Steep Wilusiya (Age of Bronze)

by Diana Gainer

  From the southern tower, Paqúr had watched the T'eshalíyan coming. He hurried down the winding stairs just as the Ak'áyan passed. With his bow in one hand, and a single arrow in the other, the Tróyan chased after the foreign prince who had killed two of his brothers. Ak'illéyu was forced to slow down where the streets were clogged with fallen debris. There the Tróyan caught up with his enemy. With his sole arrow, Paqúr shot the P'ilísta, striking the runner in the back of the leg. The bronze point cut through the sinews and Ak'illéyu fell on his back, crying out in pain.

  Like a pack of wolves descending on a sheep separated from the flock, the Wilúsiyans of the city turned on the fallen T'eshalíyan, stabbing him again and again with their spears and swords. He cried out only once more. But the frenzy of blades did not end until every warrior within striking distance had shed some of the Ak'áyan's blood. Just as quickly, the other sons of Diwiyána who had entered the gate were surrounded and slaughtered. Breathless with joy at this unexpected triumph, the Wilúsiyans formed a circle around Ak'illéyu's mutilated body, their arms on each others' shoulders, and they danced about the corpse.

  "Qántili's killer is dead," Dapashánda cried, rushing into the mégaron of the hilltop palace. There the king and queen raised their hands to the sky, praising the names of all the deities. "Drag the body through the streets!" Eqépa commanded, recalling the mistreatment he had meted out to her own dear son.

  All the royal family turned out to watch Paqúr who, having stripped the body naked, quickly spliced Ak'illéyu's legs to the axle of his new Mízriyan chariot. As the Tróyan prince whipped up the southern horses, Wilúsiya's king and queen spit on the mangled corpse, its arms tossed up as the chariot leaped forward. “Remember Qántili!” the royals shouted.

  Kluména heard the news and, with bloodless fingers, drew Ariyádna out of the palace courtyard where they had been spinning. While the rest of the populace celebrated their minor victory with dancing and singing, the two women from Lakedaimón's holy island shrank away to hide, crouching in the bath-chamber, trembling and expecting the worst. Her head leaning to one side, Ariyádna moved her hands in the air, spinning thread that no one but she could see. "The will of the Bull…" she whispered, as pale as death, "Díwo's chosen does battle for the queen of the fertile land…."

  Below the palace, Alakshándu called to his sons, "Now send word to the Ak'áyan camp. If those dogs want their champion's corpse, they must return every prize taken from the people of Tróya, including the treasures given for Qántili." The populace roared its approval. Once his drive around the city with the famous corpse was done, Paqúr strode to the great southeastern gate. "I will be the one to go to these godless Ak'áyans," he announced with pride. Again the people shouted in agreement.

  But Antánor stopped him, his robes damp with sweat. "Listen, brother-in-law, you are too well known and too hated. The Ak'áyans will not let you live, even if you go under the symbol of peace. Those impious dáimons do not honor the laurel branches. Dapashánda told us that, remember? Let me go instead. None but Meneláwo and Odushéyu know me. And I have had more experience with negotiations than you."

  Paqúr bowed out. "You are right. My sister, Laqíqepa, is lucky her father chose such a wise husband."

  Young Dapashánda stepped forward, his arm still swollen but now unbandaged. "I will come too, brother-in-law. You will need someone to protect you, no matter how good your bargaining skills are."

  Ainyáh laid a hand on Dapashánda's shoulder. "He will need protection, but not from you. Your wound has not yet healed. I will go."

  Alakshándu watched with narrowing eyes as his sons spoke with his sons-in-law. "Take a priest with you," the king said suddenly, his voice guarded in spite of the glorious moment. "Let my son, Érinu, carry the laurel boughs in front of you." He would not be persuaded to change his mind, either. "It is most fitting that the news of Ak'illéyu's death should reach the Ak'áyan camp with one of my sons."

  Watching them go, Alakshándu spoke quietly to Paqúr. "I suspect treachery. Antánor's father always thought he should have been king instead of me. I expected to gain Antánor's loyalty by marrying him to my oldest daughter. But I still do not trust him, not entirely."

