Steep Wilusiya (Age of Bronze)

by Diana Gainer

  In front of the fortress, close to the hastily secured main gate, Diwoméde vented his frustration on the row of sacred pillars. With his sword and spear, the young qasiléyu attacked the stone obelisks, cursing Dáwan and her spouse who ruled the sea. The two end columns had shifted during the strong quake. Weakened and unbalanced, the easternmost pillar fell with a great crash. In its descent, it grazed the pillar beside it and the second obelisk began to give way. This one leaned toward the south, resting uneasily against the third column.

  The youthful Argive raised his arms above his head, whooping in triumph, and stumbled through a dance about the damaged idols. "Idé, I have boxed the ears of Dáwan's little daughter!" he exulted. "I made Assúwan Kórwa fall and scrape her knees. Now she will run crying to her pappa. 'Owái, look what that warrior did to me,' she will say." He laughed so hard at the thought that tears ran from his eyes and he could not remain on his feet.

  Antílok'o was horrified and gathered several Mesheníyans to drag the Argive away from the six columns before he did any further damage. "Stop insulting the gods or you will get us all killed," the prince of Mesheníya demanded.

  Diwoméde fought free of the hands that wanted to direct him. But he did not return to the Tróyan pillars. He continued his dance of victory, flapping his arms as if they were wings, shouting, "I drove away the Kentáuros and the burned faces! Look at me! I will kill anything that comes my way, mortal or immortal."

  As the qasiléyu skipped over the dry, trampled grass of the field, he kicked at the still bodies in his path. Bendisiléya groaned when Diwoméde's bandaged foot struck her and he bent down. "By Díwo!" he shouted, beckoning to his companions. "I have found a woman warrior here, and she is still alive."

  Ak'illéyu and a few incredulous Ak'áyans gathered around the helpless queen. Her face was ashen. Her half-opened eyes were glazed. Blood still trickled from the spear wound in her ribs and her breathing was slow, shallow, and irregular.

  "She may be alive now, but she will not live much longer," Ak'illéyu said brusquely, after a brief look. "Leave her and get the bronze back to the river."

  Odushéyu spat on her. "A woman fighting like a man is unspeakable!"

  Antílok'o nodded. "Did you see how her women fought? Préswa's own lamíyas, they were, blood-sucking monsters."

  "I say we toss her to the dogs while she is still alive enough to feel them tear her apart," Aíwaks suggested, looking to the others for support. "A woman warrior is an abomination!"

  "No, throw her in the river so she will drown," Odushéyu commanded with authority. "That is a coward's death."

  Ak'illéyu shoved at the lawagétas surrounding the fallen queen. "I say we let her alone. Qálki says that she is descended from a mountain mainád. We risk our souls if we dishonor her. Leave her. She will die of her wound before nightfall."

  But the men, frustrated in their attempt to sack Tróya once again, were not willing to let the matter drop. Odushéyu asked, "Why do you care what we do, Ak'illéyu? Idé, you are a great one for picking arguments over captive women. Do you love this one, too? Ai, she looks old enough to be your mother. I say we kill her! What do you say, Aíwaks?"

  "Kill her!" the big man decided, without hesitation.

  Diwoméde, uncertain to begin with, now agreed. "Kill her."

  Seeing himself outvoted, Ak'illéyu drew his sword, ready to fight.

  Three more swords in equally stubborn hands came from their scabbards. Diwoméde roared with laughter. "Owái, we are quaking with fear, Ak'illéyu. You will fight for this Kentáuro the same way you fought for 'Iqodámeya. 'I will not fight any more,' you will say. 'Unless I change my mind again.'"

  Aíwaks jumped ahead of his companions to meet the T'eshalíyan's raging sword. But the fight did not last more than a few blows. Agamémnon and Meneláwo came to the group with their more sober warriors and forced the combatants to break it off. Cursing Odushéyu, Ak'illéyu returned his weapon to its casing and stalked away toward the river and the camp beyond.

  Odushéyu and Aíwaks took the woman's feet and hands and half-carried, half-dragged her to the Sqámandro River. They tossed her in, calling, "You will be food for fishes, now, witch."

