Read Online The Songs of the Kings by Barry Unsworth - Free Book Online Page B

of. That’s one motherfucker won’t talk out of turn again, I can promise you that.”
    â€œYour patriotism will be remembered and rewarded,” Odysseus said. “Liberally rewarded. You know, when we get across the water.”
    In the reflective silence that followed these words, one of his Ithacan guards came in to announce that Chasimenos was outside, asking to be admitted. Odysseus went himself to the entrance to accompany the scribe inside—it was essential that Chasimenos should feel valued.
    â€œWhat went wrong?” Chasimenos said to Phylakos as soon as he was inside the tent. He took less care than Odysseus had taken to keep his tone free of annoyance. “All the planning that went into it and you people couldn’t even stick to the story.”
    But Phylakos was not prepared, in a military camp, to take rebukes from a civilian, however high-ranking. “It wasn’t me telling the story,” he said, in a voice like the dragging of gravel. “It wasn’t my story at all, it was yours. You schooled them in it, you should have seen the bastard was off his chump.”
    â€œGood heavens, do you think I have time for character analysis? Have you any idea of the administrative difficulties involved in organizing a meeting like that, making sure that the chiefs are notified well in advance, so no one is drunk or out hunting or pillaging some local farm or busy raping someone? No good sending out memoranda, none of them can read.” This clodhopper, he thought, all he can do is swing a sword. “And you backed him up,” he said. “You supported that nonsense about the eagles eating the young of the hare. It’s the official version now.”
    â€œNo good crying over spilt milk,” Odysseus said. “The harm is done now, recriminations won’t help.” How ridiculous, he thought, these two standing glaring at each other, the soldier and the civil servant, each feeling he belonged to a superior race, when in reality they were as alike as two peas, both hirelings. Phylakos had physical courage but he would sign up with anyone he thought likely to win; he took orders and hoped for promotion if he did well. Chasimenos was devoted to the King’s interest, as he saw it, but he was a natural subordinate, dreaming of a Greater Mycenae across the water, where his services would be rewarded and his power and influence increased. One in steady employment, one up for grabs, that was really the only difference. “We must look forward, not back,” he said. “The past has less substance than a shadow, it can hardly be said to exist at all. Besides, it isn’t such a disaster. The omen has become more ambiguous than we intended, that’s all. Phylakos, can I ask you to do me a service?”
    Phylakos raised his chin and squared his shoulders. “Yours to command.”
    â€œEither go yourself or send one of your people, find Croton the priest and bring him here to my tent as soon as possible.”
    â€œI will go myself.” With this, he raised his hand in salute and strode out, without a glance at Chasimenos, who said, as soon as he was out of the tent, “That man is an oaf, he has no manners at all, he really gets my back up.”
    â€œWell,” Odysseus said, “you are two very different kinds of person after all. But we’ll have to forget our differences and forge ahead if we want what is best for Agamemnon and the Greek cause.”
    â€œThat is true.”
    â€œBefore Croton comes, there are one or two things I thought we could talk over. As you and I both know, the expeditionary force is far from united at present. Less than half of the people here are from regions anywhere close to Agamemnon’s power base in the Argolis. My own Ithacans are a case in point. Of course, I’m bound by oath to the Mycenaean cause, through thick and thin, but the same can’t be said for everybody. There are