Penthesilea's Wish: [Vol. 3]

Chapter Thirty-six

(Inside the gates of ancient Troy, 1241 BCE)

Penthesilea returned to the main square inside the walls of the Trojan city. There she found her twelve warriors standing by their horses. Both animals and Amazons seemed refreshed, as her child-hood friend, Klonie, confirmed to her that they had all been well-fed and the horses watered. A crowd of children and many palace servants had gathered quietly to view the elusive women warriors. Across the courtyards, at a distant area of the citadel, an immense staging area was busily preparing troops, cavalry and chariots for the day's assault upon the Greek forces outside.

It was reported to Penthesilea by Bremousa as they mounted their war-horses and gathered into formation, that the men inside the walls had received word the Daughters of the Moon would be accompanying their forces out of the gates. The news had spread like a fire she told her, igniting spirits and quickening steps. The Trojan forces had begun feeling the confidence that they would be in the company of Ares' own fair daughter this day—Penthesilea's own legacy as an Amazon queen.

Several moments later the women were approached by a tall, helmeted man in heavy armor and himself on horseback. He identified himself as Polydamus, close friend of the late Hector, and one of the chief commanders of the Trojan army. He invited Penthesilea and her warriors at the behest of his war council to follow him to the staging area where they would be first out onto the wide plain. As the line of horses and warriors passed in front of the waiting and positioned soldiers, the men began to cheer at their presence. Penthesilea and her sisters could see the hope and excitement in their faces being contagiously ignited. The women could feel in the air this new-found exuberance as they were being called once more to arms. The look in the Trojan army's eyes as they joined the charioteers, steadying their horses, was not the trepidation and rage they had been used to seeing among men so close to battle. For all of Penthesilea's women it was the first expressions they had seen of welcome and camaraderie, among these, the more brutal sex. The Amazons who had now donned their helmets shook off this collaborative image which they saw as false, for they knew a more familiar view of man in combat awaited them just ahead. And they knew those more familiar expressions would come straight away when they charged seaward to intercept the waiting Greeks.

There was a general call to arms by trumpets and the quick tempo of drums which marshaled the procession. Swords and spears were made ready to fetch close-handedly as the Trojan riders were now flank to flank with Penthesilea's warriors. There was the smell of men's stale sweat and leather and horses urine as they crowded forward to pass through the narrow gateway. And at last the vanguard of the assault was galloping forward across the tired battlefield. It had been the venue of so many previous attempts, by one side or the other, to end this war through some resounding defeat. The rocky soil had been softened by blood, and by the thousands of sandals, thundering horses' hooves and the clattering of spiked chariot wheels for nine long years.

As the tension of contact rose, the mounted Amazons and Trojan generals vigorously charged the first line of Greek defenses and wooded barricades amid the battle cries of the forces behind. A line of Greeks on horseback, cheering hysterically, rode forward to counter the momentum and resolve of the offensive. At this, the first sound of arrows began to sing through the air, some striking bronze and leather shields. They flew amid the wild screams of horses which, wider and longer than their riders, met many of the points and shafts of the Greek archers cruelly and indefensibly.

One of the charioteers to the left of Penthesilea took an arrow in his neck. Reaching for the wound, he toppled over the rounded rim of the chariot, and then was trampled by the horses and wood-cleated vehicles behind. Another Trojan rider beside her fell to a shower of arrows, many glancing off the upheld shields of both Amazons and nomad mercenaries. Still another rider's horse, hit numerous times in the neck and chest by the spray of arrows fell from the weight of the pain, sending the young Trojan with his useless armor crashing to the ground and under the hooves of oncoming war-horses, all galloping forward at top speed.