A Thousand Ships(55)

‘I bring more than just my own men to your fine shores today,’ Odysseus continued.

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, I have brought an old friend to see you. We could not resist the chance for you to be reacquainted.’

‘Who can you mean?’ Polymestor asked. He turned this way and that, trying to pick out the unexpected visitor from the motley mass of sailors.

‘Ah, you will not find your friend out here on the shore,’ Odysseus said. ‘She awaits you in that tent.’ He pointed to the grey cloth which had been stretched over a few poles to create a makeshift shelter.

‘She?’ Polymestor asked, his expression acquiring a lascivious tinge.

‘Hecabe, queen of Troy,’ Odysseus said. His eyes were fixed firmly on the Greek king, who looked only slightly disconcerted.

‘It was not a crime to have friends in my own region.’ Polymestor’s tone was quiet and measured.

‘Of course not. Hecabe said you had been a friend to her husband long before the war broke out.’

Relief suffused the Thracian king’s face. ‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘It is just as she told you. We were trading partners and more, bound by ancient ties of guest-friendship.’

‘As I hope you and I will be,’ Odysseus said, patting him on the back once more. ‘Before the sun sets on our ships today.’

Polymestor nodded in delight. ‘We shall be, Odysseus. We shall be firm friends.’

‘One more thing,’ Odysseus said. ‘Hecabe has confessed something to me, on the voyage from Troy.’

‘What is that?’

‘She sent away her young son to your safe-keeping.’

Cassandra watched as Polymestor wrestled against his nature, to talk when he was nervous.

‘I . . .’ He paused and looked out across the bay. Even for those bound by the vows of guest-friendship, harbouring a young man from an enemy city might be a step too close to treachery for the Greeks.

‘Ah, I see I’ve made you uncomfortable,’ Odysseus said. One more pat on the shoulder and the Thracian king would be nursing bruises. ‘I understand that you gave the young man shelter. It was your obligation to Priam.’

‘You do understand,’ Polymestor said. ‘I did not choose for the boy to be sent here, but once he arrived . . .’

‘What could you do?’ Odysseus asked.

‘What could I do?’ he echoed.

‘You could give the boy every comfort and bring him up as your own,’ Odysseus said.

‘Yes,’ Polymestor agreed. ‘I did just as you say.’

‘You have sons of your own?’

‘I do. Two boys. Younger than Priam’s son,’ he said. ‘They are just eight and ten years old. And already the older one stands so high.’ He placed his hand at the height of his heart. ‘The younger one is shorter by barely three fingers’ width.’

‘Ah, send one of your men to bring them here,’ Odysseus said. ‘I have left my own son at home. I would be happy to see your two fine boys.’

‘Of course.’ Polymestor beckoned one of his servants, and muttered instructions. The slave nodded and hurried away.

‘You might bring Polydorus as well,’ Odysseus called after him. The slave froze and turned, gazing wordlessly at his king.

‘What?’ Polymestor’s smile no longer hid anything.

‘That is his name, is it not? Polydorus? Ah, I can see from your confusion that I’ve made a mistake. What is Priam’s boy called?’

The smell of fear was unmistakeable now.

‘No, you are quite right, quite right,’ Polymestor said. ‘But I cannot send for him.’

‘Why ever not? His mother is here. It is his last chance to see her before she sails off to Ithaca with me. Surely you would not deprive the boy of such a meeting?’

‘I would not, of course I would not.’ Polymestor thought quickly. ‘But he is away, hunting in the mountains.’

‘The mountains?’

‘Yes, further inland. Several days’ ride. He likes nothing more than a hunt.’

‘So odd. First I misremember his name, and then I imagine he has no taste for riding a horse. I was sure Hecabe said—’

‘No, no, quite right,’ Polymestor replied. ‘He did not have a taste for hunting when he arrived here. But he has grown to enjoy it greatly.’

‘Ah, yes. Making up for the years spent penned behind the high walls of Troy, no doubt.’

‘Exactly,’ Polymestor said. Cassandra could see the sweat soaking through his thick embroidered robe. The sour stench battled with the sweet cinnamon perfume and Cassandra felt as though her throat was closing up.

‘So his mother will not get her hoped-for reunion after all,’ Odysseus said.

‘I fear she will not.’

‘But perhaps it will be worth it, to know he is living such a healthy outdoor life.’

‘I hope so.’

Again the scene slid away. Cassandra blinked and saw the boys running behind the slave, running towards their father. The younger one pointed at the high mast of Odysseus’ ship. He had never seen a vessel so tall and could not stop yammering to his brother, who adopted the expression of a man who has seen every type of ship before. They reached their father, and were suddenly shy in front of all the strangers.