Greek Warriors Read Online Free PDF Page B

jumped out of the alcove so suddenly that the boy dropped some of his logs with a clatter.
    â€œHello there!” Tom said in a friendly voice. He tried to think of the sort of thing his dad would say to a stranger he’d just met. “Nice evening, isn’t it!”
    The boy looked at Tom and frowned. Then he glanced up at the moon and shrugged. “Yes, I suppose it is,” he said. “I’m Hermon. I haven’t seen you round here before. Who are you?”
    Tom stooped to gather up the fallen wood. “I’m Tom. This is Isis,” he said, pointing to Isis, who was stroking Cleo. “We were out for a walk and got lost. Where are you heading with this heavy load?”
    Hermon wedged the tall pile of wood underneath his chin. “I’m just taking some firewood to the palace,” he said. “That near where you want to go?”
    Tom looked over at Isis, who suddenly sat bolt upright. “Priam’s palace?” Tom asked.
    Hermon chuckled. “The one and only.”
    Isis bounded over to them. She grabbed some of Hermon’s logs. “Let us help carry these. We’ll walk with you to the palace,” Isis said, looking sideways at Tom and winking.
    Hermon shovelled a pile of logs into her arms until Isis started to buckle at the knees.

    â€œHang on! I said I’d help!” she grumbled. “I didn’t say I’d take
all
of them.”
    Tom stuffed a pile of wood under his arm. “Thanks, Hermon. I think Priam’s palace might be just the direction we need to head towards!”
    Together, Tom, Isis, Cleo and Hermon trudged through the moonlit warren of alleys and silent squares. Isis told Hermon a story about having travelled from Egypt to visit her uncle, a trader who had sailed across the sea, selling exotic goods, until he met a Trojan woman and settled down. The story was so convincing, even Tom started to believe it!
    Finally they ambled down an olive tree-lined road that led to the back of the palace.
    â€œIf you don’t mind helping me into the servants’ quarters with these,” Hermon said, “I can probably sort you out with some goat’s milk and bread for your trouble.”
    Tom couldn’t believe their luck. He nodded vigorously. “You bet,” he said. “Let’s go.”
    Hermon led them into the hustle and bustle of the palace kitchens. Even at that late hour, servants darted to and fro, preparing food by the light of flaming torches. But just as Tom and Isis piled their logs next to the fire in the centre of the room, the sound of angry men’s voices started to bounce off the stone walls. Tom strained to hear where the sound was coming from.
    â€œI’m going to burn this palace down, and everyone in it!” one of the men bellowed.
    Were they Greek soldiers?
Tom wondered in alarm. Oh no! How would they ever find the amulet if the palace was under attack?

“Let’s run away before we get burned to a crisp!” Tom yelped.
    Isis snatched up Cleo. “Quick! Where can we hide?” she asked Hermon.
    Hermon chuckled and shrugged. “Hide? You’re kidding, aren’t you? They always argue like that.”
    Tom frowned. He breathed deeply, willing his heartbeat to slow down. “What? Who?”
    â€œKing Priam and his son, Paris,” Hermon said. “The king blames Paris for starting the war with the Greeks because he stole Helen from Menelaus of Sparta. Don’t worry. Nobody’s going to burn the palace down.” Hermon wiped his hands on his tunic.
    â€œImagine that! King Priam’s just down that corridor!” Tom said, blinking hard as he stared into the gloom beyond the kitchen.
    Hermon nodded. “Yes. That’s right. It’s not that exciting, though.” He pointed to a stool by the wall. “Sit there out of the way. I’ll get you something to eat.”
    Isis dashed over to the stool and sat down. Tom pinned himself to