People of the Inner Sea (The Age of Bronze) (16 page)

White-haired Néstor shuddered at the words and tried to object.  But Agamémnon would not yield the speaker's staff to the older king.  "I will not hear any arguments against this judgment.  My word on the matter is final."  He stared down all those who would have opposed him, before going on.  "The local T'rákiyans will now be unremittingly hostile to us.  When you leave this assembly, gather your men and slaughter or drive out all those who offer any resistance.  Every Ak'áyan will have to remain on the alert for the rest of the winter.  Post guards all along the perimeter, every night.  Sleep with your swords beside you.

"Still," he went on in a lighter tone, "there is little real danger, so long as we stay together.  The T'rákiyans are only nomadic barbarians.  There are not enough of them between here and Dáwan's straits to overcome this army."

Following Agamémnon's command, the Ak'áyans now completely took over the chieftain's village, slaughtering most of the T'rákiyan men and imprisoning those few women who did not escape in the confusion.  Diwoméde oversaw the posting of sentries along the wooden palisade, a rude fence of spear shafts with fire-hardened points.

For the remainder of the winter, the men of the camp bartered with the reluctant natives, trading captured T'rákiyan women for food and wine.  Winter's storms were few that year and the snow unusually light, although the wind was bitterly cold.  Among Ak'áyans and T'rákiyans alike, the peculiar weather seemed an omen.  But what did it mean?  Although they asked each other the question often enough, no one was certain of the answer.  Most of the men could recall worse winters, times when the weather had been colder, with the snow deeper and the blizzards fiercer, times when hunger and disease had been more prevalent.  But the T'rákiyans did not dare attack, fearing the evil signs.  And all the Ak'áyans were increasingly anxious to reach their homelands to the south.

aaa

The storm month was scarcely over when the spearmen of Kep'túr broke from the rest to risk the open sea.  Idómeneyu made his excuses indirectly, through Diwoméde.  "Tell Agamémnon that I have heard more rumors of unrest on my island," the wánaks suggested.  "Explain to him that I must reach Kep'túr before the spring harvest, if I am to lead troops to Qoyotíya in the summer.  My capital city is at least a month's travel away.  So I dare not delay any longer.  Or, if you do not want to tell him that, say anything you like."  But with furtive glances at the sky, he whispered the real reason for his haste.  "I tell you truthfully, I could accept the death of chief Lukúrgu or his maiming or the murder of his son, but not all three.  Kashánda's vengeance is too much even for a hardened warrior to stomach.  The sky god punishes excess.  I am afraid Agamémnon has brought Díwo's Evil Eye down upon us."

Diwoméde tried to argue.  "No, Idómeneyu, I do not believe you are right.  These are T'rákiyans, after all, just barbarians.  Look how many have pale eyes.  And you know that is bad luck.  The world is a better place without Lukúrgu's blue-eyed, dáimon child."  But Idómeneyu was not convinced.  He and his depleted troops set out for the great southern island in a fever of anxiety.

Mesheníya's aging king, still grieving for his oldest son, was especially dismayed by the bloody events of the winter in T'ráki.  Néstor counted the atrocities as four, a most unlucky number, citing the timing of the priestess's vengeance during a festival as an additional atrocity.  The fact that it was a barbarians' feast, honoring foreign gods, meant nothing less to the shaken wánaks.  He ordered his contingent out to sea not long after Idómeneyu.  Like the Kep'túriyans, his men were trying to outrun the baleful, avenging eye of Díwo, god of the storm.

Panaléyo led his feathered Qoyotíyans to their northern home at the same time.  "We remained in T'ráki this long only to show our loyalty to the Ak'áyan alliance," he explained to the young qasiléyu.  "But we are close to home and our people are waiting.  Make the overlord understand."

Despite the many departures, the largest contingent of Ak'áyans still remained with Agamémnon.  Though the Argive king had lost a great many men in the long war, he had begun with more than any other wánaks in the country.  He had gained additional men, as well, from the shattered armies of the smaller kingdoms.  And despite the unsettling nature of Kashánda's revenge, most of the soldiers agreed with Diwoméde's assessment.  Barbarians with ill-omened, light-colored eyes did not fall under the same rules of behavior that the goddess Diwiyána decreed for civilized peoples.  There was no need to risk a sea voyage before the month of sailing.  It was not until spring was in full bloom that this final group burned its winter camp and headed south.

