The Defence of Troia: The Paladin Chronicles, #2

By Neil Port

Sword and Sorcery Epic Fantasy 18 + Winner of a Readers' Favorite award and indieBrag Medallion.

Hakeem, his wife the elf queen Elana, and their adopted daughter Jacinta ride in haste to join the city as it prepares for a siege.
But the large armies headed to Troia are not the only danger for the pitiful few defenders. as something seems to go wrong with the preparations the mood of the city turns dangerous. if the populous revolts, the small city garrison will be unable to maintain order and all will be lost.
Also while the elves have lost most of their magic, pitted against them are those whose dark powers are undiminished. Elana begins to get premonitions that a great catastrophe is approaching them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Neil Port
• Release date: Apr 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9798223749165

Neil Port

Neil has been a day dreamer all his life, writing unpublished stories from the age of nine. He retired from a medical career to write and play a little bad golf. When his wife, dog and family allow him, he loves staring out the window and disappearing into a world of swords, warriors, warrior women and elves or bashing away at his computer. A love of ancient history and civilizations has resulted in his fantasy series being set in exotic locations in ancient times.

Book preview

Chapter 1: A Desperate Race, a City in Peril

For Elana and Jacinta, the next two weeks were a blur of pain and misery.

The allies had set up a fast courier service from Elgard to Troia. Every ten miles there was a station with fresh horses and a small escort. The Makedónes had taken Byzántion and crossed the Bósporos straits into Anatolē. Now Hakeem, Elana and their daughter followed this route in a desperate dash from Elgard to Troia.

Hakeem at first kept offering them rest, but the girls angrily refused and pushed on till they were drooping in the saddles. It took an awful lot to worry Hakeem, and they had never seen him so worried.

Hakeem forced them to eat and drink, but as soon as they lay down, they were asleep … only to be woken in a daze to ride again. The weather was appalling – blizzards and then cold, stinging rain.

Jacinta and Elana were young and healthy and had been training like elite athletes. Now they were called on to give all they could give … and then they were asked to give more, and then even more.

They no longer knew where they travelled and had lost track of all time.

It was the night of the sixteenth day and Elana could feel her horse carrying her up a long steep slope. Through a fog of exhaustion, she realised she could see the walls of Troia outlined by rows of torches flaming in their sconces.

She heard the challenge and the proud reply. "My name is Hakeem. I am a commander for King Helios, the Warlord of the desert people and now of the elves. King Helios and I have given our oaths to assist you in danger. We are proud to call the brave men and women of Troia friends, and prouder yet to stand with them in their hour of need!

With me is Elana, Queen of the Eastern Elves, and Jacinta, the daughter of our heart! Be assured: armies of Helios, my tribesmen and the elves will follow and more will come from the cities to the south. Now, let us pass, and show the way, so we may give honour to your king!

A great cry went up! Never, since Troia was an elf city more than a millennium ago, had it faced such peril. People were in despair. Suddenly, out of this darkness rode hope! Old foes came, not to gloat, but out of love. They came to stand shoulder to shoulder with the people of Troia.

The Warlord himself came! And the great elven queen! And look at them! They have spent themselves to come so far. They rode by some feat of great endurance to aid us!

Hope has returned.

Troia had been defeated, yes, but now they were treated with great honour by the victors. Oaths were taken, yes. Yet now they were honoured beyond hope! Troia had formidable and determined friends, whatever it faced. With them, it was stronger than before.

Never, ever would this gesture, this act of honour, this kindness be forgotten.

The weary, travel-stained trio was given greater honour than if they had arrived with pomp and finery at the head of a mighty host. Their ragged unkempt appearance showed their willingness to give their all for the people of Troia!

While only three came, with a small escort, it had an effect never equalled in the history of the city.

Hakeem and Jacinta fell to their knees before King Leandros. Jacinta sagged, using one hand to keep from falling. Elana smiled and bowed formally and politely as one monarch to another, but she could hardly keep her eyes open or stand up straight and she was swaying where she stood.

The king himself leapt up before all his court. He hugged them and kissed them, and made haste to send them to their rest.

And while their guests slept, the Troians celebrated with glad heart. No greater token could be sent. The Queen of Elves herself! And the Warlord, wearied to the limit of endurance! They even brought their young adopted child to share the danger of the imperilled city.

But elves! It was a miracle!

Elves had always avoided the new Troia, haunted, as they saw it, by their ancient dead. They never involved themselves in the affairs of humans. Now in Troia's most desperate hour, the mighty elves themselves heeded the call and returned again to defend the site of their ancient holy city.