  Aíwaks laughed, but he was uneasy. His discomfort turned to real fear as the woman's gray hair floated on the surface of the water briefly, even after her body sank. Her head and arms rose again, her eyes fixed, her fingers reaching stiffly for the sky. Her mouth opened and she choked out a few words that the men on the shore could not understand. Bendisiléya then disappeared beneath the water, not even a bubble rising from where she sank.

  On the riverbank, the Ak'áyan lawagétas stood in silence. "What did she say?" Diwoméde asked no one in particular, shaken and suddenly sober.

  "Probably a curse," Odushéyu muttered, shuffling his feet. "What else?"

  Aíwaks shuddered. "This is an evil omen. Maybe she was a goddess, after all. And the river goddess took her into her house below the waters. Let us return to the camp quickly and speak to Qálki about this."

  "That was a dishonorable thing to do," Ak'illéyu fumed, as he caught up with them. "The woman would have died before sunset, anyway. What was the point?"

  "She broke the laws of nature," Aíwaks answered defensively.

  Odushéyu nodded. "The gods approve of what we did."

  Ak'illéyu fingered his sword hilt but, with more powerful kings fast approaching, contented himself with glaring at the Argives and the It'ákan. "In T'eshalíya, the lady At'ána fights alongside us on the battlefield. The sound of the arrow whistling through the air is said to be her war cry. She cannot be pleased with you."

  Diwoméde shifted his feet, pain filtering into his consciousness again. A feeling of dread came over him with it.

  Aíwaks groaned. "We worship At'ána in the south, too. Owái, this is an evil day."

  "Come on, let us get back to the tents," Odushéyu growled. "I am hungry. And I have never been one to worry very much about the curses of women." He spat the last word contemptuously.

  "Women are closer to the gods than we are," Aíwaks worried, shaking his head. "People say that their curses are the most powerful. Ai, what have we done?"

  "Be still," Odushéyu shouted, "or I will silence you with my spear!"

  The men waded across the low river, no longer exulting in spite of the day's victory.

  aaa

  Agamémnon remained in his tent that evening, leaving the count of the dead and the collection of spent arrows and fallen spears to the direction of his qasiléyus. Despite Diwoméde's still unhealed wound, the young man was not allowed to rest. He forced himself to perform his duties, fortified once more by the bitter essence of poppies. In the meantime, as the captive women prepared the evening meal, the high wánaks and his closest allies discussed strategies for the remainder of the campaign.

  "It is late in the season," Néstor reminded them all, once more, with a grimace of frustration. "I have warned of this again and again. Always you choose to ignore my advice. But now I have received word from Ak'áiwiya that makes our departure more urgent than ever. Yesterday, I spoke with a Wórdoyan merchant who came to bring us food supplies. His wánaks was among the first to die after Meneláwo received his wound, if you will remember. His wánasha, Poluksó, reigns over the eastern islands now. And she has received letters from several other queens. All these messages urge her to join a women's alliance against the rightful kings of Ak'áiwiya. Do you understand what this means? Our wives intend to divorce and dethrone us when we return home. They may even try to kill us."

  Idómeneyu confirmed the older king's report. "We have already missed the first ceremony of Kórwa's ascent with the planting of the grain," the Kep'túriyan reminded Agamémnon. "We may have offended the goddesses, endangering the spring harvest. Or, at least, our people will believe we have. This is a serious matter. Néstor and I have no kinship ties with our commoners. Our country people have never forgotten this. They are quick to blame us for every misfortune that b
efalls them. The last harvest was meager enough, all around the Great Green Sea. Unless this year's is better, we will be facing revolt. Finish this campaign quickly. End it now."

  The overlord stroked his beard. "A long campaign has its difficulties, true enough. But Kep'túriyans and Mesheníyans are always restless in the autumn. And as for our queens, well, dissatisfied wives often plot against their absent husbands. I do not believe our problems are critical. Meneláwo's greatest fear was that the Náshiyan army would come and tip the balance in the Assúwans' favor. But that did not happen. Nor do I believe that it will. If Qáttushli intended to help Wilúsiya, he would have done so by now."