CHAPTER SIX

DIWOMEDE

Confident in his power, the overlord split his numerous ships into two groups when he neared his homeland.  As the Argive army camped on the shores of the isthmus between northern Ak'áiwiya and the south, on the frontier of the kingdom of Argo, the wánaks met with his most trusted troop leader.  By the fire in their final encampment, overlord and vassal discussed the future.

"I will sail on to Mukénai and deal with my wánasha," Agamémnon told his young qasiléyu.  "Klutaimnéstra is no longer to be my wife or my queen.  That is my decision.  But it may prove difficult to pry her out of my palace, just the same.  No doubt she has been plotting with disgruntled merchants and with the kinsmen of my enemies.  So I must keep the better part of my troops with me.  You will have two ships under you.  That should be enough to take an unwalled city by surprise.  I would send more with you, just to be sure, but I do not know how many supporters Klutaimnéstra has.  Still, I am not really concerned for my own safety.  Even if they are many, my wife's troops will not be battle-hardened, while mine are.  I have no doubt that I will be victorious in a very short time.  Then I will publicly marry the captive, Kashánda, and make her my queen."

"Is it wise for you to go first to Mukénai?" Diwoméde asked.  "If Klutaimnéstra truly has assembled warriors against you, will they not be strongest in your capital city?"

Agamémnon nodded with a grim smile.  "Of course they will, boy.  And that is exactly why I must go to Mukénai first, to destroy the wánasha's rebel army at once.  I intend to crush this revolt before it has really begun.  This I must do, if I am to have the freedom to leave Argo at the start of the coming summer."

Diwoméde nodded in his turn.  "Yes, wánaks, I suppose that you are right.  Now, where am I to take my two ships?  Will we attack T'eshalíya to punish Púrwo's insolence?"

"No, no, do not bother with that," the overlord grunted, squatting down on his haunches beside the open campfire.  "But you are not far wrong.  Púrwo is still a boy, so he does not have the backing of the other northern Ak'áyans.  If his father were still alive, I would be obliged to sack a few T'eshalíyan cities, just to show my strength, you understand.  But Ak'illéyu is dead, of course, and the north does not rally around his son.  So much the better for them!  No, I can afford to be magnanimous where little Púrwo is concerned, for awhile yet, at any rate.

"But this Menést'eyu is another matter entirely.  Attika is hardly a rich land, even for one of the P'ilístas' kingdoms.  But wánaks Erékt'eyu sent only a portion of his troops to support me in Assúwa.  Still, I was prepared to forget this slight.  After all, he did send best qasiléyu, Menést'eyu, and the spearman fought loyally, even when Ak'illéyu sulked in his tent.  But how can I ignore it when Menést'eyu challenges my honor, in front of the whole army?  And for what reason does he do this?  For Aíwaks!  Ai gar, the giant was no countryman of his, but the illegitimate son of a Lókriyan exile.  By 'Aidé, Aíwaks was half-barbarian, into the bargain!  His mother was not even an Ak’áyan, no, nothing but a T'rákiyan captive, a flax-picker!  And Aíwaks was my qasiléyu.  Mine!

"No, those P'ilístas do not really care a fig about avenging the giant’s death.  His own captive woman was a more likely suspect in his murder than Odushéyu was.  Ai, the It'ákan may be a pirate but he is also an accomplished archer.  I tell you, son, it would not have taken him twenty arrows to kill that big ox if he had wanted to.  The P'ilístas only see that Odushéyu has gained stature in this conflict, as have I, while they have not.  When they accused Odushéyu of killing Aíwaks, what they really wanted to do was to deprive me of a loyal vassal, cut off my right arm!  So, you see, Menést'eyu and Attika with him must be punished, to teach the rest of the north a lesson."