* * *

Hakeem woke early and did some gentle exercise to counter his soreness. Then he set out to check on his wife and daughter. For a big man, he could move soundlessly. He snuck a careful peek at his daughter, knowing she was a light sleeper.

He took longer to stare in admiration and pride at his wife, Elana. The elf's silky blond hair lay on the pillow, her slightly pointed elvish ears poking out. She had the unnaturally pale complexion of an elf with a slight blush on the cheeks and the tips of her ears and a very fine dusting of freckles.

Her startling green eyes were closed and beautiful lips parted as she breathed peacefully. Her features were so fine and so perfect that he felt again a surge of love for her. It felt like a dream that someone like himself could have won her love.

She had fallen into an exhausted sleep, still in her travel clothes, and was tangled in a sheet. She had endured so much out of her love for him. He couldn't resist giving her a light kiss. She murmured and smiled in her sleep as her husband moved silently from her room.

The servants directed him to King Leandros, who was breakfasting on the terrace with his two young sons, Euripides and Hypatos. His eldest, Karpos, was in Abydos directing the forward defences.

Hakeem fell to one knee and bowed his head, his right arm across his chest in salute, but Leandros waved his hand dismissively. Well, well my young friend. You have certainly come up in the world. Perhaps I should be bowing to you! Warlord of the Shantawi no less, and Warlord of the elves. Who has ever heard of such a thing? And you a human!

Hakeem laughed, colouring slightly. It's nothing much, Great King. Samit was the previous Shantawi Warlord and I'm sure I'll never match him. There was just no more suitable candidate at the time.  As for the elves, that's an empty title so some chambermaid doesn't think she can order me around.

Leandros chuckled and motioned for him to sit. I see, so what is this about being a Shayvist paladin then? That's a rare honour and no doubt you are worthy.

Hakeem gestured helplessly and laughed self-consciously. Don't believe any of it, great Lord. It means I'm half a monk and half a fighter and probably not much of either.

Leandros laughed; he was well used to Hakeem by now. Be that as it may, my exceptional and modest friend, I am getting old. With my best commanders in the field to defend the approaches, I hope you will agree to demonstrate your undoubted incompetence by acting as my personal aide in preparing Troia.

Hakeem was overcome. Hakeem wasn't a stratēgos (general) and he was an ally, not a Troian. He found the king's trust deeply moving. Modesty demanded he beg out of this opportunity, but he just couldn't do it!

He would love the chance to work with someone of Leandros's reputation on such a complex problem. He turned to Leandros a little awed and his eyes alight with pleasure.

Trying to supress a grin, he answered formally, Great Lord, you do me an honour beyond my worth.

Wait till you find what we have to work with before you get too happy, Leandros warned him.

After they had all breakfasted, the king and his two young sons and the Lokhagos(captain) of the Guard led Hakeem on a tour of the fortifications and preparations.

The inspection reinforced what Hakeem already knew. Troia was no Elgard, but it was a well-designed and well-provisioned fortress-city. It stood tall, proud and beautiful on a huge bluff surrounded on three sides by the sea.

The massive stone walls rose a good forty feet above the cliffs, so that even Hakeem felt dwarfed by them. On the landward side, they had regular bastions projecting out to allow archers and catapults to protect the walls against mobile towers (they were flattened in the old style.

The walls there were curved outwards at the bottom to discourage tunnelling and to knock any rocks dropped from above outwards into any besieging army.

A deep dry-ditch on the land side was crossed by three massive drawbridges, leading to huge fortified gates, each with a large main entrance and a separate narrow foot-entrance the latter designed to double as sally-ports in a siege.

The whole was liberally supplied with catapults, bolt throwers and holes for archers. On the battlements there was a walk-way sheltered by crenulations and large holes for dropping rocks (and above the gates hot oil) on anyone below who the king or his men thought might be in any way less than friendly.

The harbour and docks were formed in the shelter of one side of the bluff and were enlarged by seawalls. One wall of the fortress towered high above the docks far below. The only exit road from the docks was guarded by a solid-looking wall with a fortified gate and then it climbed, zigzag, up the cliff to arrive on the landward side just outside the walls.

The palace itself was a spacious well-fortified citadel, set at the rear of the city. It shared the west wall of the fortress-city but rose high above it. It had a clear view of the Aegean in the west and the Hellespontos in the north. Hakeem wasn't surprised to find out there were a number of clever secret passages in the seemingly solid cliffs that he had not known about.

This was good, this was very good!

Hakeem asked the king and captain, a string of technical questions. He didn't comment much but he obviously wasn't missing anything. Leandros's boys watched Hakeem as he measured with his eyes the coverage afforded by catapults and arrow slots, looked at angles, looked at accesses, measured thicknesses and checked siege engines.

