Odysseus shielded his eyes from the sun that sparkled off the water. Where the satyr pointed, a ship lay on its side, pulled up on to the sand. A black-tarred ship. He recognised the fish markings on its side.
The pirates’ ship.
CHAPTER 10: THE PLAN
“THEY’RE COLLECTING WAAAATER FROM the spring,” said Silenus. “Been there since this morning. But I was aaaafraid to show myself in caaaase—like many maaaanlings—they’re cruel.”
“Crueller than the gods?” Odysseus asked.
“The gods do not eat goats,” said Silenus.
Odysseus stared down at the busy scene below.
“You don’t look very haaaappy,” Silenus said. “I thought you’d be haaaappy to see your shipmaaaates.”
“That isn’t my ship,” Odysseus told him. “Those are pirates.”
“How caaaan you be sure?”
Odysseus sat back on his heels. “I’ve run into them before.”
“Before—or aaaafter—the fight with the sea serpent?”
Above them gulls flew in circles, screaming at one another.
Odysseus sighed. “There was no sea serpent.”
Silenus nodded. “I knew thaaaat.”
Odysseus said carefully, “Then know this: those pirates would cut my throat as well as yours.”
“Aaaa,” Silenus said. He flopped down on to a rock, with his elbows on his hairy knees. “I knew you weren’t really a prince. Moment I looked aaaat you, I knew. You’re not taaaall enough. Not fine enough. Now Perseus—there was aaaa true prince. Aaand Hercules—the muscles on thaaaat boy. Aaand—”
“I am a prince,” said Odysseus. “For what it’s worth.”
“Not worth much,” the satyr said. “It’s not princes we need now. We need aaaa hero.”
“A hero!” Odysseus stood.
“Who is aaaa sailor,” said Silenus, standing and sidling over to Odysseus, but thankfully downwind.
“I grew up around boats,” said Odysseus. “I’m an islander, after all. I’ve sailed from one end of Achaea to the other.”
Silenus looked suddenly sly. “If we found aaaa boat—even aaaa small boat—could you get us to the mainlaaaand?”
Odysseus rounded on the satyr. “You have a boat? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Well, it’s a very smaaaall boat. Haaaardly worth mentioning.” Suddenly the sun hid behind a dark cloud, and the old satyr’s face became full of shadows.
“How small?”
Silenus looked around, as if afraid of being overheard. “Some while back—months, years, I’ve lost count—this fishing boat waaaashed on to the beach. You’d be surprised—really you would—what I’ve found in the shaaaallows.”
“Get on with it,” growled Odysseus.
“It waaaas wrecked, of course. But I fixed it.”
“So why haven’t you sailed off?” Odysseus asked.
“Goats and waaaater. Baaaad mix. Baaaad. Baaaad. Baaaad.”
Odysseus looked back over the ledge. There was an awning set up next to the pirate boat. He assumed the two girls lay under it. But he couldn’t see Mentor anywhere.
“Where is your boat?” Odysseus asked suddenly.
“On the other side of the island,” said Silenus. He joined Odysseus in looking over the ledge. “But we could taaaake their boat.”
“You really don’t know anything about ships, goat-man,” Odysseus said. “That’s a full-size war galley. We couldn’t even get it back into the water, let alone hoist the sail. We couldn’t—”
Silenus sniffed loudly. “I smell something sweet.”
“The wind must be blowing away from you then,” Odysseus muttered, turned, and saw Mentor tied to a date tree.
He’s alive! Odysseus bit his lip. Thank you, Athena.
“Wine and women, women and wine,” sang Silenus, sniffing. “Nothing sweeter for paaaassing the time …”
Odysseus grabbed the goat-man by the horns and pulled his head around to face him. “Listen, Silenus—I can sail your little boat. But first we have to rescue a friend of mine.”
Silenus tore from Odysseus’ grasp to look over the side again. “But there are two … twenty … thirty baaaad men there.”
Odysseus yanked him back by the little goat tail. “Then we’ll have to come up with a plan.”
Making a plan was easy. Odysseus thought; it was a lot like telling a story.
Of course, in a story, heroes always win.
But acting on the plan was going to be a great deal more difficult. Large boulders, slippery rocks and prickly bushes had their own way of adding to a tale. By the time Odysseus and Silenus were hidden among the rocks at the edge of the beach, Odysseus’ arms and legs bore the scars of such a telling. His tunic was sopping wet with sweat, and the goat-man was—unbelievably—smellier than ever.
Still, they had got where they’d hoped to get: far enough away that the sailors couldn’t hear them, close enough that they could watch what was going on.
It was clear the pirates were getting ready to leave. The newly filled water jars were lined up by the side of the boat. Scattered about the beach were the remains of a cookfire.
Breakfast, Odysseus thought, and his stomach growled.
Mentor was no longer tied to the tree but now—bound hand and foot—he was propped against the ship’s black hull.
A few yards away Helen and Penelope—also tied—sagged against each other. Helen had a gag over her mouth.
Odysseus wasn’t surprised.
“Women,” said Silenus by his side. “You didn’t saaaay, but I knew. The nose aaaalways knows. Wine and women,” he began singing in his bleating monotone. “Women and wine—”
Odysseus elbowed him. “Shut up. Go and do your part of the plan or you can forget about my helping you get off this island.”
“I’ll make my waaaay there and baaaack without them noticing,” Silenus said. Then, casting one last lingering glance at the bound girls, he began to pick his way through the rocks with a speed and stealth Odysseus envied.
Just then the captain of the pirates stood, and in his stiff-legged mastiff way, walked over to the boat to check on things.
“Load the water first. Then the prisoners. Girls first. Then push the ship off,” he commanded loudly in his bark of a voice.
The pirates jumped to do his bidding. Odysseus was suddenly wondering if the satyr could possibly get to the other side of the beach in time, when a cry went up from one of the sailors.
“Look! Look!” A sailor with a curling beard was pointing.
The pirates all looked and, from his hiding place, Odysseus looked as well.
Silenus had indeed made good his boast. Hopping on to a large boulder, he started making obscene gestures in the sailors’ direction. “Ugly sea dogs. Woof! Woof!” he cried. “Medusaaaa waaaas your mother. Ugly! Ugly! Like aaaa centaur’s hind end!”
The pirates gaped at him.
Silenus did a little dance on the rock and stuck out his tongue. “Do the world aaaa favour,” he called. “Behead yourselves. Baaaad men. Baaaaaaad.” Bleating, he swung around bent over, and let loose a noxious blast of wind.
Boreas himself does not blow that hard, thought Odysseus with a grin.
The captain drew his sword. “After him, lads,” he yelled. “But don’t kill him. There may be some profit to be had from exhibiting that foul-tongued beast.”
The pirates all swarmed off in pursuit.
Silenus had promised he knew every rock and crevice on the island and could easily shake off any pursuit. Odysseus hoped this was true, for he needed plenty of time to free Mentor.
But at the edge of the beach, the pirate chief had a sudden change of heart.
“Thyetes,” he called to one of the men, “go back and stay with those prisoners. Lest there be any more such beasties around.”