The young qasiléyu nodded somberly at each statement.  "So, I am to attack Attika, then?" Diwoméde asked and he nodded once more when Agamémnon assented.  "I will do my best, wánaks."

"I know you will, my son.  I can almost see At'énai burning already."

"At'énai," the young man repeated in surprise, "their capital city?  I assumed you just meant for me to burn a few of wánaks Erékt'eyu’s towns and villages.  With only fifty men, how can I take a walled fortress?"

Agamémnon chuckled, shaking a finger at the younger man.  "That is the beauty of my plan.  At'énai has no walls, you see, only terraces.  I know, I have been there.  And they will not be expecting an attack, either.  This early in the year, there will be very few people in the port town below the city.  You can slaughter them easily, to the last person.  This you must do for me, even the women and children, so that there will be no one to run ahead and warn At'énai of your coming.  March your men directly from the port to the citadel as if I had sent you to Erékt'eyu with a message.  The Attikans will welcome you into the very heart of the capital at a time when the warriors are all away overseeing their shepherds' movement of the flocks to the hills.  Your only problem will be how to carry all the booty back to your longboats.  Ai, good fortune will follow you and me, Diwoméde!  When Klutaimnéstra is dead, I will let you have one of my daughters, K'rusót'emi or Lawódika, whichever one you want.  I will make you my heir."

Diwoméde was startled.  Hesitantly, he said, "You do me a great honor, but is it not incest to marry a kinswoman?"

Agamémnon laughed.  "So far as any man knows, you are the son of my old qasiléyu, and Tudéyu was not kin to me.  Your mother certainly can be trusted to keep her mouth closed.  She would be condemned for adultery if the truth came out.  And as for me, I cannot have you traveling to distant lands in search of a holy woman with a kingdom for her dowry.  No, I need your strong arm beside me in Argo."

Unable to meet his overlord's gaze, the young man quietly said, "The gods will know, if I marry my own sister."

The wánaks laughed more loudly than before and clapped his illegitimate son on the back with a broad hand.  "Half-sister, you mean.  Idé, have you learned nothing from me, boy?  When seers talk of the will of gods, they are telling nothing but lies to serve their own whims.  Just think about what they say.  You will soon realize that it is all nonsense.  When I called up the armies of Ak'áiwiya, I told the kings that Paqúr had broken Diwiyána's laws by raping the 'Elléniyan wánasha.  It was the truth and everyone believed me, of course.  How could it be otherwise?  But now the prophets claim that Paqúr gained the 'Elléniyan queen by the will of this same Diwiyána.  How can any man believe that?  If that were the case, would she have let the us win the war?"

Diwoméde hung his head.  "Kashánda says the goddess gave the 'Elléniyan to her brother.  And Kashánda is a holy woman, even if she is a Tróyan.  She knows more about deities than I do.  How can I question her?"

Agamémnon growled and thumped the young man on his shaggy head with his thumb, "Ai gar, boy, all you have to do is use your mind.  What ridiculous story has the priestess told you?"

Reluctantly, Diwoméde repeated what he had heard from the overlord’s captive woman.  "She says that her brother, prince Paqúr, killed a white deer on Wilúsiya's sacred mountain.  Then he considered in his heart which goddess he should dedicate the animal to.  Because the deer was the most beautiful he had ever seen, he chose the goddess of the greatest beauty.  He thought of 'Éra with her white dove's wings, At'ána with the goatskin shield that she shakes before battle, or Mother Diwiyána's divine child.  Paqúr chose Kórwa, because of her golden hair, the ripe field of grain.  Since he honored the great goddess, she answered his prayers and rewarded him with the 'Elléniyan holy woman."