He seemed to be trying to memorise different aspects of the fortifications. He was smiling and his eyes sparkled as they darted backwards and forwards, checking distances and approaches and counting off under his breath the number of men and equipment needed in different situations.

It was taking a long time and the morning was starting to wear on. Leandros was more than content to let him go and Hakeem appeared in no hurry but the children, Euripides and Hypatos, could barely contain themselves.

When they first met Hakeem almost three years ago, they hated him as one of the victors of a war against their city, but mostly they were badly frightened of him.

To the small boys, he was huge. He was terrifying to watch as he practised, or when giving a demonstration. At one time they thought much of Helios's army must have been made up of warriors like Hakeem. That must have been why their father had lost!

When they finally did approach Hakeem, to their surprise they found him friendly and helpful. Most of the other adults regarded the young children as little more than nuisances. Hakeem seemed to enjoy their company and he clearly loved to teach.

Very soon, much to everyone's amusement, Hakeem had developed two young shadows that followed him everywhere. They had watched him in open-mouthed hero worship and never seemed to tire of chattering away or asking endless questions and Hakeem never showed signs of wearying of them.

Now they knew their father's kingdom was in grave danger and after almost two years Hakeem suddenly appeared in the night with the Elf Queen that he had married and a daughter! It had caused great excitement. So, what did their Hakeem think of their chances against not one but two invading armies?

Euripides eventually asked. Well, what do you think of our city?

Hakeem jerked up; for a moment he had forgotten his audience.

The fortifications are excellent! Hakeem replied with evident satisfaction, smiling broadly and tousling the boy's hair. He knew they would be.

He didn't tell the boys what he thought of the sad state of the city itself or the once mighty Troian army. He didn't need to.

The change was heartbreaking … and frightening!

Troia had been the centre of a rich kingdom, fed by conquest.  The peace terms were generous and demand for reparations kept to a minimum but the loss of the recent war had devastated the city. There simply was not enough time to recover before the Makedónes had blocked trade with the Hellás and now the Black Sea.

Troia was being starved.

Many of the shops and houses were already boarded up, and the commercial district had an abandoned feel.

The soldiers they passed were in no better shape. So few men! So very few!

Troia had long maintained one of the finest standing armies in the region. It was reinforced by levies of men and money from its subject states. Fresh conquest brought plunder and wealth, which fed its military machine.

The king had drained his treasury trying to help the recovery and now tax receipts were poor. Leandros could not afford to hire and equip mercenaries and his standing army was barely a fraction of what it was.

Troia's remaining subject states and traditional allies, the Lydoi and Bithynians, were under more immediate threat than Troia itself. Troia had been forced to send her best men led by Leandros' eldest son, Karpos, to prevent an early push by the Makedónes.

So, with a local garrison of barely twelve hundred, the city was dependent on the levy of its citizens. Levy after levy of Troians had been conscripted in the last stages of the Aiol war. In many villages, there were far too many widows and young women who could find no husband. The men that answered the call now had mostly seen too many years and some too few. Nothing else could be more convincing of Troia's desperation.

It was shocking that, even after the levy, there were barely three thousand to garrison Troia itself. Perhaps a thousand of these were prime troops.

The Athēnai would have ten thousand and more. The Makedóne army already in Bithynia had more than ten thousand. Philippos was widely expected to bring a second wave of maybe three times that, all of them professional soldiers.

The West coast of Anatolē was facing an invasion that might total over fifty thousand of battle-hardened troops and Troia was the main prize.

The fear in the city was palpable.

Most of the city folk looked grim or even haunted. No few were already loading possessions into carts, to make the journey to the cities south.

If we can't stop them here, Hakeem thought as he watched them packing, you won't find safety in the south.

Towards the end of the inspection Hakeem and Leandros were inspecting a row of troops proudly lined up. Between two ancient veterans grinning at him with toothless smiles was a very young boy.

How old are you, son? Hakeem asked.

Eighteen years old, sir, came the immediate reply!

Hakeem looked at the boy, barely fourteen. I don't see your beard.

That's because I shave, sir! was the quick-thinking reply.

The veterans surrounding the lad were having trouble keeping straight faces. It was going to be several years before shaving was necessary.

And you, old timer?

The grizzled veteran offered a toothless grin. Forty, sir!

"That makes you younger than your decadarchos (sergeant). Am I to believe that?"

The veteran screwed up his face and sucked at his gums as he considered his sergeant. I don't think so, sir!

