Steep Wilusiya (Age of Bronze)

by Diana Gainer

  Ariyádna herself did not eat, nor did she speak, as the men talked over their meal. She returned to her seat, where her hands began moving through the air, dropping an invisible spindle whorl and setting it spinning, drawing out a thread that no eyes could see but hers. At times she mouthed words, but Odushéyu could not make out what she was saying. Her actions unnerved him. He almost expected her eyes to roll back in her head as Penelópa's did when she was about to prophesy.

  "What do you think of sacking island cities, Antánor?" asked Ainyáh. "I prefer that form of warfare, myself. The settlements are small, so you cannot take much booty at any one stop. But, considering their size, they have a great deal of wealth. And it is easily obtained. A quick fight or two and your ships are loaded with trade goods and slaves. A man could make a decent living doing nothing but feeding off of small islands."

  Antánor nodded. "I agree, Ainyáh. It may not be the most glorious activity but it is a reliable means of obtaining treasure. When we attacked Sidún, we got a good deal more treasure, but look at all the trouble that caused! Qáttushli had been at odds with Mízriya for years, so we thought he would be delighted to hear we had struck a Mízriyan outpost. Who knew the great kings were negotiating an exchange of royal wives? What a mess that was!"

  Ainyáh smiled slightly and shook his head. "A sacker of cities may earn undying glory…" he began, philosophically.

  "…but he who sacks island villages lives to enjoy his wealth," Antánor concluded with a hearty laugh. Both raised their cups of wine and poured a few drops on the floor for the deities.

  Odushéyu listened in silence, unsure of himself. As the wánaks of an island nation, he was none too pleased with what he heard. It would be far better for small kingdoms like his if the more powerful kings raided each other. But, in the presence of a still undefeated enemy, he dared not speak up. Alakshándu's sons-in-law evidently meant to do him no harm, since they had fed and clothed him. But such a welcome was completely unexpected. Odushéyu did not know what to make of it or how to speak to them.

  When the last crumbs dried on the boards, uneaten, Ariyádna dropped her airy spinning and stood. The Tróyan men and Kluména looked at the 'Elléniyan woman with some surprise. Seeing all their heads turned toward the Lakedaimóniyan queen, Odushéyu took her action to be a sign. "Wánasha, I have come to see whether you support Ak'áiwiya or Wilúsiya, in this war," the It'ákan said.

  Ariyádna's large eyes met the It'ákan's with a sudden flash of recognition. "You married my cousin, Penelópa," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She swayed on her feet and Odushéyu noted that she was thinner than when he had last seen her and her skin darker. The Tróyans had given her work in the sun, evidently. A good sign, he thought, showing that she was a slave and not a prince's royal wife.

  "That makes us kinsmen, Odushéyu," Ariyádna sighed.

  The island wánaks was reassured. "You will help me, then," he said confidently. "And you?" he asked, turning to the men.

  The older of the two spoke. "I do not know if you remember me, but I am Antánor, counselor to king Alakshándu and his oldest son-in-law. This is Ainyáh, once Kanaqán's finest warrior, now also a son-in-law of Wilúsiya's king." Ainyáh nodded to the Ak'áyan visitor, as Antánor went on. "We have paid tribute to Náshiya for generations, now, and even so, the emperor Qáttushli betrayed us in our time of need. He had no interest in us. Word has now come that his son is now on the throne. But even Tudqáliya has not sent more than token support. His Mar-Yandúns are already leaving us."

  Ainyáh added, "This leaves us a mere handful of native warriors and a single ally, a contingent of Mízriyans. All but the commander are really Káushans, a subject people. I suspect that the Mízriyan great king sent them only because he has troubles of his own on his southern border and does not trust their loyalty at home. So, to any thinking man it is apparent that Tróya will not survive this war. But Alakshándu will not listen to anyone but Paqúr. And Paqúr will never give up his prize. Between them, they have determined that every Wilúsiyan will fight to the death for this hopeless cause."

