Conspiracy of the Islands (The Age of Bronze)

by Diana Gainer

  "If he is lying, you know that Díwo must send the soul of his own dead mother up out of 'Aidé to torment him," Diwoméde said matter-of-factly. "Accept the oath, Ainyáh. And take your seats, men. The Lúkiyans are notorious pirates. They must have been the ones who sacked the towns of Kanaqán. Ai, we had enough of their cruelty at Tróya to curse their descendants forever.

  "But now, I want to hear about Odushéyu's fascinating journey. The native Kep'túriyans sailed west for generations, but they are closer kin to Assúwans than to us, or so my father used to say. I have heard of no true Ak'áyan who has been to the Bull Country. I believe that even your kinsmen have never gone that way, Ainyáh. Tell us about this ítalo place, then, Odushéyu. Is that where those monstrous men live, the Kuklóqes?"

  "Kuklóqes?" asked Ainyáh only half believing the qasiléyu's explanation. "Round-Eyes? I have never heard of that tribe." But he backed away from Odushéyu and returned to his carved, wooden chair by the painted hearth.

  The It'ákan righted his own chair and sat, just as his knees were giving way beneath him. Wiping a damp forehead, he eagerly began his tale anew with a grateful look at the qasiléyu. "Yes, Diwoméde, you are right. The Kuklóqes live in the ítalo land. They are so tall that they scrape their heads against the bowl of the sky when they travel far to the north. Trees are like bushes to them. It is said that if they all pissed at the same place, they would create a new river."

  Ainyáh was listening, his beardless chin in his hand. But he was not convinced. And Peirít'owo kept his eyes to the floor, grinding his teeth.

  Diwoméde helpfully asked, "Is it true that each has a single eye in the middle of his forehead?"

  "It is!" Odushéyu agreed with rather too much enthusiasm. "Ai, those evil creatures were nearly the death of all my men. We pulled our longboats up on their shores when it was nearly dark. There were no people to be seen and we thought the place was uninhabited. But when the sun came up, the flocks of the Kuklóqes were all around us. Ai gar, you have never seen sheep like those! Each was as tall as a Wilúsiyan horse and twice as fat. We slaughtered a single one and it gave enough meat to feed us all! No man was hungry when we finished that meal." He leaned back in his chair, smacking his lips and rubbing his lean belly, as if recalling the splendid feast.

  Ainyáh rolled his eyes again, and Peirít'owo shook his head. But, this time, neither man interrupted.

  Odushéyu talked quickly, his voice growing ever louder, his gestures fuller, as he went on. "I told my crew that we should take one sheep in each ship, while we had the chance, and sail away. For if the flocks were that big, how much bigger must the shepherd be! But Idómeneyu would not listen to me. He was always an arrogant man, full of self-importance. Just because he commanded twice as many longboats as I did, he thought he was twice as wise. He ordered us to follow the sheep when night fell, so that we might see what other riches there were in that country."

  "By the gods…," Peirít'owo began, clenching his fists. But Diwoméde motioned to him to be still. Ainyáh caught the qasiléyu's movement out of the corner of his eye and stared hard at each man in turn.

  "Owái," the It'ákan moaned dramatically, throwing his head back. His wail made the mégaron echo, recapturing Ainyáh's attention. "We followed the flock all the way into their pen, that night. That was no ordinary pen, either, but a cave stretching far into the bowels of a mountain. Inside was the shepherd, one of the Kuklóqes. I will never forget the sight of that great, round eye, as red and fiery as the flames here in the hearth and as big as a wagon wheel! The Kuklóq saw us with that ghastly eye and before we knew what to make of him, he had caught two of my men by the feet. He raised them up above his head, them screaming and crying for mercy the whole time. But he ignored their pleas and dashed their heads against the stone walls of the cave, until their brains spilled out over the floor." With a wide sweep of his arm, Odushéyu demonstrated the deadly blow.