Hakeem had to smile. Common people were illiterate and wouldn't know their true age, but this man was closer to sixty. Hakeem's heart felt like bursting with love for these brave and loyal people. He raised his voice so all nearby could hear.

Some of you seem to have some trouble working out your age! There was a ripple of amusement.

He took a big breath and his voice rang out loudly in the morning air. I want to tell you, all of you that before me stand the finest patriots I have ever had the privilege to meet. I am honoured to join such a valiant people. Greek Troia has never fallen to an enemy and it never will; not while it is served by hearts as great as yours.

A mighty cheer rang out, and Hakeem smiled warmly at the troop's enthusiasm. He privately planned to keep these men safely behind the walls of Troia, and well away from any close action.

The Makedónes would not come soon. If the Athēnai attacked Troia before it was reinforced Hakeem knew he could hold the city till help arrived, but he prayed it wouldn't come to that.

Chapter 2: Zoe and the Great Elf Queen

Elana didn't know how long she slept, but the sun was well up and the room warm when she woke. She could hardly move. She was stiff and aching everywhere. Her back and legs felt as if she had been beaten. Her buttocks, her groin and between her legs felt on fire.

From the saddle she had developed blisters, which had no chance to heal. Now there was a large area that was raw and bleeding and infection had surely set in. She had ignored it all. It had been just another source of misery as she rode, exhausted and aching to her very soul.

Waiting for her to wake were three anxious maids. They had never seen an elf, let alone the Great Elf Queen of the Prophecy! They waited at the entrance to her room, not knowing if they should come in, or whether this would give offence.

Inwardly Elana groaned. She pushed herself up in the bed with difficulty. When she smiled and greeted them, they almost jumped in fright. The elf queen speaks Greek!

How could she make them understand her problem, she wondered? When she explained she needed to treat some injuries from riding, the younger two fled. The older one bowed solemnly, and left without a word.

Not knowing what to do, Elana struggled stiffly out of bed and limped around uncertainly. She had been given a magnificent room.  The ceiling had a mural of a hunting scene; the walls plastered and painted in soft autumn colours. There was a beautiful mosaic of the sea and its creatures, on the floor.

It was furnished with several intricately carved chests, a spare couch (kline) against the wall, tables and stools covered with fleece. They were all elegantly made and many were shining with a pearl-shell inlay. Before losing the recent war, Troia had been one of the wealthiest local kingdoms.

The room opened onto a balcony with a wonderful view of the sea. Spring had come to Troia far earlier than Elgard, her mountain home. A breeze was gently blowing the silk curtains and she could hear the call of the gulls.

The night before, she just couldn't stay awake no matter what. She couldn't even remember if she was attended by maids or not before she flopped across the kline (bed), instantly asleep. Fine cotton sheets from Aígyptos had been placed to protect the bed and she looked in dismay at the dirty mess she had made of them.

She couldn't find any sign of her saddle bags, so all she had were her grubby riding clothes that she still wore. Her undergarments were stuck to her wounds and she hadn't been able to remove them for days.

Hakeem had coated Elana and Jacinta's feet in foul-smelling black grease, and packed them with several layers of socks to keep on till the journey's end. They were now set solid. Her feet were tender but better than she expected.

Elana didn't want anyone to see her in such a horrible state but attending to it herself was far beyond her, even if she didn't feel so weak and sore.

The youngest maid shyly pushed the door open and tentatively entered, carrying towels, powder, soaps and oils. The young girl could hardly take her eyes off Elana, and almost walked into one of the small tables.

This wouldn't do!

Before she could scurry off, Elana called gently to her. Please stay, what is your name?

Eudokia, great Lady.

Eudokia was terrified. She looked hunted and kept flashing glances towards the exit.

Did you know Eudokia means 'you look pretty'? It's a lovely name and you really do look pretty!

Eudokia blushed crimson, pleased.

Eudokia, please call me Elana when we are alone. I need some clothes to wear. Before that I will need salt in my bath and then ointments and dressings. I have galloped on a horse for over two weeks and I have a rash that is awkward, for such a great Lady as you call me. Elana gave her a wry smile, and she got an uncertain chuckle from the Greek girl.

My clothes are stuck to the rash and I have been unable to change. You'll have to hold your nose, I'm sorry. Elana said with a grimace, feeling the heat of shame in her face.

She chatted to the maids as they carried in a sitting bath and got everything ready. To their surprise they found the feared elf queen pleasant and friendly.

Zoe, the eldest maid, surveyed the state of Elana's clothes and socks grimly. They were stiff and discoloured and smelt. She suspected what she was going to find underneath and took over in a business-like way.