  The prince nodded, despite his surprise. "But Ainyáh is a good soldier. He married Kréyusa for love, not for status. With his son still young, he will not betray us."

  "Perhaps, but a soldier's wits are not always a match for those of a cunning traitor," Alakshándu said. "That is why I sent your brother along. Érinu will let us know if anything is going on. He has the divine wisdom of lord Apúluno on his side."

  Paqúr nodded again. "I will have Antánor watched when he returns, just to be safe." When his father agreed, the prince continued, "As for Ainyáh, I doubt that he is a danger to us. But it might be a good idea to have him killed on the battlefield, in the next fight, just the same. Mercenaries are always a potential threat. Even if he is loyal in this war, he could easily betray our secrets in the next."

  Alakshándu smiled. "Good thinking, my son. You will make a fine king some day. We will bring Wilúsiya through this war yet, you and I."

  aaa

  In Agamémnon's tent, grim negotiations began over an early meal. "Return Ariyádna and her treasures now, along with Ak'illéyu's body, and we will gladly go home in our ships," Agamémnon told the Tróyan envoys.

  Antánor responded, "Return the treasures that my king brought you to ransom Qántili’s body and we will give you Ak'illéyu's corpse in exchange. Return our princess Ishqíyanna to us and then we will hand over your 'Elléniyan woman."

  "Nonsense! Ishqíyanna's sons have already begotten sons in Ak'áiwiya," the high wánaks cried indignantly. "How dare you demand her return at this late date!"

  "How do you know the 'Elléniyan woman has not yet given Paqúr a son?" Antánor countered calmly.

  From his seat by his fire, Agamémnon slammed a fist to the ground, raising dust. "It is a good thing my brother is not here. Meneláwo would slit your throat for that!"

  Antánor smiled. "As long as we are speaking of those who are absent, it is a shame that Odushéyu is not here. He could tell you whether Paqúr's captive is pregnant or not. He has seen her."

  This took Agamémnon by surprise and he was speechless for a moment. "Diwoméde," he roared as he remembered the It'ákan's feat the night before. "Send for Odushéyu." After a moment's consideration, he added, "And Aíwaks. He is the closest to a kinsman of Ak'illéyu that we have here. Let him provide a ransom for the madman's body if he likes."

  While they waited for the two lawagétas to appear, the high wánaks and the counselor drank watered wine and eyed each other searchingly. Érinu was troubled, but he could not read the faces of his brothers-in-law or those of his enemies.

  Odushéyu came with a small bundle wrapped in dirty fleece. "You wanted to see me, high wánaks?" he said with exaggerated politeness.

  "Have a seat," Agamémnon growled, gesturing toward the opposite side of his tent.

  The It'ákan made a great show of laying his bundle carefully on the ground, brushing aside ashes and bread crumbs. He repositioned the sheepskin wrapping and held out a hand to receive a wine cup from 'Ékamede. "Wánaks, I am surprised at you," the pirate king said, “bargaining with the Tróyans without your wisest councilor."

  Agamémnon sneered. "Néstor is holding vigil by his son's body."

  Odushéyu's face turned to stone. "I meant myself."

  Antánor smiled.

  Aíwaks came more slowly, his hair covered with fresh dirt from grieving, his nose still oozing blood from the morning's combat. "What is going on here?" he asked, breathlessly, his hand at his hip.

  Ainyáh touched the hilt of his own dagger and began to rise. But the Ak'áyan overlord stood, holding up both his hands, the palms out. "Peace, peace. These men have come under the laurel branches to negotiate a ransom for Ak'illéyu's body."

  Aíwaks kept his hand on his knife. "I ought to slit their throats right here.
That is a good enough ransom."

  This time Ainyáh rose and drew his blade, menacing the big man.

  The high wánaks stepped between the two warriors. "Put down your weapons, both of you," he demanded irritably.

  Antánor was surprised. "Your king is a brave man," the Tróyan counselor marveled to the pirate beside him.