  Odushéyu was in full agreement with the overlord. "Today's battle was a decisive victory, despite all of the prophet Qálki's warnings. I do not really know whether those were maináds or the legendary Kentáuros, or just men riding on horseback, as mad as that sounds. But, whatever they were, their leader died today, so they will abandon Tróya now, just as the T'rákiyans and Lúkiyans did when their leaders died. Those Burned Faces turned out to be miserable soldiers, despite all the legends about prowess. Did you see, Néstor? The Ait'iyoqíyans retreated almost without resistance. Our position is very good, militarily. All we need is one more push and we will take the fortress. Then, when the fabled riches of the east are ours, we can buy our way back into the hearts of our peoples and our queens."

  "Ai, I admit I once had my worries about Klutaimnéstra," Agamémnon admitted. "But I am no longer concerned about what she might be plotting. Tróya may still be standing, but the end is coming, as Odushéyu says. That will mean the beginning of a new golden age, in which Ak'áiwiya is a world power, equal in rank to Mízriya and Náshiya. When we leave Wilúsiya, we will have so much prestige and power that no one will be able to stand in our way, least of all a few hungry farmers and faithless women."

  Néstor scowled. "You are both letting your hopes and wishes overrule your senses. You may have let the lady of the poppy have her way with you. But I am not so foolish as to believe tales of men riding on horseback. If those were truly Kentáuros out there today, real dáimons that are half beast and half woman, then we have surely angered whatever god it was who gave them birth and sent them here. Heaven is clearly against us, Agamémnon, and this world is hardly ours for the taking. As for Wilúsiya's other allies, I recognize those men with burned faces. Such people have come to Mesheníya's ports more than once. They are subjects of the Mízriyan emperor. Qálki is right about that. Their appearance here is a very dangerous sign that cannot be discounted by cheerful words. Obviously, Mízriya and Náshiya have joined forces. Can you not see that? Our Ak'áyan alliance might be powerful enough to take on either world power alone, although I have my doubts. But we cannot hope to prevail against them both unless we gather more allies. And where in this world could we possibly do that?"

  Again, the wánaks of Kep'túr sided with his Mesheníyan neighbor. "We must finish this war now," Idómeneyu insisted.

  Agamémnon dismissed them both with a wave of the hand. "I knew about the alliance between those two empires long before my brother's wife was stolen. Far from being a bad sign for us, it is a most auspicious sign, I tell you. It means that the world powers of our father's day have worn each other down to size. Have you heard T'érsite's old song, the one about the battle of the frogs and the mice?"

  The older king frowned impatiently. "Yes, but…"

  The high wánaks laughed heartily, reclining on his dirty sheepskins. "The Náshiyans are the frogs, you see, and the Mízriyans are the mice. When our fathers were young, the two empires of creatures had their battle. The frogs were close to winning, ready to finish off the mice. But what happened? Díwo sent in lobsters to destroy the frogs."

  Néstor threw up his hands. "Your song is as enigmatic as the oracles at 'Elléniya and Put'ó. What are we to make of this?"

  "Yes, who are these lobsters supposed to be?" Idómeneyu asked. "Us?"

  Raising a cup of wine above his head, Agamémnon chuckled happily, "Exactly! Ak'áiwiya's time has come."

  The white-bearded wánaks was alarmed. "Such talk of power and empire can only attract Díwo's Evil Eye and disaster. Remember, even a world power can be destroyed by famine and civil war."

  "What is wrong with you, old man?" Agamémnon roared, his patience gone. "Are you blind? Did you not see how we fought today? All the kingdoms of Ak'áiwiya stood together, united as never before. We faced an enemy rumored to be more than human and routed them. Routed them, I say! The end of Tróya is in sight."