Removing the boots required all tugging at once but that was the easy part. The socks near the skin were stuck to the scabs. They cut away as much as they could and then they soaked her feet in hot sea water.

Elana made no complaint as she forced her feet into the steaming water, clenching her jaw, flushed and sweating.  As the socks eventually came off they pulled at the wounds. Elana had to bite her lip and hold her body stiff, even then it was hard not to gasp or flinch. Her maids knew they were hurting her and became tentative.

Just continue, don't stop! Elana commanded harshly, and tried to squeeze her eyes against the tears.

Eventually the remainder of the socks were removed. Her feet were raw and bleeding and discoloured, but better than she had a right to hope.

I'm sorry to give this distasteful task to you, please forgive me, she whispered hoarsely, head bowed and eyes averted.

Zoe had noted the pain the brave queen endured without complaint.

My Lady, if you can stand it, then so can we. I've seen worse. It hurts me to see you have treated your beautiful body so, but now you have no choice! You can't sit a horse with grease on your seat. Your clothes are stuck and to remove them will be far worse. You have infection. I will send for a healer who will give you a potion. What follows now, no one should endure.

Even to Zoe, her voice sounded hard.

Elana panicked, snatching frantically at Zoe's sleeve. No, Zoe. Please don't call anyone else.

The maids' hearts went out to her, seeing her so distressed.

You may see me as a great queen, Elana said, tearfully. But you don't know, you just can't know. I am no stranger to pain and humiliation. I trust you three. I can't stand the thought of more seeing me like this. I'll try to be brave ... ignore me if I cry out.

Then you are thrice a damned fool! Zoe shouted angrily. The other maids were shocked. To speak thus to a queen could get her hung.

"First you're a fool for refusing opion (opium), second you're a fool if you don't know you are the bravest person I've met, and third you're a fool to treat your beautiful body so, even if I am one of those people you have done so for."

Elana was fighting her tears, Thank you Zoe. I don't know about beautiful or brave. Having you here helps more than you know. Forgive me if I make noise, I'll try my best. She looked around at the other two in her shame and distress. Tears were running freely down her cheeks. You are so kind to me!

Her shirt and pants were cut away, but the discoloured cotton undergarment was immovably stuck. Zoe looked in dismay as she gave it an experimental tug.

The next two hours were ones of torment and anguish for all concerned. Eudokia and the other maid, Aglea, found themselves crying with what they had to do.  In the end all three maids felt exhausted and sick with the pain they had inflicted. Elana stood naked before them, pale and trembling violently and near collapse. Her buttocks were angrily inflamed and bleeding. The water ran red with blood.

Oh, great Lady! Zoe was appalled. What have you done?

We had to get here in a hurry. I ignored the pain, Elana said, miserable and humiliated.

Zoe was horrified. My Lady, you are so beautiful, but you might be left with discoloured flesh or even scarring!

Elana bent her head and started to cry. I just had to do it, Zoe.

Now you listen to me! Zoe shouted in anger. I've had enough of this! This has to be done properly. I am sending for a healer and you will do what you are told!

Elana stiffened, and then her shoulders slumped, defeated.

You are right, she said in a small voice. Shivering, she smiled sadly.

"I am being silly but if you knew all I've been through, you would understand."

Then Elana, the great lady, queen of the mighty Eastern Elves, found herself being given a very solid scolding as grandmotherly Zoe took charge.

Zoe sent the other two scurrying to get special salves and a priestess known as a healer. Elana found herself bathed and cleaned, given a potion whether she wanted it or not and firmly ordered to bed.

She had to lie on her side with thick layers of ointment applied. She felt warm, a little sleepy, but she had to admit, much more comfortable.

It was then Zoe realised with a fright who she had been ordering around. Zoe, a spinster, had been the nurse of the king's sons. Her fussy mothering was fondly tolerated by those that knew her but she had seriously overstepped the mark.

Elves were known to be difficult and arrogant and this was their queen.

My Lady, she started gruffly, colouring slightly. I hope one such as yourself don't take offence from all I've said. I'm a plain woman and speak my mind, sometimes too much, I know. I've no business scolding such a great lady, especially as what you have done, you have done for us. We are grateful to you.

Elana motioned for her to come closer, tears starting again in her eyes.

She caught at the old lady's hands and kissed them. Then she reached up and pulled Zoe to her with surprising strength. She hugged her for a long time, and kissed the old woman on the cheeks.

Zoe, you reminded me of my nursemaid when I was small and needed looking after. It only showed you cared. You were right, I was being silly. Please don't stop! And thank you, thank you all! she said, looking at the other two gratefully, tears still in her eyes.

