David Gemmell - Shield of Thunder

The five settlements were large villages lying along the coast north of Dardanos, crucially positioned to give early warning of an invasion across the straits. They were inhabited by Phrygians and Mysians and some Thrakians who had chosen to live on the warm coastal lands rather than in the harsher hinterlands. Many families had lived there for generations. Halysia had taken the controversial step of arming the settlements, believing the people would reward her trust with their loyalty. She knew Idaios strongly disagreed with the plan and suspected he had sent back to Troy to tell Priam of his feelings.

Menon, a handsome young general who was increasingly taking the burden from Pausanius’ shoulders, said the chiefs of the five settlements had been sent both light armor and arms: bows, spears, swords, and shields. The local chiefs had been given total freedom regarding the distribution of the weapons to their people.

“If the Mykene come, they will be useless,” Pausanius said grumpily. “A few hundred armed villagers against thousands of fighting men.”

Menon smiled. “I know this, Uncle, but if you were threatened by a thousand armed men, would you rather face them with a sword in your hand or naked and defenseless?”

The old man nodded in reluctant agreement. Halysia heard Idaios breathe in, about to speak, and held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear it, Idaios. I have no doubt that you and your comrades consider this a flawed plan, that these people should not be armed for fear they will use their arms against us or against each other. That might well be true in times of peace, when a Phrygian might kill a Thrakian over the ownership of a cow. But with the threat across the Hellespont constantly in their minds, they will be grateful to be armed and will repay us with their loyalty.”

Idaios took another breath. “Tell me,” she said, cutting him off again, “you have been placed in charge of security on the beach. Are all visitors to Dardanos being searched and disarmed as I ordered?”

A discontented look came over his face. She knew he resented the role she had given him. Confiscating old wooden clubs and blunted swords from visiting seafarers, then returning them to the right owners when they left, was beneath his dignity.

“Yes, lady,” he said, “it is being done. Although—”

“Good,” she said. “This is a vital task. Do not underestimate it.” She stood up before anyone else could speak. “General Pausanius, please walk with me.”

They moved out through the sunlit courtyard and beyond to the bustling stables of the royal guard. Halysia raised her face to the sun and breathed in deeply the smells of horses, sun-bleached straw, and leather. She moderated her pace to allow the old soldier to keep up. She was saddened by his increasing infirmity. In the three years since the attack on Dardanos, his age seemed to have weighed ever more heavily upon him.

From the stables came the sounds of stamping hooves, then angry neighing. Halysia entered the wooden building. With Pausanius behind her, she walked to the farthest stall, where a huge black horse was rearing and bucking, his hooves thundering against the walls, causing them to creak and shudder. As she approached the stall, the beast caught sight of her and lunged, eyes wild and nostrils flaring. His massive chest hit the stall door, cracking the top timber. Unflinching, Halysia stood her ground and spoke quiet words to the animal, which glared at her, then backed away into the shadows.

“I don’t know why you keep that creature around,” Pausanius grumbled. “We brought him up here because he was causing havoc down in the paddocks. Now he’s upsetting the guards’ horses instead.”

“I thought being away from the mares would calm him down,” she said. “He’s always so angry. I wonder why.”

“He’d be less angry if we cut his balls off,” Pausanius offered. “Then he might settle and become a good mount.”

“Helikaon thinks he will make a fine stud animal and create a new breed of warhorse.”

Pausanius shook his head. “Too much spirit to be allowed to roam free. You know he almost crippled one of my best riders? Threw him, then stamped down on his legs. Broke them both. He’s wrong in the head, lady.”

“Open the stall, Pausanius.”

The old man stood his ground. “Please don’t do this, my queen.”

She smiled at him. “He is merely a horse. Not some savage killer. Do as I order you.”

Pausanius stepped forward and lifted the locking bar, pulling the door open just wide enough for Halysia to enter. She saw him draw his sword and knew he was ready to cut the beast’s throat if it threatened her. “Put that away,” she said softly, “and lock the stall behind me.” Stepping inside, she began to hum a soft, soothing tune, then slowly and smoothly lifted her hand and gently stroked the stallion’s neck. It pawed the ground, its ears flat against its skull. “One day,” she whispered, pressing her face against the horse’s cheek, “you and I will ride out into the meadows. You will be a king among horses, and the mares will flock to you.” Taking a handful of straw, she brushed the stallion’s broad back. After a while its ears pricked up, and it turned its head to look at her. “You are so beautiful,” she said. “So handsome, so strong.”

Dropping the straw, she walked slowly back to the stall door. Pausanius opened it, and she stepped out. As the locking bar fell into place, the stallion suddenly reared and lashed out. Pausanius stumbled back and almost fell.

Halysia laughed. “He will be a fine, fine horse,” she said.

“I do not know how you do that,” the old general said. “I’d swear he understands you when you speak to him.”

Outside, Halysia turned to Pausanius. “Will you ride with me, General?”

“I would be honored, my queen.” He called out to a stable boy to fetch mounts. The youngster brought out Halysia’s old bay gelding, Dancer, and a gentle swaybacked mare Pausanius had recently taken a liking to. They rode through the stable yard and down to the Seagate, overlooking the harbor. Halting their mounts on the steep rocky incline, they stared across the narrow ribbon of sea to the shore of war-torn Thraki.

Pausanius voiced the fear she felt. “If eastern Thraki falls, both the armies of the west and rebel Thrakians will arrive on that shore in the thousands.”

She turned and looked at the Seagate. Helikaon had ordered the gate towers reinforced and the stone entrance faced with green marble brought from Sparta. The steep gradient from the harbor would make it nearly impossible to force the gates. An enemy laboring up the hill would lose many men to bowmen safe on the high walls.

“With enough soldiers we could hold out for months,” she said.

The old man grunted. “ Enough would be five times what we have.”

Without another word Halysia turned her horse and rode up along the narrow rocky trail around the outside of the walls, past the highest point of the cliffs, called Aphrodite’s Leap. She smiled as she thought of the old general following her. The ground was uneven, and in places the trail was so narrow that her outside foot hung over an awesome drop to the rocks below.

Pausanius did not fear the dangerous ride, but he feared for her. He could not understand her desire to take such risks. Halysia did not try to explain. Out on the plains of her youth there had been many summer fires. They would blaze in the dry grass, the winds fanning them, driving them toward the settlements. The only way to combat them was to set controlled blazes ahead of the inferno so that when the blaze reached the burned-out areas, it would have nothing to feed on and die away.

These perilous rides were for Halysia a way of containing the greater fears she suffered by enduring a lesser fear she could control.