  Dáuniya gasped with as much drama as the storyteller displayed. The Kanaqániyan listened now, with rapt attention. Even Peirít'owo found himself drawn by the tale, although he knew the old pirate was lying. The It'ákan gazed with empty eyes for a moment, saying nothing. At length, he shook his head and wiped his eyes. In a low voice, he said, "The monster did it as easily as if they were unwanted puppies. But what followed was still worse. He brought the dead men up to his mouth. A foul stench came out of that great, gaping hole, the smell of death and decay. The Kuklóq tossed the bodies in and ground them to dust between teeth that were as big as boulders that roll from the top of a mountain. Owái, we were so frightened we could not think!" He paused again, glancing around as if afraid that the monster might step in at any time.

  His voice rose again and he spoke quickly, earnestly, waving his arms. "As quick as I could, I turned toward the open mouth of the cave, beckoning to my men to follow. They came, but the gods were not with us that day. Owái, we were too slow! The Kuklóq saw us run, and before we could reach the door, he shut it with a great boulder. We tried our best to move that stone, but it weighed more than all our combined strength could move. We were trapped! That was a night that I will always remember, one that visits me in evil dreams to this day, although it has been ten years since it ended."

  The pirate exile shuddered at the thought and Diwoméde found himself shivering, too. The qasiléyu, also recalled a time when he had been held captive, when he and his men had lain and suffered in darkness, behind an immovable door. His hand moved instinctively to the knot on his shoulder, rubbing away the remembered pain of the long-healed wound.

  "In the morning," Odushéyu went on in a loud whisper, "the monster had another two of my men for his breakfast. These were strong warriors, men who had survived twelve long months of brutal warfare. But they were as helpless as suckling pigs in that wicked place. The giant caught them up in his massive hand, dashed out their brains as quick as you please, and devoured them like a handful of pine nuts! Then the Kuklóq rolled the stone from the doorway and drove out his sheep. Even then, we could not make our escape, because he closed the door again, as soon as the flock was outside. All day, we waited in total darkness, so black that you could not see the hand in front of your face, dreading his return. Two more men died that night, to feed that evil being, and each of us prayed to all the gods we knew, thinking that our own deaths were near.

  "A second night and a third day we spent, just as miserably, awaiting our doom. Ai, we wished we had been taken captive and sold into slavery by evil Lúkiyans, rather than suffer this fate. We wished that we had been slain at Tróya, pierced by the sharp bronze. But all our wishes came to nothing."

  No sound interrupted the It'ákan's tale when he paused to swallow a bit more wine. Diwoméde shrank back against his throne, recalling his own similar wishes in Attika, a decade earlier. His arms folded protectively over his broad chest. Even Ainyáh's face had lost its harsh edges. He and the Kep'túriyan youth listened attentively now.

  The serving woman and the laborer had stationed themselves by the wine-bowl. Seeing the shadow that crossed the qasiléyu's face, T'érsite nodded to Dáuniya. The woman knelt at Odushéyu's feet, a hand to her mouth. Her movement caught Diwoméde's eye. "But then, on the third night," the pirate said, a gleam in his eye, "the goddess came to me in a dream. Lady At'ána has always favored me, no matter what evils the other gods place in my path. At'ána was with me in ítalo, no less than at Tróya. She gave me the wisdom to discover a way out of that ghastly trap."

  He leaned forward, toward Ainyáh, whispering as if to a fellow conspirator. "As soon as darkness fell, the Kuklóq lay down and slept. Then I gathered those of my companions who still survived and told them my plan. We took up the shepherd's staff that the monster used each day. It was a heavy beam, as big as the trunk of a tree that has grown, straight and tall, for a generation of men. With our swords and daggers, we carved a long point at one end of that bean. It took all of us to do the work because of the size of that great staff. Next, we hardened the point in the
dying fire at the Kuklóq's own hearth. Praying to the gods, we waited until the monster was sleeping soundly, rattling the very walls of the mountain with his great snores. Then, quiet as little mice, we bore this stake to his head. While the point was still hot, we plunged it into his eye!" Odushéyu shouted the last phrase, leaping to his feet with a plunging motion of his hands.

