The Heron Ring by Pilbeam Steven

Author:Pilbeam, Steven [Pilbeam, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-23T00:00:00+00:00

Agamemnon was squatting on a pinewood commode, surrounded by an exultant press of warlords when Aletes was admitted into his presence. While he noisily evacuated his bowels, a prayer chanting shaman used a dagger to prize a deeply embedded arrowhead from the king’s upper thigh. At his feet was the partly crushed head of a dark-skinned Trojan.

‘Meet Agapenor,’ he said to Aletes, grunting, farting, and shouting to make himself heard. ‘Next to Hector, the best of King Priam’s sons. At this rate, he’ll run out of princely blood to offer up to our thirsty gods.’

‘I’ll drink to that!’ bellowed Menelaus, the long shaft of dead Ajax’s bone and blood smeared war hammer that he had won at the funeral games to honour that mighty warrior, resting easily on one of his lintel-like shoulders.

‘The Trojan cur never saw what hit him,’ Agamemnon continued. ‘I cracked his skull so hard his helmet split open like an egg and one of his eyeballs popped out. His head had to go. No peace for him in the Underworld.’

A fresh outburst of raucous cheering filled the stale air as Menelaus lifted his cup in salute to Agamemnon.

‘Here’s to you, brother!’ Menelaus said. ‘And the hard-fought victory your quick thinking enabled us to win. After last night’s mauling, the Trojans will think twice before launching another mass attack.’

‘Let us hope so,’ said a wincing Agamemnon, voiding a large malodorous stool the instant the barbed arrowhead was cut from his thigh.

‘Truth is, we came within the width of a gnat’s cock of defeat last night and being driven from this camp. Our losses were nearly as heavy as the Trojans’ and equally unsustainable.’

Agamemnon rose to his feet, frustrating the shaman’s attempts to stem the fresh flow of blood from his thigh.

‘You should lay down, oh glorious son of Atreus, at least until your wound stops bleeding,’ the shaman implored. ‘You look fevered, and the royal motion is worryingly flaccid. A clear sign you have lost too much blood.’

Aletes had been summoned to the king earlier than expected. It was still dark outside, and he had only managed a few hours of ravaged sleep. After the night attack, Agamemnon was keen to implement Odysseus’ plan before the Trojans regrouped and launched another offensive.

‘This is no time to rest,’ Agamemnon said, testily. ‘Sponge my arse clean, then go sacrifice Agapenor’s horse to the gods. Menelaus and I will be inspecting the wooden horse, so you can bring word to me there that the omens are favourable. Favourable, mind you. We do not want to hear any more bad news. The rest of you bold titans, return to your camps and make ready to sail on the next tide. There will be ample opportunity to slake your thirsts after this day’s work is done.’

As the pavilion gradually emptied, attendants appeared bearing trays of cold hare, beef, pork, cheese, grapes, and fresh white flatbread from the royal kitchen.

‘Come, Zygouris, join us. This may be your last chance to eat a good meal for a while.

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