Well, well, Zoe thought, so much for the difficult elves.

Elana wasn't like a great lady at all.

Then Zoe stopped that thought.  The titles great Lord and great Lady were given automatically. Elana, the Great Elf Queen, was humble yet brave.

She had unselfishly sacrificed herself for mere humans. Even in her suffering, she showed concern and affection for those many a human queen would think were beneath notice.

This didn't mean that Elana was not 'great'.

Elana was in a class all of her own.

Elana was prophesised to be the greatest queen the Western Elves ever had. She was a queen with a heart. She could love all and be loved by all. She would bring union not only between elves and humans, but also between nobles and common folk, servants and masters.

And it was her that had come to them now, come to their city in its greatest peril!

When Zoe finally left her charge to arrive in the servant dining room, she was mobbed.

Interest in the elf queen was intense. To the people of the Troia the elves were mythical beings. Most had never seen one. Yet few did not feel a powerful connection with the Elder Race who in a way defined the soul of Troia.

An elf icon was only second to the dolphin as an undying symbol of the city. They were the most popular good luck charms. The favourite toys for little girls were elf dolls, and most of the citizens were raised on the countless stories of the golden age of Elvish Troia before its fall: stories of love, of great elf kings and queens and great adventures of bravery and magic.

Now, when all hope seemed lost, the elves with their kings and queens had emerged out of legend; not only to walk in the daylight, but to stand shoulder to shoulder in the defence of the city.

Despite the affection the people of Troia had for elves, expectations were that their queen would be alien, difficult to please and contemptuous of humans, especially to mere servants. What Zoe reported had her audience amazed.

The elf queen was polite, humble and gracious, far more than any human queen. And she was so brave! She had sacrificed herself to come to help, suffering abuse to her lovely body.

Zoe was the most influential amongst the servants and as she sang Elana's praises, the rumours spread quickly through the palace and then the city. Each word, each act of the elf queen was analysed and marvelled at.  As the rumour spread, the common people of Troia fell in love with Elana, the beautiful queen of the Eastern Elves.

Meanwhile, Elana slept, exhausted and oblivious. Eudokia stayed faithfully by the side of her new mistress, watching over her.

* * *

When she awoke Elana felt the cleanest she had been for weeks. She smelt strongly of powerful ointments, but at least she no longer smelt like a sweaty horse!

Her wounds were starting to itch maddeningly, and she longed for nothing more than to give them a good scratch under her bandages. She clenched her hands together to stop herself.

For the moment Elana was still too sleepy to talk; she lay dozing on her side. Leandros was a widower and there would be no great lady of the palace to visit her. How long would her isolation last?

Eudokia brought some bread and fruit, as this was all Elana thought she could eat, but she found she was ravenously hungry, and ate most of a small loaf of the fresh bread all by herself.

That at least was a healthy sign!

At first Eudokia was overawed by the queen but it didn't take long before she found herself chatting about her family, her sweetheart, and life as a maid in the great Troian Palace. Elana was such pleasant company, genuinely interested and attentive.

A little later Jacinta's maid, Timo, poked her head cautiously in and then gestured behind her. Jacinta waddled in with difficulty, swathed in bandages under her night gown.

Is she gone? Jacinta said, cautiously looking around.  I'd just got back to sleep after meditating, when this old grandma burst in with a priestess, demanding to see my bottom. I had no idea what it was about. I wondered if it was some strange greeting custom Troians had for their guests.

Eudokia and Timo were overcome with giggling.

That was Zoe and I was too scared to argue with her, I can tell you! Elana replied chuckling.  I hope she doesn't come back and catch me doing the wrong thing.

Eudokia and Timo recounted several amusing anecdotes of Zoe charging in and taking control irrespective of rank, and much to the surprise of her intended patient. Soon the four were chatting like old friends.

Elana was amused to think that their bottoms had become such a topic of conversation.

As long as we aren't asked to show them at Leandros's court! she said pulling a face. I may need Hakeem. They thought I might get discolouration or even scarring.

If you trust me, Mother, I am Hakeem's apprentice and am accepted to be a student paladin. I managed something during my morning meditation. It took time, as I'm nowhere near as powerful as Father but my bottom seemed only mildly chaffed. They seemed rather disappointed, but I ended with all sorts of ointments and being bundled up and dosed anyway.

Elana looked at Jacinta in surprise, so young and showing signs of the power. She nodded enthusiastically. Why couldn't Jacinta have come earlier?

Her need to go through more suffering and humiliation, obviously … Karma no doubt! 