The wánaks roared with laughter.  "What nonsense!  What would such great creatures, who are supposed to rule over earth and sky, care about an earthly thing like beauty?  Are goddesses the same as ordinary, mortal women?  'Éra is supposed to be busy directing bird flight for seers to interpret.  This is quite a job, even for a goddess.  Do you have any idea how many birds there are in the world?  Diwiyána makes the rain fall and the grain sprout, does she not?  If she has to oversee every blade of grass and every drop of rain, she must be very busy indeed!  Neither one can be hardly concerned with one prince's opinion of her looks!  At'ána rules over fate, weaving the thread of each person’s life.  That is enough to keep her occupied night and day, not to mention bouncing men’s tokens out of helmets now and then.  By 'Aidé, my boy, you cannot listen to what prophets and seeresses tell you about the gods.  What matters in this life is your own action.  Good or evil, if you are successful in what you do, the credulous will say that the gods are with you.  If you fail, people will find something in your behavior to blame, no matter how many ceremonies you perform, no matter how fine the offerings you burn before the altars.  So do what your heart tells you, not what a seer thinks he finds in goat entrails."

"Yes, wánaks," Diwoméde responded dutifully, not entirely convinced.  "But there is one thing I must ask of you, before I go."

Agamémnon was displeased.  He raised a bushy eyebrow.  "What, you think my reward is not enough?"

"Ai, no, wánaks, that is not what I want to ask," the qasiléyu hastened to say.  "I have a captive woman and I do not want to take her to Attika with me."

Mollified, the king nodded.  "Very well, choose a man to take charge of your things and I will leave him in Tíruns to wait for your return."

"I choose T'érsite," Diwoméde said quickly.

Agamémnon laughed with surprise.  "T'érsite!  That lazy wine-sack?  Ai gar, boy, you can find someone better than that."

"T'érsite has proved himself loyal to me," the younger man explained, dropping his eyes.

His overlord eyed him suspiciously for a moment.  Then he laughed again and shrugged.  "If that is who you want, so be it."

"Thank you, wánaks," Diwoméde said and left his overlord's fireside to seek out his woman and his picked man.

T'érsite lacked the confidence of the overlord.  "It will not be as easy as that to take At'énai, not with only two shiploads of men, qasiléyu," warned the lesser-ranked man.  "The wánaks knows it, too.  He has seen you fight often enough to know that you are a warrior.  But Agamémnon is testing your ability to lead men, to think a plan through and carry it out, in the face of difficulties.  That was something Aíwaks never learned.  That is why the giant was qasiléyu only of a small island, even though he was a champion as a warrior.  You will have to do well in Attika if you want to maintain your position at Tíruns.  You need a clever strategy.  Choose your own warriors, but pick them carefully.  Push your men hard, if you want them to respect you."

"I do not expect it to be easy," Diwoméde replied testily.  "There is always a certain amount of danger in a military campaign.  But I do not need your advice.  And there is no need to look for hidden motives, either.  Agamémnon trusts me.  He knows that I would march against the gods themselves, if he told me to.  That is the real reason he chose me to lead this expedition.  It is a great honor.  I would rather die than let him down."

"Ai gar," the older man exclaimed in alarm.  "There is no need to talk of dying, qasiléyu.  You are going to fight Ak'áyans, after all, not barbarians.  If you find yourself in a hopeless situation, unable to win or to retreat safely, then just drop your weapons to the earth.  Embrace Menést'eyu's knees.  He is a qasiléyu, too, after all, and he fought beside you at Tróya.  You can count on him to show you mercy and spare your life.  Then the wánaks can ransom you."

Diwoméde was angry.  "I do not care to hear this kind of talk.  Areté may mean nothing to you, foot soldier, but it does to me.  There is no greater dishonor for a warrior than to be taken captive.  I will fight to the death before I embrace any man's knees!  Now shut your muzzle and listen to me.  You are to oversee my things and my people at Tíruns until my return."

T'érsite was a little surprised but he quickly responded, "Yes, Diwoméde.  Does that include Dáuniya?"

"It does," the younger man answered, his anger lessening.  "One more thing, T'érsite, in the morning, I will need one more poppy jug.  Hide it in my helmet.  But tell no one about this, not even Dáuniya, especially not her."

Shortly after dawn the following day, T'érsite stood with Dáuniya on the shore.  The two of them watched solemnly as Diwoméde's warriors rowed a pair of black longboats toward the northeast.  His hand at his forehead as a sun shield, T'érsite sighed.  "I used to wonder why the women always wept as their husbands and sons went off to war."