of the rampart, he climbed the twenty steps to where Polydorus was crouched down behind the crenellated wall. Argurios raised his head above the parapet, swiftly scanning the open ground beyond. There were no warriors in sight, though he could see men massing in the shadows of the narrow streets some eighty paces away.

‘They will be seeking ladders,’ said Argurios.

‘They will find plenty of them,’ replied Polydorus. ‘There is always new building work in Troy.’

The walls themselves were no more than the height of two tall men. If the enemy set wagons against them, they would be able to leap from them and haul themselves over the battlements. Argurios glanced back at the palace. Above and to the left of the doors was a long balcony, with high windows. Once the enemy opened the gates they could bring their ladders to the palace walls and scale them, entering the building from above. With enough men Argurios could have held the outer walls for days. Similarly, with three hundred hardened warriors he could defend the palace against a horde. It was galling to have such a fortress, and too few soldiers to keep it secure.

‘I am going inside,’ he told Polydorus. ‘I need to study the megaron and plan for its defence. If they attack before I return loose several volleys into them, and hold the first assault. That is vital.’

‘We will hold, Argurios,’ muttered Polydorus. ‘All night if we have to.’

‘It will not be all night. I will explain more when I return.’

Polydorus smiled. ‘Something to tell my children when they grow, eh? I fought beside Argurios.’

‘You have children?’

‘Not yet. But a man must think ahead.’

Argurios ran down the steps and across the courtyard. Inside the megaron all but the main doors had been barricaded. He saw Priam sitting on his throne, dressed in elaborate armour, decorated with gold and silver, a high-crested helmet upon his lap. Everywhere there were armed men. They had almost stripped the walls of shields and spears. Alongside the king stood Prince Dios. He wore no armour, though a sword was belted by his side.