  Odushéyu nodded, just as astonished. "Yes! Aíwaks could take him in a moment." But as he spoke, the tall man backed down, returning his dagger to its sheath.

  Érinu raised his dry branch, somewhat anxiously. "We came under the sign of the god to negotiate with you,” he reminded them all. “M-My king offers you Ak'illéyu's body in return for all you have taken from the people of Wilúsiya."

  Antánor waved impatiently at the young priest. "Now, now, boy. That was an exaggeration for the benefit of the commoners. No need to make such wild statements here."

  The young priest frowned. "Those were his words," he muttered.

  Antánor went on smoothly, "Let me handle the discussions, Érinu. Now, Érinu, you and Ainyáh must go with Aíwaks and get the things Alakshándu once brought to ransom Qántili. Surely we can at least agree on that as a fit ransom for Ak'illéyu, a hero's ransom for a hero?" He turned to Agamémnon with a knowing look, glancing aside at Odushéyu. The high wánaks, too, looked toward Odushéyu, and the pirate nodded slightly.

  "Yes, Aíwaks," said the overlord, gesturing toward the tent flap. "Show them the things Ak'illéyu took for Qántili. Help them load their wagon."

  The big qasiléyu was unhappy and he glared at Ainyáh with special hatred. But he obeyed his king and led the way to the T'eshalíyan section of the camp.

  When they had gone, Antánor lightly touched his beard with the tips of his fingers. "Now, we can talk freely. Alakshándu sent me here to negotiate, just as Érinu said. But Odushéyu has surely told you of our earlier bargain?"

  Agamémnon turned to the It'ákan, his jaw tightening with distaste. "Tell me again, Odushéyu. I seem to have forgotten the details."

  The pirate king leaned back on his elbows and crossed his legs, making a show of how relaxed he was. "Antánor and Ainyáh have both realized that the Tróyans cannot win. They will help us take the citadel in return for a guarantee of safety for themselves and their families."

  Agamémnon could not keep from turning to look at Antánor in astonishment.

  The councilor nodded. "The loss of the sacred stone has remained a secret, unfortunately. For that reason, it has not had its expected effect. The people do not press for peace, believing that the sacred idol still protects them. And we cannot reveal its loss without admitting our part in its theft. So, we realize we must do more to enable you to take the fortress. My plan is this. Ainyáh and I have decided that we will tell Alakshándu that we have negotiated an end to the war," he told them, his fingers beating a silent rhythm against each other, revealing the excitement that his face and voice hid. "You hold Ak'illéyu's funeral. We burn our dead. Both sides exchange gifts, nothing important, perhaps a few women, just enough to show that friendship has been restored between our two peoples. You Ak'áyans burn your camp and take your ships out to sea. The last of our allies will return home and our farmers will go back to their homes outside the citadel. Tróya will celebrate. At our signal, your ships will return by night. Ainyáh will let you in through one of the gates and you will take the fortress."

  The Argive wánaks was speechless for some time, staring at the Tróyan. "How do I know you will not betray me, seal yourselves behind your gates, and send for further reinforcements? Why should you turn against your own capital city?"

  Antánor's eyes grew hard. "Why should I sit by and watch as the best of Wilúsiya's manhood is killed or maimed in this endless war? What are we fighting about anyway? Women! Ishqíyanna has probably forgotten the names of the Wilúsiyan gods by now. I cannot even count how many good men have gone down to 'Aidé for this evil mainád from 'Elléniya. How many more must die before the princes have their fill of battles? Five hundred? Ten hundred? Or ten times ten hundred!”

  Agamémnon stood and paced about his tent, stroking his beard, looking from time to time at the visitor. "You are a councilor. Why do you not simply advise your king to end the war?"

  "Do you really believe that I have not?" Antánor hissed, leaning forward. "But he does not listen to me! I am his own son-in-law and his wisest councilor. But he treats me like a stranger. He listens only to those misbegotten sons of his. 'It is a matter of honor,' they say. And he believes them. 'The women themselves do not matter,' he says. 'A true man does not give up anything until he is forced to.' By all the gods, I am a man but I am tired of seeing my kinsmen die because of Paqúr's lust for areté. An end to it, I say!"