  Antánor took over, as the Kanaqániyan's voice shook and faltered. "We have wives and little children, sons who should live to provide us with grandchildren. We must think of them now. We will help you end the war in return for assurances that no Ak'áyan will harm us or touch anything that is ours, whether people or property."

  Odushéyu smiled broadly. "I think we can come to some kind of agreement." He glanced up quizzically at Ariyádna, who was still standing, watching them all in silence, her face as emotionless as ever. He had the feeling that she was about to say something. But only silence greeted his gaze. With a shrug, Odushéyu turned back to the men. Taking charge, he said, "Our prophet tells us that Tróya's life is protected by a goddess in the form of a Qalladiyón. I have come for that."

  Antánor and Ainyáh looked at each other in shock. "We cannot help you with that," Antánor said indignantly. "It is too much to ask. You may beat us on the battlefield, but…"

  Ainyáh stopped the older man with a wave of the hand. "It cannot be done in any case."

  Odushéyu rose in anger. "You said you would help us. With those words you made yourselves traitors to your country. There is no point in trying to go back on that now. Help me take the Qalladiyón, or you will die when Tróya falls and what is yours will be carried off to Ak'áiwiya in our black ships."

  Again the Assúwan men looked at each other, now in consternation. "We cannot," Ainyáh said. "There are many shrines in Tróya and many images of the goddess. Only the priestesses know where the Qalladiyón is. The lady Dáwan does not reveal herself to men."

  Odushéyu was stunned into silence.

  "The Qalladiyón is in the queen's shrine," Ariyádna whispered, her voice soft but clear, causing Kluména and the men to gasp. "I will show you which image is the soul of the city."

  Odushéyu nearly choked at the suggestion. "No, no, wánasha, that would be too dangerous. You stay here. Meneláwo would kill me if anything happened to you. I will go by myself. Just tell me what the thing looks like."

  Ariyádna shook her head, fastening her solemn, unblinking eyes on her cousin's husband. "There are many images of the goddess. You will not know which is the true Qalladiyón. And you must take the right one or the people will not surrender their citadel. The men will fight to the death. The women will set fire to their own houses and fling themselves and their children from the walls of Tróya rather than give themselves up to you."

  Antánor and Ainyáh nodded in confirmation. It was the It'ákan’s turn to be shocked. "But that is barbaric! No civilized people kill their own children." Suddenly he remembered a young woman's face, not unlike the one before him. He thought of Ip'emédeya's wide, dark eyes when she first learned that she was to be a sacrificial offering. He coughed and turned his face away. "Ai, but if you insist, I suppose you will have to come with me after all."

  The Assúwan men remained in their seats as Odushéyu stood. "We will not come," Antánor hastened to say. "We would not be of any help to you. Our presence would only make the attempt more dangerous. Men are not allowed in Dáwan's holiest chambers."

  Ainyáh added, "We will meet you at the postern gate afterward and see that you get out of the fortress safely."

  Ariyádna stopped a moment at the doorway of her chamber, before pulling the bolt that held the door closed. She looked down at Odushéyu's newly donned kilt, saying nothing. He followed her gaze, uncomprehending at first. With a frown of sudden understanding, he removed the garment, to stand before the woman as naked as when he had entered Tróya.

  "Lead on, wánasha," he muttered, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in his nakedness, a sensation he had not felt before.

  Keeping to the shadows, the two walked quickly and quietly across the hilltop to a small shrine off the palace courtyard. All was quiet, as most of Tróya's people were sleeping. The Ak'áyans easily slipped into the little building, the scattered beams of the moon their onl
y light. They crossed a small room, light from the open door behind them illuminating it only feebly. At the back of the chamber, there stood a door, which Odushéyu opened, slowly, carefully, trying not to let it groan on its leather hinges. Beyond the door, at the back of a second, very narrow room, stood a multitude of figurines, precious stones, lengths of fine cloth, and animal hides. All were shrouded in gloom behind a cracked altar. Some of the little statues had circular bodies and pointed heads, some had birds' wings outstretched. Others seemed more human, terra cotta figures of unclothed women grasping their breasts. All had large, round eyes painted in dark colors, eyes which seemed to glare at the intruders. All about the strange figures lay stones in the shape of coiled, headless snakes, and darker, unshaped rocks.

