The pirate chief spoke again. Penelope opened her eyes. “And Sekundos will show us where the black savage is hiding,” he said. “I will have him brought here and slowly dismembered. You can watch him suffer and hear his screams.”
One-armed Bias had defended her through the long day of the attack, killing and wounding more than a dozen invaders until, as hope faded, he reluctantly had retreated on her stern orders, disappearing into the night like a phantom. Each day she heard whispers among the pirates of the dark demon who picked off sentries and lone stragglers. Antinous had scoured the island for him but had not found him.
Penelope had been dragged into her own palace and hurled to the floor before the young pirate chief. He had kicked her in the face and hauled her up by her hair. When she had tried to strike him, he had grasped her fingers, twisting them until two snapped. Then he had punched her to the ground. Half-dazed with pain, she had heard his cold voice.
“I am Antinous, son of a father murdered by Odysseus. I am here for vengeance.”
“Odysseus is no murderer,” she replied, spitting blood from her mouth.
“A foul lie. He was on a ship with Nestor and Idomeneos in a sea battle against my father.”
“Three kings in a sea battle? Ah, yes,” she said, staring up at his long, angular face. “Odysseus spoke of it often, and now I see the resemblance. Your father was the man known as Donkey Face.”
He had punched her again, breaking her nose, then had grabbed her hair, slapping her again and again. Finally, she had sunk unconscious to the floor and had awoken in a tiny cell.
Now she watched Sekundos the Kretan walk up to her, an old shield hanging loosely from his shoulder. He looked frightened, and there was sweat glistening on his bald head.
Glancing nervously at Antinous, he said, “Greetings, lady. I am sorry to see you brought so low.” She saw his gaze taking in her crippled fingers and the crusted blood around her eyes and mouth.
She smiled gently. “Greetings, Sekundos. The company you keep brings you only shame.”
“There is so much shame in my life, lady, that a little more would not weigh heavily on me.”
Antinous laughed and pushed the old pirate away. Then he turned toward Penelope. “You speak of shame in my presence, when I have treated you so well? I fear I must teach you manners!” He raised his left hand to strike her. At that moment there came a hissing sound, and a black-feathered arrow hurtling toward his head plunged instead through his forearm. Antinous cried out in pain and staggered back.
Penelope looked down the length of the hall.
In the far doorway, dressed like a beggar, stood Odysseus, the great bow Akilina in his hand. “And now, you cowsons,” he bellowed, “it is time to die!”
Shocked silence fell. No one moved. In that moment Odysseus calmly notched another arrow and let it fly. The shaft plunged through the throat of a yellow-haired tribesman, who fell back dead.
Pandemonium broke out. Some pirates tried to run for cover. Others grabbed their weapons and charged at the Ithakan king, but a huge dark-haired warrior carrying two swords stepped into their path. He slashed his sword through the throat of the first before ramming his second blade deep into the chest of the pirate alongside him.
Others of Odysseus’ disguised crew drew weapons and attacked. Odysseus ran toward the long feasting table in the center of the hall. A man reared up before him. Odysseus shoulder charged him to the floor, then leaped onto the table.
“I am Odysseus!” he shouted. “You are all dead men now!” His voice boomed like thunder, the words echoing from the rafters.
Achilles and the crew of the Bloodhawk were fighting furiously before the doors, forcing the enemy back toward the center of the hall. Odysseus sent a shaft through the skull of a tall pirate. Two more warriors scrambled onto the table and rushed at him. Odysseus swung Akilina like a club, cracking the bow against the face of the first. The man was hurled from the table. Odysseus twisted to one side and kicked the second man in the knee. The pirate screamed and fell.
A spear flew past Odysseus’ head. He shot an arrow into the chest of the man who had thrown it.
Standing by the throne, Antinous snapped off the arrow in his forearm and with a cry of pain dragged the shaft clear. His left hand was useless, the thumb paralyzed. Drawing a short stabbing sword, he shouted, “Odysseus! Watch your wife die!” Penelope shrank away as the sword blade lanced toward her throat—to be blocked by the shield of Sekundos. The old man’s sword slashed at him, but he was too slow, and Antinous swayed away from the blade.
“You treacherous cur!” Antinous hissed. “You brought them here! Now you can die with them.”
Antinous attacked. Sekundos blocked a thrust with his shield, but Antinous dropped to one knee, his sword slicing beneath the shield and cutting deeply into the old man’s thigh. Sekundos cried out and fell back. Antinous glanced down the long megaron. Odysseus had jumped off the table and thrown aside his bow. He now was fighting with a sword, slashing ferociously left and right, trying to force his way through to his wife.
The balance of the battle was shifting, Antinous realized. The advantage of surprise had been with Odysseus and his men, but that had passed, and the weight of numbers was beginning to tell. There had been almost one hundred fifty pirates in the megaron. The fighting men with Odysseus numbered only forty. They were being forced back slowly toward the great doors. They would have been overrun swiftly were it not for the giant black-haired warrior with the two blades. His strength was terrifying. Again and again his swords cut through defenses, bodies piling up around him.
Antinous turned his attention back to Sekundos, for the old man was advancing on him, shield held high, stabbing sword at the ready.
Antinous laughed. “Old fool, you should have quit the sea years ago. Your muscles are wasted, your speed gone, your bones brittle.”
Antinous darted in, making a feint toward the groin. Sekundos dropped his shield to block the blow. Antinous plunged his short sword over the shield and into the old man’s chest. Sekundos groaned and fell back, his shield clattering to the floor.
In the center of the hall Odysseus was surrounded by pirates, but he surged into them, shouting curses. “Take him alive!” Antinous shouted. “I want him alive!”
Suddenly the great doors were thrust open. More warriors came pouring in, screaming a battle cry.
“Penelope! PENELOPE!”
Antinous stood aghast as more and more fighting men swarmed into the palace. At their center was a warrior in a full-faced helm and breastplate of glittering bronze. He tore into the pirates, cutting down one man and then another.
In panic the pirates fell back once more. Some fled through the side doors to the servants’ quarters. Others retreated toward the throne. The bronze warrior and his men followed hard on their heels, his sword cutting and killing, blood spraying from the blade.
The black-haired giant was beside him now. Antinous had never seen such a deadly display of fighting skills, had not believed it was possible. The bronze warrior was fast, swaying away from plunging blades, his sword lancing out with impossible precision. The giant radiated invincibility, smashing his way into the ranks of the pirates, spilling men from their feet.
Antinous backed away, seeking an escape route.
Then he saw Odysseus advancing toward him, blood pouring from many cuts in his arms and shoulders. The stocky king hurled himself forward, scattering the pirates before him, and charged at Antinous.
The pirate chief shouted a curse and leaped to meet him. Their swords clanged together. Odysseus’ left hand snaked out, grabbing the front of Antinous’ tunic and dragging him into a head butt that smashed his nose. Half-blinded, Antinous struggled to free himself from the older man’s grip, but he could not. Pain, hideous and burning, tore into his belly and up through his lungs. All strength fled from him. The sounds of battle receded in his ears. He found himself staring into the eyes of Odysseus and saw no pity there.