Read Online Troy 02 - Shield of Thunder by David Gemmell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Gemmell
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then. “Why would a man need imagination who travels with you, King of Storytellers? Why, with you I have journeyed through the sky on a flying ship, fought demons, hurled my javelin into the moon, and strung a necklace of stars for a jungle empress. I have had sailors ask me when I am returning to my homeland to take up my crown. Why is it that so many people believe your stories?”
“They like to believe,” Odysseus had told him. “Most men work from dawn to dusk. They live hard, they die young. They want to think that the gods smile down on them, that their lives have more meaning than in fact they do. The world would be a sadder place without stories, Bias.”
Bias smiled at the memory, then sheathed his fighting knives and stood. Odysseus was walking toward him.
“You idle cowson,” the Ugly King said. “What’s the point of being built like a bull if you don’t use your strength when it’s needed?”
“I use it,” Bias said. “Not for pigs, though. And I don’t see you hauling them up to the deck.”
“That’s because I’m the king,” Odysseus replied, grinning. He sat himself down, gesturing to Bias to join him. “So what do you make of our passengers?”
“I like them.”
“You don’t even know them.”
“Then why ask me?”
Odysseus sighed. “The men are Mykene outlaws. I’m thinking of handing them over in Kios. There’ll be gold for them.” Bias laughed then. “What is amusing you?”
Bias looked at his king. “I have served you for nigh on twenty-five years. I’ve seen you drunk, sober, angry, and sad. I’ve seen you mean, bitter, and vengeful, and I’ve seen you generous and forgiving. By the gods, Odysseus, there’s nothing about you I don’t know.”
At that moment the last of the pigs broke away from the men trying to load it into the canvas sling. It ran along the beach, squealing. Several crew members raced after it. Bias fell silent, watching the chase. It was Leukon who caught the beast, hoisting it up in his huge arms and striding back toward the
Penelope.
“It is like this pig venture,” Bias continued. “You say it is about profit. It is not. It is about dead Portheos. His stupid plan, a plan that meant so much to him. You laughed at him for it. Now you grieve for him, and this is your tribute to his memory.”
“I can only suppose there is a point to this,” Odysseus snapped.
“Yes, and you already know what it is. You can talk all you like about selling Kalliades and the big man for gold. It is not in you, Odysseus. Two brave men rescued a young woman on this island, and they have come to you for help. You want me to believe you are minded to betray them? I think not. If all the gods of Olympos descended on us and
demanded
you give them up, you’d refuse. And I’ll tell you something else: Every man in the crew would stand alongside you when you did.”
“Why would they do anything so foolish?” Odysseus asked softly, his spurt of anger fading.
“Because they listen to your stories of heroes, Ugly One, and they know the truth of them.”
The day was calm and the breeze light as the
Penelope
put to sea. Kalliades, Banokles, and Piria stood on the left of the small aft deck. On the right Odysseus manned the long steering oar while Bias called out the beat for the rowers. Nestor and his two sons were on the foredeck, some twenty paces forward.
Kalliades stood silently, marveling at the beauty of the old ship. Drawn up on the beach, she had looked blocky and coarse, her timbers worn. But she glided upon the Great Green like a dancer. The pirate ship had wallowed and struggled through the waves, but her keel had been encrusted with barnacles, her crew careless and lacking in skill. The thirty men of the
Penelope
were highly trained, the oars rising and dipping in perfect unison.
The small herd of pigs was clustered in a rectangular enclosure on the main deck. It had been cunningly crafted, two masts on
“They like to believe,” Odysseus had told him. “Most men work from dawn to dusk. They live hard, they die young. They want to think that the gods smile down on them, that their lives have more meaning than in fact they do. The world would be a sadder place without stories, Bias.”
Bias smiled at the memory, then sheathed his fighting knives and stood. Odysseus was walking toward him.
“You idle cowson,” the Ugly King said. “What’s the point of being built like a bull if you don’t use your strength when it’s needed?”
“I use it,” Bias said. “Not for pigs, though. And I don’t see you hauling them up to the deck.”
“That’s because I’m the king,” Odysseus replied, grinning. He sat himself down, gesturing to Bias to join him. “So what do you make of our passengers?”
“I like them.”
“You don’t even know them.”
“Then why ask me?”
Odysseus sighed. “The men are Mykene outlaws. I’m thinking of handing them over in Kios. There’ll be gold for them.” Bias laughed then. “What is amusing you?”
Bias looked at his king. “I have served you for nigh on twenty-five years. I’ve seen you drunk, sober, angry, and sad. I’ve seen you mean, bitter, and vengeful, and I’ve seen you generous and forgiving. By the gods, Odysseus, there’s nothing about you I don’t know.”
At that moment the last of the pigs broke away from the men trying to load it into the canvas sling. It ran along the beach, squealing. Several crew members raced after it. Bias fell silent, watching the chase. It was Leukon who caught the beast, hoisting it up in his huge arms and striding back toward the
Penelope.
“It is like this pig venture,” Bias continued. “You say it is about profit. It is not. It is about dead Portheos. His stupid plan, a plan that meant so much to him. You laughed at him for it. Now you grieve for him, and this is your tribute to his memory.”
“I can only suppose there is a point to this,” Odysseus snapped.
“Yes, and you already know what it is. You can talk all you like about selling Kalliades and the big man for gold. It is not in you, Odysseus. Two brave men rescued a young woman on this island, and they have come to you for help. You want me to believe you are minded to betray them? I think not. If all the gods of Olympos descended on us and
demanded
you give them up, you’d refuse. And I’ll tell you something else: Every man in the crew would stand alongside you when you did.”
“Why would they do anything so foolish?” Odysseus asked softly, his spurt of anger fading.
“Because they listen to your stories of heroes, Ugly One, and they know the truth of them.”
The day was calm and the breeze light as the
Penelope
put to sea. Kalliades, Banokles, and Piria stood on the left of the small aft deck. On the right Odysseus manned the long steering oar while Bias called out the beat for the rowers. Nestor and his two sons were on the foredeck, some twenty paces forward.
Kalliades stood silently, marveling at the beauty of the old ship. Drawn up on the beach, she had looked blocky and coarse, her timbers worn. But she glided upon the Great Green like a dancer. The pirate ship had wallowed and struggled through the waves, but her keel had been encrusted with barnacles, her crew careless and lacking in skill. The thirty men of the
Penelope
were highly trained, the oars rising and dipping in perfect unison.
The small herd of pigs was clustered in a rectangular enclosure on the main deck. It had been cunningly crafted, two masts on
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