Oracle by Jackie French

trying to stop them straying off the road and into the orchards or forest.
    And this, it seemed, was only one of the High King’s tribute forays; he had sent his men into every corner of the kingdom.
    Nikko walked next to Orkestres, holding Thetis’s hand so she didn’t get lost in the crowd of people and animals. But as the sun forged across the sky the procession began to straggle, and grew longer. They were no longer jostled on each side now. For a while Thetis skipped, and once turned a cartwheel, to the guards’ amusement. Finally she grew tired, and plodded beside Nikko. But her small face stayed curious, her gaze drinking in everything as they passed.
    There were no more villages—or not on the path they took. No little village could feed all these men, andhave grass for all these animals, thought Nikko. Instead they stopped each afternoon, when the men’s shadows grew as long as their owners, the guards taking turns to collect wood, or keep the animals safe during the night.
    A goat was killed for meat and basted on the fire; raisins and figs and hard dried bread were taken from the panniers. Each slept wrapped in his cloak, swords and spears at his side, except for Nikko, and Thetis, who had no cloaks, and were given cattle hides for the night.
    The ground was colder than the bed platform at home, but Nikko was tired enough to sleep on anything, and so was Thetis. Orkestres though was haggard every morning, the shadows under his eyes dark as the thunder clouds behind the mountain back at home.
    On the third day the country changed. Forest gave way to scattered trees, and open country where shepherds watched mobs of goats and cattle and new animals the colour of dust and rocks, smaller, rounder and hairier than goats.
    ‘Sheep,’ said Orkestres, when Nikko asked what they were. ‘One sheep gives as much thread for weaving as ten goats, and the meat is fattier, too…’ He grinned. ‘Your village is so high and rough only goats can live there.’
    The hill in front of them was growing closer now. Something strange ran around the edge of it, like a thick yellow band of rock. ‘And that,’ said Orkestres, before Nikko could ask another question, ‘is a road. Roads are made wide and smooth enough for carts and chariots.’
    ‘What’s a cha—’ began Nikko.
    Something was rumbling down the road. It looked like a box, but the biggest box Nikko had ever seen,pulled by a giant ox, tethered to it in some way. Big round things rolled underneath.
    ‘A cart,’ said Orkestres. ‘Close your mouth before you swallow a fly. You’ll learn. But you don’t have to learn it all at once. I’m tired. At least your sister doesn’t ask questions all the time.’
    Nikko looked over at Thetis, who was still studying the cart. I bet she thinks more questions than I speak, he thought. I bet she had worked out what that cart thing was before Orkestres told us.
    It was easier going on the road. Nikko could walk without watching where his feet went, and the ponies trotted more happily now too, knowing perhaps the end of their journey was in front of them. Occasionally another cart passed them, piled with bales of wool and jars of wine or oil. There were almost no trees now, except a line of tall saplings that looked like they’d been planted two by two along the road. Their leaves hung low so late in the year, yellow as the soft autumn light.
    Nikko sniffed. There was an odd smell, like old meat but sweeter. The ponies seemed nervous too, tossing their heads and trotting faster, despite their burdens.
    The road curved around the hill. Suddenly the ponies stopped. A line of King’s men stood across the road, swords at their sides, javelins and shields in their hands.
    ‘Stop in the name of Atreus, High King of Mycenae, and lord of all lands!’
    We’ve already stopped, thought Nikko. He glanced up at Orkestres. The acrobat’s face was white.
    ‘Don’t let your sister see,’ he whispered urgently. ‘Cover her eyes.