Golden Mukenai (The Age of Bronze)

by Diana Gainer

  Antánor backed away from his younger, larger kinsman. "You have forgotten the legends of that Ak'áyan sacker of cities, 'Erakléwe, the Glory of the goddes ‘Era. In the days of our forefathers he burned Tróya to the ground with the loss of all the royal family. Those were evil times, when mothers ate their own children to survive. We do not want to bring such suffering upon ourselves again. What do you say, my lord Alakshándu?" Antánor asked a white-haired man upon his marble throne. "What message am I to take to the Lakedaimóniyan delegation outside? Do we negotiate for the foreign woman's release? Or do we attack her would-be rescuers, drive them from our shores, and begin a fruitless war?"

  The king rubbed his stubbly chin. "As vassal king of the city of Tróya, and the land of Wilúsiya, I have many responsibilities," the old man began carefully. "I am the patriarch of my family, so it is my responsibility to see that my dear sister, Ishqíyanna, is avenged. In this, I commend my son. Paqúr, you have done well by the family's honor." He smiled faintly at the younger man and Paqúr's chest swelled with pride at the words.

  Antánor shut his eyes and shook his head. "There is more than honor at stake here. Why can you not see what a disaster this could be?"

  The elderly monarch was not finished. "But as king, I also have the responsibility to see that my people do not starve, that their fields are not burned, or their homes plundered. It is this concern that my son-in-law, Antánor, addresses. Yes, what he says is true," he went on, as Paqúr was about to object. "One raid provokes another and that one provokes still another in return. Such a war may last for generations and is not a thing lightly entered into. Antánor, you speak well. It is not for nothing that I have made you my chief councilor."

  Antánor glared triumphantly at their lord's bearded son.

  "But we are not a petty kingdom like Lakedaimón," Paqúr cried. "We have nothing to fear from these barbarians. The Ak'áyans are divided into a dozen little countries, each quarrelling constantly with its neighbors. But we have the Náshiyan empire at our backs. No realm in the world is stronger, not even Mízriya."

  Alakshándu nodded again and carefully draped purple robes about his rounded shoulders. "This is as you say, my son. We are indeed part of the most powerful empire in the world. But our overlord Qáttushli is far from here. If I send him a message, I cannot be certain that it will reach him, what with bandits on the roads, the vagaries of the weather, and so on. If my messenger reaches the great city of Qattúsha unharmed, the emperor may not grant him an audience. Our lord Qáttushli has many responsibilities, as do I. Even he cannot be everywhere at once. Can we be sure he will send his troops to support us in our quarrel?"

  Antánor shook his graying head. "No, lord Alakshándu, the answer is no. I cannot state this too strongly. We cannot count on Qáttushli's help. There are disturbing signs of weakness everywhere. The rains have been poor and harvests meager throughout the empire. The Lúkiyan dependency is already restive. In fact, if our overlord must fight his vassal, Sharpaduwánna, we will be ordered to send our troops south, to support him. We will need peace at home if we must leave our own land undefended."

  Paqúr stepped close to his brother-in-law. Standing half a head taller, the royal son glared balefully at the councilor. "But I say that Qáttushli will not betray us. Wilúsiya has been the overlord’s loyal dependency for four hundred years. My father is Qáttushli's own hand-picked vassal. There is a close personal bond there. Besides, Wilúsiya guards the trade route to the source of tin. That is the most valuable metal there is. Even if loyalty and friendship mean nothing to him, the emperor cannot forget that."

  "Our western islands have been attacked by Ak'áyan pirates in the past, and the emperor has not responded," Antánor observed acidly. "Qáttushli forgets what it pleases him to forget."

  The king cleared his throat to gain the attention of the assembled elders and war leaders. "Paqúr, I believe, as you do, that Qáttushli will send us aid. What concerns me is not whether a Náshiyan army will come at all, but whether it will come before or after the Ak'áyans arrive. No, Paqúr, do not answer back. You have had your say. So have you, Antánor. I wish to hear from my other sons. Step forward, Qántili. As commander of my troops, what do you have to say in this matter? Has your brother done well?"