  "Which one is it?" Odushéyu whispered, pressing close to Ariyadná's shoulder. He could feel the idols' eyes on his bare skin. It made his flesh crawl and his knees tremble. He thought he could feel the cool breath of the goddess who lived there, blowing gently past his ears. What dreadful vengeance might Dáwan exact from him, for what he dared to do this night? His teeth were chattering and he had to lean against the wall of the sanctuary to stay on his feet.

  Ariyádna did not turn to look at Odushéyu, nor did she speak to him. She tiptoed forward, without hesitation, and took up a small, black rock. For a moment, she cradled the stone in her arms, looking down at it as tenderly as a woman looks upon her newborn child. "Lady, forgive me," she whispered, so quietly that Odushéyu could not be sure of her words. "Owái, t'ugátriyon…." She turned abruptly and handed the image to Odushéyu, releasing the surprisingly heavy object to his clammy grasp. In the faint light, he thought he saw tears on her immovable cheeks.

  "I need a cloak," he hissed, “something to hide this in."

  She wiped at her face. But when she spoke, her voice betrayed no emotion. "Come back to my chamber and I will see that you get one." Again, she led the way through the shadows and Odushéyu followed, clutching the stone close to his body, his every hair on end.

  As they entered Ariyádna's room, shouts and screams rose from the level of the gates. Antánor and Ainyáh were still there in the chamber, talking quietly. Alarmed at the sudden noise, they bustled Odushéyu from the room. Kluména guided the three men to the tiny bath-chamber which opened off the larger bedroom. She closed the door on them, leaving them in total darkness, standing so close to one another that their arms brushed against each other. The three conspirators stood in silence, listening to their own breathing and the beating of their hearts.

  "Ai, prince Paqúr," they heard Kluména say. "What has happened?"

  The distinctive clatter of bronze rang out. "He is taking off his armor," Ainyáh whispered.

  "Hush," Odushéyu hissed. "We know what he is doing."

  His voice rising in excitement, the Tróyan prince in Ariyádna's chamber announced, "The war is nearly over. It is certain this time. Amusís has agreed to fight a single combat with an Ak'áyan of Agamémnon's choice. They will draw lots in the morning to determine who he will be. Ai, this Amusís is a great fighter, better with a sword than any Ak'áyan you have ever seen. You must watch this time, my 'Elléniya. The Ak'áyans no doubt will pick some slow-footed giant for their champion. Amusís will dance circles around him and cut him to ribbons. Ai,'Elléniya, you are mine forever!"

  Only muffled sounds came through the bath-chamber door, now, a man's grunts and a woman's voice rhythmically calling upon Diwiyána. Odushéyu itched to be gone. Beside him, Antánor and Ainyáh stirred uneasily, their breath coming faster, and all three began to sweat copiously. Paqúr gave one last grunt, louder than the rest and lasting longer. No more sound came through the door but a woman's quiet weeping. At last, Kluména opened the door and released the men. She led them past the two quiet forms on the bed, and out to the palace courtyard.

  The men continued to the northwestern gate of the fortress without further incident. The coolness of the air was especially welcome to their perspiring flesh. Just as they were about to enter the narrow, doorless opening, a guard appeared from the shadows and a violent shudder ran down Odushéyu's spine. The Tróyan guard thrust out his spear and demanded that they stop. Antánor stepped ahead of the other two and Ainyáh grasped Odushéyu by the shoulders.

  "Owái, Díwo," Odushéyu groaned, heart pounding again. "I have been betrayed!"

  "Be still," Ainyáh hissed in the It'ákan's ear.

  "I am Antánor, Alakshándu's counselor and son-in-law," the gray-haired Tróyan bellowed, full of indignation. "How dare you stop me!"

  The guard stepped back, pulling his spear in close to his body. "I, I am…" he stammered.