Well, some days this Karma that Hakeem kept talking about could be a real treasure.  (The elvish word Elana used in her thoughts was rude and it didn't mean treasure.)

The Troian maids were looking puzzled. Elana realised there would be no way of keeping this healing a secret.  The best way to stop awkward questions was to ensure that everyone knew about it.

Timo and Eudokia, can you keep a secret? she asked.

The two Troian girls smiled and nodded conspiratorially. Elana knew that this would guarantee the secret would travel through the palace like wildfire. At least, when she made a rapid recovery, everyone would be busy pretending not to notice.

If you could leave us for a little while, we want to try a healing.

Elf magic!

The girls' faces lit up in wonder and delight. They were all smiles and lots of Great Queen and my Princess (Jacinta had no success explaining she wasn't a princess). The two maids left hurriedly, almost running into furniture and each other as they tried to leave backwards, bowing as they went. They were in a rush to tell their friends the latest!

Jacinta watched the hurried exit shaking her head and chuckling. Of course you realise, Mother, that you have ensured tales of our bottoms will become the stuff of legends!

Elana smiled wryly at her daughter. 'T-A-I-L-S' you mean. I hope we will be remembered for something better than our bottoms, before all this is over.

* * *

It was the third day after they arrived, and a turn of the hour-glass after dawn when Jacinta found the training ground for young recruits. Hakeem had sent her to meet the Hoplomachos (drill sergeant), Hermokrates.

Hakeem seemed excited that someone of Hermokrates's reputation had agreed to teach Jacinta the use of the spear and shield. He said he was a legend amongst drill sergeants. He had been supposed to retire, but instead he had taken over the training of the Troian youth.

When Jacinta arrived, there were three obvious novices, already waiting. They looked like solid farm boys but it was easy to see fear in their eyes. Most of the boys that Jacinta could see already training were older and bigger than her, some virtually young men. All seemed curious to see a young girl wandering around the training ground.

Hermokrates was attending to some business and was due later. As Jacinta was working out what to do, she noticed a large, muscular boy, almost the size of a man, had stopped practising. He was standing, watching her, arms crossed, favouring her with a sneer. She looked straight back at him with a bored look on her face.

What are you looking at? he jeered. Get on about your business!

I have been sent to seek Hermokrates, she said, looking at some of the boys sweating away in the dust.

Well, he's not here right now, so why don't you go back to the kitchen? Why do you want to see him, anyway?

Well, I don't think it's any of your concern, unless he left you in charge. I have been sent to learn the throwing spear.

At that, many of the nearby boys stopped their practice and some started to drift closer to get a good look at 'the girl'.  Jacinta found it more than a little disconcerting to be the only girl surrounded by so many boys, many bigger than her.

And what would you know about the use of a spear? The big boy sneered.

Well, if I knew a lot about the spear, I wouldn't have to learn it, now would I? Jacinta replied sweetly, and gave him an exaggerated smile.

Some of the boys laughed. The audience was growing now, watching the two of them.

The bully scowled. He walked up, so he could stand over her. He'll not waste his time with a girl. You'll never be a warrior, and you'll never learn to kill anyone in battle.

Well it looks like you are going to be proven wrong on all three counts, Jacinta replied, keeping her voice sweet. Anyway it's up to Hermokrates and I'll wait for him here. Don't you have practice you are supposed to be doing … or haven't you seen a girl before?

So, you say you've been in battle, how many have you killed?

Jacinta was outraged. She stepped back a little to eye him up and down and give him a real piece of her mind!

How can you even talk like that? Having to kill people is a terrible thing, nothing to boast about. For your information, I've killed four men for sure, maybe five, but my mother and I shot the same man. Though if you have ever killed someone you wouldn't talk like that, unless you have some sickness of the mind. She spat the last words at him angrily. What a stupid boy!

He looked back at her in shock.

Well that certainly shut him up! said a strong voice behind her. Hello Jacinta, I didn't expect to see you today. I expected … well … er ... The old man coughed, trying not to mention elf magic.

I see you have already met Kryiakos. I've only had him for ten days, not long enough to knock sense into him yet. He still thinks he knows everything. Hermokrates fixed Kryiakos with a steady gaze, till the boy looked away and went back to practice.

Hermokrates was a grizzled old veteran with a limp, but he looked strong. Jacinta remembered how strong father Omar was. Yes sir, I'm sorry I allowed him to irritate me.

That needed to be said, he just doesn't listen. Hermokrates sighed. "Well, he'll learn, I suppose.

Your father speaks very highly of you and says you're a quick learner. I've watched your father at practice, and I've honestly never seen the like! Though someone like me shouldn't make comment on my betters.