  Alakshándu addressed a young man leaning in the darkness against the far wall. Qántili stepped forward into the light by the fire to answer. Not as tall as Paqúr, he was broader across the chest. "My father, I understand Paqúr's desire for revenge. It is not honorable to allow the women of one's family to be mistreated. But if that is the reason for the capture of the 'Elléniyan woman, then how can we refuse to negotiate for her release? Demand Aunt Ishqíyanna's return and give back the Lakedaimóniyan captive in return. That is the only honorable course of action."

  "Honor!" Paqúr cried. "What do you know of areté? You have hardly fought a dozen battles, resting at home peacefully, while I sail about the seas, risking my life, year after year, to bring home the wealth of every island or nation. Our father must have been dancing with the maináds when he made you commander of Wilúsiya's army."

  "If I stay here, what concern is that of yours?" Qántili retorted angrily. "Someone must stay here to protect our homes and families. When you are sacking cities all across the sea, you are making enemies for us on all sides. What honor is there in leaving your own women undefended?"

  "Paqúr! Qántili!" the aging monarch called from his throne. "That is enough! You are not children anymore. I will not have you arguing this way in my mégaron. Now, what about you, Érinu, what do you have to say about Qántili's proposal? Should we trade this 'Elléniyan woman for your aunt?"

  "Never!" Paqúr cried.

  "Be still!" his royal father returned. "If you cannot control your anger, stand outside in the courtyard with the servants."

  The oldest prince struck his thighs with his hands, but said no more. Teeth clenched, Paqúr stepped away from the lighted hearth to sulk in the shadows by the wall.

  "Érinu?" asked the king, looking about. "Where are you, boy? As the priest of Apúluno, what do you think of Paqúr's deeds?"

  "Father," said a man of light build, younger than the other princes. He pressed the folds of his long robe between nervous hands. "Since you have asked me, I must answer truthfully. Your sister would have welcomed such an exchange twenty years ago, I am sure. Any woman would prefer to live where her brother can help raise her sons and protect her from her husband's excesses. But Aunt Ishqíyanna has been in Ak'áiwiya for many years. She is married. Her children are grown and bearing her grandchildren. Honor is one thing, but let us be realistic. Ishqíyanna will not be grateful if you tear her away from what is now her home."

  Alakshándu nodded slightly, the sparse, white hairs on his head hardly swinging. "Is there something else we might demand in her stead? What does Ak'áiwiya have that we might desire?"

  There was a long silence in the mégaron as men looked at each other questioningly. Paqúr leaped to the hearth side to answer. "The Ak'áyans have nothing of value. Our lands are richer in grain and fruits, our horses are bigger and better trained, and our women are more skilled in weaving. Above all else, our wealth comes from metal. Argo has a little copper, but any people may get copper, from the rich island, Alásiya, if nowhere else. But what is copper by itself? It is nothing but a brittle, red metal, hardly more useful than wood or stone. We have what all other kingdoms lack, because we control the trade route through the straits, to the source of tin. Without our tin, there would be no bronze."

  "He is right," said another prince, his beard still light on his youthful chin. "What little the Ak'áyans have is stolen from somewhere else."

  The room filled with laughter, but Qántili quietly asked, "If the Ak'áyans have so little, Dapashánda, why does Paqúr spend half the year raiding their cities?"

  Paqúr turned on his brother with his bronze dagger drawn. "Because that is the only fit occupation for men!" he cried, his voice coarse.

 
Qántili's eyes flamed and he drew his own yellow blade. "You are nothing but a pirate, without areté."

  Alakshándu rose to his feet and struck the floor with his heavy staff. "Be silent!" he cried, making the room echo. "I will not tell you two again." The furious, royal sons reluctantly put their weapons back in their leather scabbards and sat on opposite sides of the hearth. Still on his feet, the vassal king turned to a broad-shouldered man sitting quietly to his left. "Ainyáh, you are my chief ally as well as my son-in-law, and commander of my mercenaries. What is your counsel in this matter?"