  "And what do you mean by letting in Lámnayan dogs?" the counselor continued, just as loudly. Ainyáh shoved Odushéyu ahead of him into the winding corridor between the circuit walls. "We do not accept castoffs from our vassals. Throw him out!" Antánor shouted. The guard obediently shoved the It'ákan through the winding passage and kicked Odushéyu's backside, sending him tumbling over the hard ground outside the citadel. Odushéyu lay in the dust a moment, looking back over his bruised shoulder. The guard disappeared again inside. Trembling, the It'ákan examined the small meteoric rock cradled in his arms. The guard had not even noticed it!

  He got to his feet and scurried down the slopes of the hill as quickly as his feet would take him, barely able to contain his glee. To his surprise, the form of a man appeared suddenly, out of the dark. "Odushéyu, is that you?" a voice called quietly.

  The It'ákan started and gasped. Then he recognized the off-center way the man was standing. "Ai gar, Diwoméde," the pirate king growled, "what are you doing here?"

  "Agamémnon told me to guard you, coming and going," the younger man answered. "Do you have what you came for?"

  "What do you know about my mission?" Odushéyu asked, irritated. Before the qasiléyu could reply, the island wánaks began trotting across the plain. Odushéyu easily outdistanced the other man. Raising his prize overhead when he reached the waters of the Sqámandro River, the It'ákan laughed and whooped in triumph, rousing the quiet encampment.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AINYAH

  Agamémnon was pleased to see Odushéyu with the small stone, but not inordinately so. "We may be able to end this thing without your pebble," the high wánaks said, when the It'ákan came to his tent. "Have you heard about the single combat?"

  "What about my tripods?" Odushéyu fumed. "And Alakshándu's wife?"

  Agamémnon laughed, reclining on his pallet. "Ask me when Tróya's walls are down and her buildings burned. Now go. I need my sleep."

  Swallowing his disappointment and anger, the It'ákan asked, "So tell me about the fight. Who will be Ak'áiwiya's champion? Yourself?"

  The overlord chuckled. "I think not. I am getting a bit old for that. The men will toss their tokens and let the gods decide, of course."

  Odushéyu squatted close to the bigger man, grinding his teeth. "Of course, but you know, do you not, that you can hold a token or two under your thumb, to make sure the gods do not make an unsuitable choice. I would not suggest you toss out the token for lady Fortune, you understand. But women, even immortal women, sometimes need a little nudge in the right direction, if you know what I mean." He winked.

  Agamémnon laughed and waved expansively toward a row of jugs in his tent. "I know exactly what you mean, Odushéyu. Ai gar, I have half a mind to make you my qasiléyu at Tíruns when I get back to Argo. You have an answer to everything! Yes, I may have to nudge Lady Luck a bit tomorrow. That Diwoméde has turned out to be quite a little fighter and I am certain he will volunteer in the morning. But, between his wounds and the effects of the poppy, it would be too risky to let him be Ak'áiwiya's chosen."

  aaa

  At dawn, as on many mornings before, the Ak'áyans breakfasted on thin gruel, then armed for battle. At the same time, the Wilúsiyans ate their morning meal of figs and sandy flat bread in their city, and prepared for war as well. Diwoméde found himself scarcely
able to stand, after a sleepless night. His knees buckled every few steps and, after he had fallen in the dust three times, he made no unlucky fourth attempt to rise. T'érsite lifted the qasiléyu on his strong shoulders and took him to Mak'áwon's tent.

  "Dáuniya!" the foot soldier called, drawing the young captive woman from her work at her master's hearth. "Come look at Diwoméde's foot again. And where is Mak'áwon? Not visiting Antílok'o again, is he?"

  "No," the woman answered, entering the tent and kneeling beside the Argive qasiléyu. "He has gone to the assembly at Agamémnon's tent this time. You must have come that way. I am surprised you did not see him."

  T'érsite only grunted, watching as Dáuniya unwrapped Diwoméde's foot and inspected the wound. "Can you heal him?" asked the low ranked man.

  "Possibly," she answered, wrinkling her nose as she tossed aside the dirty bandages. "The condition of his foot is truly disgraceful. The bandages should be changed every day. Ai, look at this! These cloths have collected enough dirt and clay to make a pot with."