His eyes swept over her, searching.
‘What say you, Seer?’ Nestor staggered over to them. ‘Did you sense the gods as we passed through the tombs?’
She was so weary she could barely think of a lie. ‘Olympus looks to Troy, but the Twelve have not yet chosen sides. That was a warning.’
The wrinkles deepened between Nestor’s brows as his thoughts turned inward, mulling over her words. Odysseus’ frown remained, but he nodded.
‘There!’ Palamedes pointed to the city. Far to the right of the Scaean Gates, another entrance punctuated the great stone wall. It was difficult to tell in the moonlight, but it looked as though a crack had appeared at its centre. Then five horses emerged, two ridden, the rest tethered behind the leading pair.
‘Praise the gods,’ breathed Nestor.
Danae’s heart lifted as the mounts charged towards them. But her elation was short-lived.
Hundreds of flames burst into light across Troy’s battlements, then the dissonant clanging of bells rippled across the plain.
‘Go,’ shouted Odysseus. ‘Get the horses!’
They pelted down the hillside, sprinting across the stretch of land towards the cantering horses.
Battered and bruised, the Greeks heaved themselves onto their mounts, untied the ropes that bound them together and set off across the Trojan Plain as the slaves retreated towards the city.
The drum of her mare’s hooves thundered through Danae like it were her own heartbeat. Then another sound pricked her ears, a whistle cutting through the rush of the wind and clamouring bells. She looked back.
A swarm of arrows flecked the dark sky, their bronze tips glinting in the moonlight. Time slowed as they seemed to pierce the night then turn and fall towards the Greeks. Danae’s eyes widened as the shafts gathered speed, plummeting downwards.
There was no time to think. Calming her breath, she imagined melting into her mind river, channelled a rope of life-threads into her hand and flung it at the sky. She would not lose control this time.
‘Please, wind,’ she whispered, ‘carry them away.’
So, this is faith, she thought, as she watched the arrows continue to fall, the night sky webbed by threads of golden light. She was suspended somewhere between petrifying fear and a calm deeper than the widest ocean. Then the balance tipped, threatening to send her careering back into a maelstrom of panic. It wasn’t working. Her unquestioning trust was going to kill them.
The tapestry of life flickered, threatening to vanish from her sight.
Then, just as she was about to force her will through her life-threads, the wind answered her plea. A power greater than herself surged through her, and her threads split, twisting across the sky as a blast of salty air scattered the arrows, sending them into a chaotic spin to land in an arc behind the horses.
Nestor laughed, a desperate expulsion of relief. ‘The gods have spared us!’
Another fleet of arrows came, but their horses were now safely out of range. Odysseus looked back, his gaze settling on Danae. A thrill rippled through her at the realization brightening his face.
He may be a wolf, but she was a lion.
47. Light of Mankind
The sky was paling as the peace envoy returned to the Greek camp. At the sound of their horses, men emerged from their tents to stare as the group walked their mounts between the makeshift dwellings. None spoke, their faces grim. Odysseus, Palamedes, Nestor, Hylas and Danae were daubed with blood and dust, and Helen was not among them. It did not take a seer to divine that war was now inevitable.
By the time they tethered the horses and made their way to Agamemnon’s tent, a procession of soldiers trailed behind them, waiting for confirmation of their fate.
The war tent bustled with the Greek allied army’s commanders, all dressed in armour, as though they had already been told the outcome of the expedition.
Silence swept across the room, followed by Agamemnon booming, ‘Well?’ He wore a butcher’s knife sheathed beside the scabbard of his sword.
Odysseus intoned the sacred greeting, then bowed his head. ‘The Trojans betrayed us. Prince Paris attempted to have us murdered while we slept.’
‘Is this true?’ The King of Men addressed Palamedes.
His cousin nodded. ‘We were forced to flee the city. We barely escaped with our lives.’
Nestor sank into a chair. ‘Everything happened so fast. I still do not understand why Paris would do such a foolish thing. To break Zeus’ sacred tradition of xenia …’