  Agamémnon studied the man as Antánor struggled to regain his usual calm demeanor. "No doubt," the overlord said, "you will rule in Alakshándu's place when we have done our part."

  The councilor's eyes burned. "And why not? The old man is feeble-minded. A change is long overdue. I would never have brought such a war on Wilúsiya in the first place without checking for the emperor's support to begin with. We would never have come to such ruin if I had been king instead of Alakshándu."

  "Ai," Agamémnon murmured, still musing. His eyes fell upon Odushéyu's bundle. "What about this Qalladiyón? Here it is in our hands but Tróya remains inaccessible. Were you lying to my spy?"

  Odushéyu started, stung by the label. "I am a wánaks, not a spy," he protested.

  Antánor was too furious to keep still. He stood and blasted the high wánaks with his rage. "You have the heart of a fawn! What is wrong with you? I have made you a valuable offer and you are quibbling over a rock from the sky! The priestesses have been so busy with their infernal lamentations for the dead that they simply have not noticed that it is gone. But that does not matter. With my help you can take Tróya in any case. Make your decision, now, before Érinu comes back. He does not know about this and he cannot be told. Alakshándu probably sent him with us as a spy."

  Odushéyu again nodded discreetly at his overlord. "It is a good plan."

  Agamémnon snorted. "It is too simple. What makes the two of you think that Alakshándu will accept such a small ransom? Érinu said that Alakshándu demanded everything, all we had taken. Ak'illéyu got little enough for Qántili and half of that is probably missing by now , since the T'eshalíyan has been unable to defend his spoils. The Kep'túriyans lost more men than any other kingdom, while Ak'illéyu was sulking in his hut. I would imagine that they helped themselves to the better part of the P'ilísta's goods the moment they heard he was dead."

  "If the king objects to the size of the ransom we send for Ak'illéyu, we will just bring out the Qalladiyón and smash it to pieces with our axes. They can watch from their walls," Odushéyu suggested, before the visitor could answer. He leaned back on his elbows with the same half-smile that Néstor had once displayed.

  The high wánaks smiled too, but his was full and warm. "Very well, but we will have to speak again to work out the details. We must decide on your signal, which gate, and so on."

  Antánor nodded. "Certainly. For now, let us say that a truce has been declared to give both sides time to burn the dead. During the truce we will negotiate further for a final conclusion to this untimely conflict."

  Agamémnon nodded again, just as Ainyáh and Érinu returned with the big qasiléyu. "Aíwaks," the high wánaks said, his face quickly somber again, "see that these men are escorted safely back to the city. Pull the wagon for them." Astonished and angrier than ever, the big man did as his overlord commanded.

  aaa

  Back in the palace of Tróya, Antánor reported on the result of the embassy. "This is a poor ransom, my lord," he said to the aging king. "I realize that. But the Ak'áyans are godless men and that makes negotiations unusually difficult."

  Alakshándu's face reddened with fury. "My son tells me that you did not drive a hard bargain."

  The councilor was taken aback. "Érinu wa
s not there throughout the negotiations. He does not know all that went on."

  "He knows what he heard and he has told me of your treachery," the old monarch bellowed.

  "But, but, Alakshándu," Antánor cried, his arms rising and beating at the air, as he was completely taken aback by the old man’s hostility. "You must listen. There is more to be said. Surely Érinu did not tell you this. Agamémnon wishes to negotiate a marriage to one of your daughters, to ensure a lasting peace. It was with good reason that I took it upon myself to accept only the ransom you paid for Qántili in exchange for Ak'illéyu's body. This was to maintain cordial relations for the purpose of those more important negotiations. Piyaséma is young and could make herself a home in any land. Or…or…Kashánda is well known for her piety and her duties in the service of the goddesses. Such a wife would command a tremendous bride-price, enough to replenish your depleted storerooms. Besides that, you would be ending an evil war and gaining a powerful ally."