"Bova, Ben - Orion 07 - Vengeance of Orion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bova Ben)

battlefield had been worn bare by chariot wheels and the tramping feet of
soldiery.
For nearly a half hour, nothing much happened. Heralds went out and spoke with
each other while the dust drifted away on the wind.
"None of the heroes are challenging each other to single combat today,"
explained Poletes. "The heralds are exchanging offers of peace, which each side
will disdainfully refuse."
"They do this every day?"
"So I'm told. Unless it rains."
"Did the war really start over Helen?" I asked.
Poletes shrugged elaborately. "That's the excuse. And it's true that Prince
Aleksandros abducted her from Sparta while her husband's back was turned.
Whether she came along with him willingly or not, only the gods know."
"Aleksandros? I thought his name was Paris."
"He is sometimes called Paris. But his name is Aleksandros. One of Priam's
sons." Poletes laughed. "I hear that he and Menalaos, the lawful husband of
Helen, fought in single combat a few days ago and Aleksandros ran away. He hid
behind his foot soldiers! Can you believe that?"
I nodded.
"Menalaos is Agamemnon's brother," Poletes went on, his voice dropping lower, as
if he did not want others to overhear. "The High King would love to smash Troy
flat. That would give him clear sailing through the Hellespont into the Sea of
Black Waters."
"Is that important?"
"Gold, my boy," Poletes whispered. "Not merely the metal that kings adorn
themselves with, but golden grain grows by the far shores of that sea. A land
awash in grain. And no one can pass through the straits to get at it unless they
pay a tribute to Troy."
"Ahhh." I was beginning to see the real forces behind this war.
"Aleksandros was on a mission of peace to Mycenae, to arrange a new trade
agreement between his father Priam and High King Agamemnon. He stopped off at
Sparta and wound up abducting Helen instead. That was all the excuse Agamemnon
needed. If he can conquer Troy he can have free access to the riches of the
regions beyond the straits."
I was about to ask why the Trojans would not simply return Helen to her rightful
husband, when a series of bugle blasts ended the quiet on the plain below us.
"Now it begins," Poletes said, grimly. "The fools rush to the slaughter once
again."
We watched as the charioteers cracked their whips and the horses bolted forward,
carrying Achaians and Trojans madly toward each other.
I focused my vision on the chariot nearest us and saw the warrior in it setting
his sandaled feet in a pair of raised sockets, to give him a firm base for using
his spears. He held his body-length shield before him and plucked one of the
lighter, shorter spears from the handful rattling in their holder on his right.
"Diomedes," said Poletes, before I asked. "The prince of Argos. A fine young
man."
The chariot approaching his swerved suddenly and the warrior in it hurled a
spear. It sailed past harmlessly.
Diomedes threw his spear and hit the rump of the farthest of his opponent's four
horses. The horse whickered and reared, throwing the other three so off stride