  Ainyáh did not stand. "Every Kanaqániyan city that owes allegiance to Qáttushli will support you, my lord."

  "Yes, of course," responded Alakshándu impatiently. "I know that you and your mercenaries are loyal. But what is your advice? Should we bargain for the foreign woman's freedom?"

  The Kanaqániyan did not answer immediately. "Did I hear correctly? Has an army come from Ak'áiwiya to obtain her return?" he asked.

  Antánor answered, "Yes, a small contingent of Ak'áyans, mostly Lakedaimóniyans. My spy tells me that there are also several longboats of pirates from the westernmost islands, led by Odushéyu. We know him well. He has given our islands grief for years."

  Ainyáh was unimpressed. "This much is no cause for concern."

  "Yes," Antánor agreed, "But there are hints that Lakedaimón's support is broader than just a few pirates. There are men from Argo as well."

  The room stirred at this news. "Agamémnon?" asked Ainyáh.

  "No," the councilor admitted, somewhat reluctantly. "The Argive king is not with them. But he evidently supports the claims of his brother's kingdom and we know him to be the most powerful of the Ak'áyan kings. He claims to be a great king on a par with Qáttushli. I do not think Wilúsiya is well served by making an enemy of such a powerful man."

  Ainyáh scratched his curly, black beard. "We should consider the possibility that Agamémnon is gathering a larger force to attack us, as this advance force stalls for time."

  Antánor was thunderstruck. "You think the negotiation is just a ploy?"

  "It is a possibility," suggested the Kanaqániyan. "If this is so, then even if you give in to the Ak'áyans' demands, they will not drop the matter. It is my opinion that war has begun, whether you like it or not. The demands of honor cannot overrule the need for survival. Our best course is to attack now, while the forces outside our walls are small. We can beat them easily and drive them from our shores. Kill most of them now. Allow a few to escape and carry the word of their defeat back to Ak'áiwiya. Show Agamémnon that he is doomed, before he ever sets out. That is the best way to end this war quickly, without heavy losses."

  "But what if Agamémnon is not discouraged by this defeat? What if he returns in force next summer?" Antánor demanded.

  Ainyáh shrugged. "Then our lord Alakshándu can call another assembly and decide at that point whether to negotiate, when we see exactly what we are facing."

  "I like this advice the best," Alakshándu announced quickly. "The decision is made. We will not bargain for the 'Elléniyan woman's release. She is ours unless she is taken from us by force of arms. We are at war. Attack at dawn."

  Antánor clapped his hands to his head, streaked with gray. "But this is dishonorable. We cannot attack envoys who came in peace, carrying sacred laurel branches. Tell them, Érinu, tell them."

  The king raised his hands, palms out in the gesture of peace, as his younger son rose to object. "True. We must follow custom. Send the envoys back to their camp empty-handed for now. Attack when they have put down the emblems of the god."

  "But…but what do the gods say?" Antánor asked, grasping at anything to change the king's mind. "Consult with Érinu and Kashánda. Have they seen omens? You cannot make such a momentous decision without first asking for the gods' favor."

  Alakshándu shrugged. "We will make a sacrifice after the attack, say, ten heifers and twenty sheep. You worry too much, Antánor. The gods are like powerful men, easily appeased with generous gifts. I made my son, Érinu, a priest and my daughter, Kashánda, a priestess just so that this kind of issue would not trouble me. Besides, that is a small army outside our walls. We cannot fail to defeat them. I am certain the gods approve." The large chamber rumbled with the sounds of men preparing to leave, talking all at once. But the vassal king on his throne did not announce the end of the assembly. Slowly, the Wilúsiyans began returning to their chairs and benches.

  "It is the plans of men, not of gods, that worry me," Alakshándu added, when they were still. "We should take precautions in case Ainyáh is correct about a larger army gathering under Agamémnon. I will send an emissary to Qáttushli, to ask for his aid. The emperor has had difficulties with the Ak'áyans before. He may welcome a chance to teach them a lesson. My son, Érinu, will go to Qattúsha for this purpose." He nodded to the young priest. Érinu bowed his head to show his respect and obedience.

