Free Troy 02 - Shield of Thunder by David Gemmell

manure, let go of his oar and leaned over the side, emptying his belly into the sea. Banokles ran down the narrow gap between the pigpen and the rowers.
    “I can take his place for a while,” he shouted.
    “Do it, lad,” Bias called out.
    Odysseus moved down from the foredeck as Leukon made his way toward the rear of the ship, away from the stench. Kalliades saw the largest of the pigs pushing through the herd toward Odysseus. Rearing up, it placed its front legs on the horizontal mast and squealed loudly. Leukon was passing by. Angrily he lashed out, his huge hand cracking against the pig’s snout. The animal gave a mighty scream and scrambled over the makeshift fence, launching itself at Leukon. All the pigs began to snort and squeal. Leukon was hurled from his feet, but he kicked out at the lunging pig, desperate to keep it away from him. The rower immediately to the left rose from his seat to aid his comrade. The pig lunged at him, then scrambled up onto the low rowing bench. Its trotters slid helplessly on the sleek wood, and before anyone could reach it, the beast plunged squealing into the sea.
    Odysseus, furious now, ran at Leukon. “Why did you hit the pig?” he shouted.
    “It annoyed me!” Leukon responded angrily.
    “Ah,” Odysseus said. “Well, that’s fine, then. Something annoys you and you hit it. Did it make you feel better?”
    “Yes.”
    Without another word Odysseus threw a straight left that hammered into Leukon’s face, hurling the man from his feet once more. He hit the deck hard and lay there blinking in shock. “Well, you were right this time, dung brain,” Odysseus said. “I
do
feel better.” Swinging to the crew, he said: “Now let’s get Ganny back on board.”
    At the beginning the task seemed simple. Several of the crewmen dived into the water, and looped ropes were lowered, ready to be tied around the errant pig. But every time the crewmen swam toward him, he attacked them, butting and biting. Finally Odysseus took off his golden belt and leaped into the sea himself.
    Another huge flock of dark birds soared above the
Penelope.
Then the ship began to tremble. Kalliades grabbed for the rail. The wind died down, yet the sea, so calm only moments before, was choppy and uneven. Kalliades heard a distant rumble and saw boulders tumbling down a hillside on the nearest island.
    Piria was staring at the distant avalanche. She looked at him. “Someone the gods loved just died,” she said. “Now they stamp upon the earth in their anguish.”
    The men in the sea had forgotten the pig and were swimming swiftly back to the
Penelope.
Odysseus was hauled back to the deck and stood there glowering down at the pig.
    “It’s only one beast. It is not worth risking the ship for,” Bias said. “That earthquake will bring some ship-cracking waves in its wake.”
    Odysseus swung toward Leukon. “The cost of that pig comes from your share,” he said. “Any complaints?”
    “No, my king.”
    “Good! Oarsmen to your places.”
    Heavy clouds were massing above the
Penelope,
but there was no rain. The wind was stronger, the sea less calm. The ship began to sway with the swell, and the rowers were forced to work hard to head for a narrow bay on the headland of Titan’s Rock. Odysseus had returned to the steering oar, while Bias walked along the deck calling out the beat.
    “Lift…set…pull.”
    Kalliades saw Piria looking back over the sea. “Can you still see it?” he asked.
    “Yes. A long way back.”
    Kalliades scanned the surging sea. Every now and again he saw a dark shape appear and then be hidden by the waves.
    “You think it might make it to the shore?” Piria asked.
    “No. It will die out there.”
    “How sad.”
    “No sadder than being slaughtered to feed a family. All living creatures must die. This is his time.” He smiled then. “You are concerned for a pig?”
    Piria shrugged. “He has a name. Ganny. So he is not just a pig anymore.”
    Odysseus was also glancing