The archers were lofting their shots now, to get over our shield wall. Flaming arrows fell among us; men screamed and fell to the stone flooring, their clothes and flesh on fire.
The barrage of arrows would quickly break our shield wall, and then what was left of my men would go down individually under the weight of Trojan numbers. I felt a burning fury rising inside me, a rage against these men who were trying to kill us and against the gods that drove us to such murderous games. Call it battle frenzy, call it bloodlust, I felt the civilized compunctions, the veneer of morality burning away; and out of that flame of hatred and fear there arose an Orion who was beyond civilization, a barbarian with a spear in his hand that thirsted for blood.
“Hold here,” I said to Lukka. Before he could do more than grunt I drove forward, surprising the Trojans in front of me. Holding my spear in two hands, level with the floor, I pushed four of them off their feet and slipped between the others, dodging their clumsy thrusts as they turned in dreamlike slow-motion to cut me down. I killed two of them; Lukka and his men killed several more, and the others quickly turned back to face the Hatti soldiers.
I dashed toward the archers. Most of them turned and ran, although two stood their ground and fired arrows at me as rapidly as they could. I picked them off with my shield as I ran. I caught the first archer on my spear, a lad too young to have more than the wisp of a beard. His companion started to pull out the sword at his side but I knocked him spinning with a swipe of my shield. He toppled off the platform to the ground below.
The other archers had retreated out of range of my Hatti troops, who were still battling to hold their foothold on the wall. For the span of a heartbeat I was alone. But only for that long. The Trojan nobles were rushing along the platform toward me, a dozen of them, with more behind them. I hefted my long spear in one hand and threw it at the closest man. Its heavy weight drove it completely through his shield and into his chest. He staggered backward into the arms of his two nearest companions.
I threw my shield at them to slow them down further, then picked up the bow from the archer I had slain. It was a beautiful, gracefully curved thing of horn and smooth-polished wood. But I had no time to admire its construction. I fired every arrow in the dead youth’s quiver, forcing the nobles to cower behind their bodylength shields, holding them at bay for a precious few minutes.
Once the last arrow was gone and I threw down the useless bow, their leader dropped his shield enough for me to recognize him: Aleksandros, a sardonic smile on his almost-pretty face.
“So the herald is a warrior, after all,” he called to me.
Sliding my sword from its sheath, I responded, “Yes. Is the stealer of women a warrior, as well?”
“A better one than you,” Aleksandros said.
“Prove it then,” I stalled. “Face me man to man.”
He glanced at the Hatti battling behind me. “Much as I would enjoy that, today is not the day for such pleasures.”
“Today is the last day of your life, Aleksandros,” I said.
As if on cue, a piercing, blood-curdling war cry came from behind me. Odysseus!
Aleksandros looked startled for a moment, then he screamed to his followers, “Clear the wall of them!”
The Trojans charged. They had to get past me before they could reach Lukka and Odysseus. I faced a dozen long spears with nothing but my sword. They ran at me in slow-motion, bronze spear points glinting in the dawning light, bobbing slightly with each pounding step they took. I noticed that Aleksandros slid toward the rear and let others come at me first.
I moved a step toward the edge of the platform, then dived between the two nearest spears and got close enough to use my sword. Two Trojans went down, and the others turned toward me. I barely avoided one point jamming toward my belly as I hacked at another spear haft and cut it in two with my iron blade. I ducked another thrust and stepped back — onto empty air.
As I tottered on the edge of the platform, another spear came thrusting at me. I banged its bronze head with the metal cuff around my left wrist, deflecting it enough to save my skin. But the motion sent me tumbling off the platform.
I turned a full somersault in midair and landed on my feet. The impact buckled my knees and I rolled on the bare dirt of the street. A spear thudded into the ground next to my shoulder. Turning, I saw a pair of arrows heading my way. I dodged them and ducked behind the corner of a house.
Aleksandros and his men rushed toward the battle still raging farther along the platform, at the top of the walclass="underline" my Hatti contingent and Odysseus’s Ithacans against the growing numbers of Trojans roused so rudely from their sleep. We needed a diversion, something to draw off the Trojan reinforcements.
I sprinted down the narrow alley between houses until I found a door. I kicked it open. A woman screamed in sudden terror as I stamped in, sword in hand. She crouched in a corner of her kitchen, her arms around two small children huddling against her. As I strode toward them they all shrieked and ran along the wall, screeching and skittering like mice, then bolted for the open door. I let them go.
A small cooking fire smoldered in the hearth. I yanked down the flimsy curtains in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the next room and tossed them onto the fire. It flared into open flame. Then I smashed the wooden table and fed it to the blaze. Striding into the next room, I grabbed straw bedding and blankets and added them to the fire.
Two houses, three, then the whole row of them I set ablaze. People were screaming and shouting. Men and women alike raced toward the fire with buckets of water drawn from the fountain at the end of the street.
Satisfied that the fire would keep them busy, I started up the nearest flight of steps to return to the battle on the platform.
Achaians were pouring over the parapet now and the Trojans were giving way. I leaped on them from the rear, yelling out to Lukka. He heard me and led his contingent to my side, cutting a bloody swath through the defending Trojans.
“The watchtower by the Scaean gate,” I said, pointing with my reddened sword. “We’ve got to take it and open the gate.”
We fought along the length of the wall, meeting the Trojan warriors as they came up in groups of five or ten or a dozen and driving away those few we did not kill. The fires I had started were spreading to other houses now, and a pall of black smoke hid the palace from our sight.
The watchtower was only lightly guarded; most of the Trojan strength was being thrown against Odysseus on the western wall. We broke into the guard room, the Hatti using their spear butts to batter the door down, and slaughtered the men there. Then we raced down to the ground and started to lift the heavy beams that barricaded the Scaean gate. A wailing scream arose, and I saw that Aleksandros and the other nobles were racing down the stone steps from the parapet toward us.
We had them on the horns of uncertainty now. If they allowed Odysseus to hold the wall, the rest of the Achaians would enter the city that way. But if they concentrated on clearing the wall, we would open the gate and allow the Achaian chariots to drive into the city. They had to stop us at both places, and stop us quickly.
Archers began shooting at us, but despite them the Hatti tugged and pushed to open the massive gate. Men fell, but the three enormous beams were slowly lifting, swinging up and away from the doors.
I ducked an arrow and saw Aleksandros rushing toward me across the open square behind the gate. “You again!” he shouted at me.
They were his last words. He charged at me with his spear. I dodged sideways, forced it down with my left forearm, and drove my iron sword through his bronze breastplate up to the hilt. As I yanked it out, bright red blood spattered over the golden inlays and I felt a mad surge of pleasure, battle joy that I had taken the life of the man who had caused the war.