He speaks of you with great admiration, sir, Jacinta replied respectfully.

Well, does he now? Hermokrates said, pleased. I've only taught a few girls, but two were amongst the best warriors I've trained. I'll look forward to seeing how you go.

Then he passed over her to talk to the other three recruits.

After this, he called the whole class together. There were fifty-six in all. Several of the older boys were used to supervise the newer recruits. She sat with the four newcomers in the front row. Kryiakos took his place amongst the other novices with some reluctance.

"Most of the older boys have heard all this but they will hear it again. Hakeem has asked me to train you as peltastae (light infantry) not hoplitai (Greek heavy infantry), so some of you may have to forget what you have already learnt elsewhere." All three of the new boys looked disappointed, Hermokrates just smiled and continued.

"Most of you will know this, but I'll say it anyway. The Greek peltastae, which will include you, are unarmoured and carry a light wicker shield covered with hide. They are armed with four or more throwing spears, 'haenschos'.

"Those of you who aren't Greek will never be able to say it properly. So I don't have to put up with your mangled Greek, call it a 'throwing spear' or use the Keltoi name, Javelot (Javelin).

"Each unit is named after their aspis (shield). Peltastēs (singular) for the peltē and hoplitēs for the heavy hoplon shield."

Jacinta made a mental note to correct her accent for the local dialect. They tended to drop the h. The ho in hoplites was said as a rough-breathing o, (more like 'oplitēs).

Non-Greeks also kit their peltastae with swords, sometimes thrusting spears and sometimes armour as well, but that would only slow us down. Can any of you new recruits tell me why peltastae make the most popular Greek mercenary?

Well sir, Jacinta started, as he acknowledged her. She paused as she thought how to reply. "Not just Greek but also the Thrakes (Thracians) make the best peltastae. Greeks are superb athletes and the peltastae are chosen from the young and fit.

"A peltastēs (singular) can run faster and fight for longer than any other infantry unit. Over boulders and gullies or in forests, they are superior to cavalry. A peltastēs, unlike an archer, has a shield. The weight of the javelin makes it much more lethal than an arrow. A solid hit is always disabling, if it's the thorax without armour it is almost a guaranteed kill … eventually. If it hits the hoplon shield, the point twists, so it's hard to pull out. It's almost impossible for your enemy to do this while they are in formation, or engaged in battle, but until they do, their shield is more a handicap than a help."

Good, you really know your stuff. The new recruits, you will learn to be peltastae, who would rather be hoplitai? Hermokrates enquired.

Kryiakos put up his hand. That's what I came here for. My father and grandfather were hoplitai and anyone knows they are better.

Jacinta, are hoplitai better?

It depends on the situation, sir, they certainly can be but each unit has its strengths and weaknesses. In the Peloponnesian war the finest hoplitai of all time, the Spartan elite units, were defeated on two occasions by an equal force of Attik peltastae. The Spartan heavy infantry had no missile troops and couldn't catch the Athēnai light skirmishers over the uneven ground. If they could have, there would have been no contest.

Now some of you others, what's the most important part of a hoplitai kit?

The spear, of course! Kryiakos replied smugly.

Well, said Hermokrates. You are forgiven for thinking so. But the hoplon is the most important part of the hoplitēs gear. Why has the hoplon a layer of bronze added ... Jacinta?

To make it heavier, sir, Jacinta replied.

Kryiakos laughed in exaggerated loudness. To make it heavier, she says! They want to make it stronger, of course.

"No, Jacinta's right. Thick leather layered and properly prepared is hard to cut, it stretches back. It's more than good enough for a shield over properly seasoned wood or for some light shields over densely woven, specially prepared and reinforced wicker.

Metal is added to make the shield heavier and to give it a hard edge. It can't be knocked aside so easily and it can be used as a weapon, for ramming. It is so heavy it needs to be rested on the shoulder in battle.

Kryiakos gave Jacinta a look of pure spite but she completely ignored him.

Hermokrates was continuing, showing them the hoplon. You pass your arm through the leather loop in the middle and grasp the strap at the top. This gives you two points of contact and allows you to wield it, he said, demonstrating by moving the shield back and forth with perfect control and balance. It's very heavy and takes a lot of strength, he emphasised.

"Now I'll tell you about hoplitēs armour. It is usually layered, quilted linen stiffened with glue. The Thrakes and Illyroi use leather. We use linen triarii (greaves) to guard the shins. Why not full bronze armour?"

Well sir, Jacinta answered again. "The main protection for a warrior is the shield. Linen specially prepared and layered will handle all