Penelope's Secrets

Flashback 200 years

Treetop...

Scythia, the rough road beyond the hill.

Here and there, on both sides of the road, groups of men gathered round their cooking pots. The smell of smoke and food, and the sound of wood crackling and fat sizzling was just like it had been yesterday. But something was missing. As Axil threaded his way through the camp, he suddenly realised what it was. In any large group of fighting men, at the end of a long day you will hear the sound of men talking, and joking, and arguing. Tonight, there was a uniform silence. These men shared a common tragedy, and even those without families had developed a thirst which no wine could quench except the blood of their enemies.

He had been looking for Spartak, and finally found someone who had seen him, wandering up the road which lay ahead. After a mile he thought he had gone too far, but almost as he started to turn back he saw the flash of a sword up in the branches of an old oak by the side of the road.

When he reached the base, he couldn't see a way up. Spartak dropped down from the branch in which he had been reclining.

"The air is clean here" he said by way of explanation, and pointed back down the road. "After the stench of the hill."

Axil nodded. "I thought we should talk. Before the meeting."

It had been agreed by all the men, that there would be a camp meeting after the meal tonight at about ten o'clock. There plans would be made and the seeds for retribution sown. All this had been done, seemingly without many words having been spoken, as if the common will of the wronged could assert itself with one thought. There was no doubt in the minds of the men that at tonight's meeting Spartak would come up with a satisfactory plan, guided by Axil, to be sure. That absolved the men from any need to think ahead. What was the point? And that was one of the reasons why Spartak had been sitting alone up in the tree, pondering.

"You do have a plan?" Axil asked.

"Come and join me up in the tree." Spartak turned his back.

Axil hadn't seen a way up before and he couldn't see one now. Spartak had jumped down from a branch which was a good ten feet high. Too far for a man to jump from a standing start in the soft leaf mould.

Spartak fiddled with his belt and unwound something which looked like a fine black cotton thread. In the dim light under the tree it was almost invisible. Fascinated, he watched as Spartak searched for a stout piece of broken wood which he tied to one end. Using this as a weight, he swung it over the branch above. Then he adjusted the thread so that it was tied to both ends of the piece of wood, almost like a child's swing.

Axil was about to say "That won't take any weight" when he was surprised to see Spartak step up, and using the swing as the first step of a ladder, he reached the branch above and hauled himself up.

Then aloud, he did say: "That won't take my weight will it? I'm a lot heavier than you."

Spartak said nothing but smiled and reached down. Axil stood, cautiously on the swing which held firm. He wasn't worried about falling, because the height was not very far to fall. But he didn't want to make a fool of himself, and he was suspicious about this magic thread. When they were both up in the tree, Spartak pulled it behind them, untied the knots, which slipped off surprisingly easily and threw the piece of wood away to one side. He then wound the thread around the inside of his belt for safe keeping.

"I've never seen a rope as thin as that, so strong" commented Axil.

"It's a souvenir I managed to save from darker days" said Spartak.

"Darker days? I'm not sure I understand?"

"There was a time when I was seriously thinking I might hang myself with it. But a better use emerged."

"Don't tell any of my men about it then. Some of them already have the look of death about them."

"I know. I felt the same way myself once. Axil, I'm truly sorry about your wife by the way. She was a fine woman."

Axil remembered then that pain which he had been suppressing with cold anger all afternoon. He looked down at the ground, and lost his balance for a moment. Spartak gripped his arm so tight that his circulation stopped. They locked gaze. The sun was falling now, and it would soon be dark. The air was fresh in this tree. It was a different world up here.

Axil smiled and shook his head, as if to say he wasn't going to fall off now. Spartak's grip lessened. Axil remembered now how the rebellion had first started.

Spartak had been freed, for surviving a thousand kills. Unfortunately his common law wife had been excluded from this arrangement. When Spartak had tried to release her, the captain of the arena guard had been using her like a common prostitute. In the scuffle which ensued she had been killed. It was never clear how the captain had died. When his body was later found outside the city wall, his injuries were reported to be unusual. The strong thread which Axil had now seen, had clearly played a part in his demise.

"They're expecting us to come up with some kind of plan. That's why I had to come and find you."

"My best plan so far, has been that I, or should I say we, stay in this tree. Your men won't find us in the dark, and that way no-one else gets killed for a while. Unfortunately most of my plans end up with everyone getting killed."

"That doesn't sound so bad. We're gladiators after all. Death is our way of life. Just so long as we can take enough of them with us."

Spartak replied as if he were carrying on his earlier train of thought. "The only trouble with that idea, staying in the tree, is that it could start get uncomfortable with two of us sharing the same branch."

"You said most of the plans end up with everyone getting killed. Does that mean that some of them don't?"

"Let me tell you what I have in mind and you can see why I don't like it."

Axil was not a patient man, but hearing Spartak's plan was like sharing another man's dream or vision. So he sat quiet until the end.

"You really think it will work then?" he asked.

"Which bit?" asked Spartak. "It all sounds crazy to me."

"How can we be sure that the armies will meet us to fight at such and such a place and at such and such a time?"

"Oh, that's the easy bit. We just give them an invitation they can't refuse," and Spartak went on to explain what he meant.

"I like that part" purred Axil, "it has a certain style."

"We will need to work out a few more details. But if we do a bit of planning, and field work it should succeed. I wasn't suggesting that we just walk into their camp and use our negotiation skills."

"The other part of your idea, for those who survive... It has been tried before, and never worked. It would seem like suicide, except that..."

"Yes, we will have an advantage there which they would never expect..." Spartak agreed. It was dark now.

"It's time we should go back to the camp." Spartak, remembering that there was no obstacle below the tree, dropped like a stone. He stepped aside, and Axil crashed down beside him. The world was different again down here. But they were still alone. The stars were coming out.

"Shut your eyes for a few moment, and you'll see better" said Spartak.

It worked. Axil could now see the pale impression of the edges of the road.

"We can work out the rest of the details tomorrow," said Spartak as he started to head back through the cool darkness. "But do you think your men will go for it?"

Axil nodded, even though he knew that Spartak couldn't see his gesture. It was a good plan, and better than any he had come up with. The men would follow it without question. Most of them were now looking forward to a quick death in battle as a release from their emotions anyway.

"One in four?" he said again.

"That's the maximum survivors. If we tried for more than that it wouldn't work. Even one in four is optimistic, because there are bound to be casualties in that part as well. The only difference is that it's not the main suicide mission."

"They will remember this" mused Axil. "Such a blow for freedom has never been done before. I would like to ask you one favour though... I do not ask this for myself, only -" he didn't know how to beg.

"Your son, Axilka?"

"Yes?" Axil whispered.

"That's what I had in mind all along."

A sigh of relief came from Axil. The rest of the way back they walked in silence.

That night most of the camp slept with a new sense of purpose knowing exactly when they were going to die. It would not be long now that they would have to suffer parted from their loved ones. The only ones who didn't sleep until the early dawn, were the one in four chosen by fate to attempt survival.