  Alakshándu continued, "I will send another emissary along the western coast of Assúwa, to collect allies from our neighboring kingdoms. The lands of Míra and Kuwalíya have more quarrels with Ak'áiwiya than does Qáttushli. It should not take an inordinate amount of metal to buy their support. Also, it has only been a generation since Argo wrested Millewánda's rich port from Lúkiya. Sharpaduwánna will surely join us, for revenge if not for bronze or glory. My son, Dapashánda, will do this task for me.

  "I will send my son, Lupákki, to make the rounds of the island kings, next. They have suffered their share of grief from the Ak'áyans. Neither Lámno nor Lázpa has many men. But their plentiful sheep and their grain and wine can keep us, and our allies, well supplied with food.

  "My youngest son, Pitqána, will go north to bring the T'rákiyans across the straits to join me. Those barbarians will take on anyone for the promise of a few Wilúsiyan horses. So, you see, Ainyáh, even if you are correct and Agamémnon is assembling an army, we can easily gather a greater one. Wilúsiya is in no serious danger."

  Ainyáh nodded, impressed. "I am glad to hear it. For my part, I will send messengers to the Kanaqániyan cities under Mízriya's rule. I may be able to rally them to your cause as well. My people are well known for their love of bronze and your generous payments will no doubt stir many of their hearts. But now I must prepare my men for the coming battle." He rose and, at the king's nod, left the room.

  "I should do the same," Qántili said quietly, still unhappy. He wrapped his robe about his shoulders and prepared to go.

  But Alakshándu did not nod his head, and his son remained in the mégaron, frowning, puzzled. "The assembly is at an end," said the old monarch. "I will speak with my sons alone." Annoyed, but obedient, Antánor left the room, followed by the silent elders of the assembly. "Érinu, you will speak to the emissaries in the courtyard," Alakshándu said, as his sons gathered before the throne. "Dapashánda, Lupákki, Pitqána, prepare for your journeys. You too, Érinu, after you have taken my decision to Meneláwo." The white-haired king waited as the younger princes bowed their heads in obedience and filed from the room. "See to your wives," the old man told the two remaining.

  Paqúr announced forcefully, "I intend to take the 'Elléniyan woman for my wife. With her at my side, I have a lawful claim to the throne of Lakedaimón. Qáttushli will reward such an addition to his empire, the first Náshiyan dependency in Ak'áiwiya."

  Qántili stared at his brother in shocked amazement. "What will Wóinone say about that?" he asked. "Will she willingly step down to become a mere concubine? After bearing you three sons? Or do you intend to divorce her and disown your own children?"

  "Wóinone has no say in the matter," Paqúr answered curtly. "She is only the daughter of a shepherd. She does as I tell her. I have already commanded her to live apart from me, to go to the merchants' quarters on the outskirts of the city, and live as though she were a widow. She will do it, too, without arguments or complaints. I have not forgotten my children, nor do I intend to. Our sister, Kashánda, will look after my sons, h
ere in the palace. This has nothing to do with the army, so it is not your affair. It is my personal business, brother, and I am older than you. You have no say in what I do on the sea and even less in what I do in my own house."

  "You bring shame on the whole family when you behave without honor," Qántili cried.

  But Alakshándu came between the angry brothers. "I will hear no more about this, my sons," he told them firmly. "As Paqúr says, this is his personal business. What he chooses to do with his first wife is for him to decide, without your interference. Always defer to your elders, Qántili. Ai, you are too worried about your reputation, son. You see threats to your honor everywhere. This is only natural for a boy or a young man, but you are getting close to thirty years old, now. You have too quick a temper, a trait good for a warrior, but disastrous for a ruler! Thus far, I am inclined to favor Paqúr over you as my successor."

  Qántili turned once more to leave the room. "I will see to my men," he growled, fists clenched.

  "I told you to see to your wife," Alakshándu ordered. His face remained stern, but his voice was warm.

  Qántili stopped in his tracks, staring at his father, his anger suddenly forgotten. "Andrómak'e?"