  Néstor shook his head, remaining calm only with effort. "Men always think tomorrow's battle will be the last before victory. But a commander must be realistic. All right, yes, we did well today. But tomorrow we may do poorly. The only sure way to end a war is negotiation. Now, consider this. The 'Elléniyan woman has cost Wilúsiya a great deal. Alakshándu is old and has seen two of his sons die for her. He must want an end to this. I believe the king could be persuaded to take back the sister he lost twenty years ago to Ak'áyan pirates. Trade the lady Ishqíyanna for the 'Elléniyan queen. What do you say? Can Meneláwo be persuaded to give up the war?"

  Agamémnon shook his head vigorously. "You do not understand, old man. Meneláwo is not the problem. He is a simple man with room in his heart for only one thought at a time. He wants his wife and that is all. He would give his consent to your plan readily enough. But that is not what this campaign is about."

  "Are you saying this is your war and not your brother's?" Idómeneyu asked coldly.

  Agamémnon smiled and spread his hands. "Look at the whole situation. Ak'áiwiya is a rich place, but divided. It took my father the better part of his life to consolidate his sovereignty over Argo, Lakedaimón, and Arkadíya. The south was not united by treaty until Néstor took my mother's sister as his second wife."

  The graying Mesheníyan nodded, his eyes gleaming harshly. "This marriage links only the one generation," he pointed out. "Unless you give one of your daughters to one of my sons, the link will break after our passing."

  Agamémnon waved his hands impatiently. "Yes, yes, Néstor, I fully intend to give Antílok'o his choice of my daughters. Or, perhaps, he would prefer the daughter of one of my kinsmen. My cousin Aígist'o has a lovely girl just reaching marriageable age…"

  Néstor's eyes narrowed, deepening the furrows in his forehead and cheeks. "What is this talk of cousins' daughters? It sounds as though you are saving K'rusót'emi and Lawódika for someone else. Do you think you can marry your daughters to the princes of Mízriya and Náshiya? Forget it, Agamémnon. Foreign kings simply do not marry Ak'áyan women. They consider us barbarians. Accept it. Your power in Ak'áiwiya is greater than any other man's, past or present. Your heirs may wield still more power, if the gods are willing. But that is all. Why is this not enough for you? You risk everything gained in three generations if you abandon your oldest allies."

  Agamémnon groaned and rolled his eyes. "Ai gar, Nestor, you still do not see the whole situation. I expected more wisdom from you. Well, I will explain it. Do you think the great king Qáttushli is satisfied with all his possessions? Is the great king Ramusís satisfied? Ai, no king or emperor is ever satisfied with what he has. If I do not contest Qáttushli on the shores of Assúwa, do you not think he will contest me in Ak'áiwiya, one day? For that matter, are you sure that Mízriya will not send its armies against us? Mízriya coveted Kep'túr's wealth in our grandfathers' time. Only the wars between Mízriya and Náshiya saved Ak'áiwiya from attack back then. Now that the two empires have settled their differences, it is only a matter of time until one or the other turns on us. When that happens, without my help, Kep'túr will fall. And what kingdom do you think the Mízriyans will take on next? Why, your own land of Mesheníya!"

  "You do not know that!" Néstor cried, truly alarmed. "Lakedaimón is closer."

  "But your kingdom is richer. The point is that Mízriya's king will never be content so long as Ak'áiwiya's wealth is just beyond his grasp. E
ither he or Qáttushli will march against us sooner or later."

  Idómeneyu frowned. "So, we prepare for this by making war ourselves? That makes no sense. We leave our homes defenseless this way, practically inviting attack. A quick raid would have been a better tactic."

  "If protecting Ak'áiwiya was my only aim, a raid would have better, certainly," the overlord admitted, unruffled. "But I intend to rule an Ak'áyan empire, based on the control of tin. That is what this war is really about, not my sister-in-law. Meneláwo's wife was only an excuse to raise this army. Would the men of all Ak'áiwiya unite over tin? Never! They would send out their pirates to steal it from me should I be lucky enough to get it. But give them a challenge to Ak'áyan honor and they trip over their own feet in their rush to join me."

  Odushéyu was nodding, impressed, throughout Agamémnon's speech. "You have thought this through quite well, my friend. But I must ask you one thing. Why did you take Ak'illéyu's woman? Did maináds take hold of you? You nearly destroyed all your plans with that move."