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The messenger boy streaks off, once Teukros is satisfied that he has memorized your message. In the chaos of the dockyard, with streams of goods, carts, men and animals jostling one another along the stone walkways, you lose sight of him nearly immediately.
It’s easy for you to part the crowds, given your bulk – even wearing your cloak and chiton, you are given a wide berth, due to your physique. You return to the galleys, Teukros in tow, and proceed to your bunk within the Salaminian vessel. As far as you know, your absence was not noticed by the other party members – none were above deck when you returned, but that’s hardly reassuring. Your intestines writhe as you consider the possibility that your scheming could be discovered by Odysseus - you are learning that you greatly prefer contests on the battlefield, opposed to this sort of subtle action. At least during a duel, you know when you are winning and when you are losing. You try to calm yourself in the very cramped space of your bunk, succeeding only when you begin playing petteia against yourself within your mind.
—
You startle awake in the gloom of the hold - Teukros is sending over you, tugging at your elbow and whispering fiercely:
“Nikandros, wake up! A Trojan is on the main deck of the Spartan vessel!”
You leap out of your bunk, your drowsiness shattered into pieces, and sprint up to the main deck of the Salaminian vessel. Once above-deck, you make a show of bleariness for the crew, yawning and stumbling to the bow deck of the Salaminian vessel - the galleys are docked front to back, and so from your position, you can listen to Menelaus, Odysseus, Palamedes and the Trojan standing upon the stern deck of the Spartan ship. Teukros joins you, of course – beyond his own personal curiosity, you need his Luwian. Unfortunately, you cannot see the meeting from your angle on the bow deck. Above you, the sky is darkening – beaming Helios has nearly slipped below the waters of the west, and you see glimmering stars beginning to emerge through Nyx's raiment. As you eavesdrop, you conclude that you’ve already missed introductions, as you listen to Menelaus speaking:
“- may be the case, Helicaon Antenorides, but I am quite sure our message had been garbled by the messengers.” Palamedes, serving as interpreter, quickly translates Menelaus’ words, and Odysseus interjects before the Trojan Helicaon can respond, his melodious voice a soothing balm:
"“If there is any fault, let us blame our rough Hellenic accents and the poor pronunciation of our interpreter. We ask your forgiveness for any confusion in your οἶκος or in the court of King Priam. Please – I ask for the opportunity to apologize to your father personally.” Of course, Odysseus takes the opportunity to chip away at Palamedes’ reputation, even as he burnishes his own - the man cannot help himself.
>cont