  The woman kneeling at his feet gasped and threw herself out of his way, as if afraid that he would attack her.

  "A-a-ai!" the aging pirate cried, his voice making the great hall ring as he demonstrated how the monster had howled. "The Kuklóq shrieked in agony. There was a terrible hissing sound, too, when the hot wood pierced that monstrous eye. Steam rose so thick around us that we were blinded. But we did not stop there! Ai, no! Although the monster's hands cast about him, right and left, trying to catch those who had wounded him, we were too quick. We dodged those deadly hands and turned that stake around and around in the eye socket, just as a carpenter turns the drill around and around in the wood, to make a hole for the dowel. The Kuklóq roared so loud that we thought the mountain would fall in upon us! But we kept at our work in spite of our fear. Any fate was better than what that monster had in store for us!" He had been shouting and leaping about, demonstrating all the movements. But now, he sat again, wiping sweat from his brow, wetting his lips with more red wine.

  Ainyáh, fighting the urge to believe, asked, "But how did you get out of the cave? You saved your lives when you killed the giant, but you could not move the stone from the door. You said so, yourself."

  Odushéyu raised a hand, still drinking. "I was just about to tell you," he said, at last, when the cup was drained. He drew the back of his hand across his lips and stubbly chin, wiping away drops of wine. "But you see, we did not kill the Kuklóq. No, if we had done that, we would have died inside the mountain, just as you say, Ainyáh. But I had thought of that. We only blinded the monster."

  Ainyáh nodded approvingly. Despite himself, Peirít'owo also had become intrigued with the tale. He scooted his chair closer to that of the former slave.

  The It'ákan continued. "In the morning, the giant rolled away the stone at the door, seating himself right beside the opening. Ai, his groans were terrible, shaking rocks down continuously, like deadly rain. But he was a clever one, that Kuklóq." He raised one hand, shaking his index finger, and grinning, to show his grudging admiration for the wiliness of the monster. "As each of his sheep passed through the door to the outside, he felt of its back. Then, we knew that we could not walk out like free men. Our hearts fell and our livers shrank in our chests."

  Dáuniya put her hands to her cheeks with a small, "Ai!"

  "But At'ána was with me still. I had a plan for this, too. Each man selected one of those giant sheep and hung beneath it, clinging to the fleece of the stomach. The Kuklóq felt only the woolly back of the animal and did not know that a man was escaping at the same time." He chuckled lightly, his hairy shoulders moving up and down. "As for me, I had to search for quite some time to find a sheep big enough to hide my broad shoulders. The biggest ram was the only one that would do. But even I was not detected by the Kuklóq and we made our escape. Once outside, we hurried to our ships. Ai, but I am a pious man, as all of you should know by now. Before we set sail, I insisted that we sacrifice the ram that had protected me, dedicating it to At’ána Pótniya. This we did, so that the Lady would continue to protect us."

  A whispered sigh came from Dáuniya, as she released the breath she had been holding. Odushéyu leaned back in his chair with a loud sigh of his own and raised his bronze cup to his mouth.

  "Did the monster follow you?" Peirít'owo asked quietly.

  The question caught Odushéyu unaware, as he was drinking. He nearly choked. But as soon as his windpipe was clear, an answer rolled off his lips, easily. "Yes, yes, in fact, he did. But it took him some time to find that we were gone and he did not know which way we had gone. And of course he could not see us. But he followed, yes. The Kuklóq has only the one eye, naturally, but his nose has as many nostrils as a man's. His sense of smell, as it turns out, is as keen as that of the best hunting dog, unfortunately. He smelled us and followed the scent to the shore, just as we were finishing the sacrifice to At'ána. He roared when he found us. Aar!" With great energy he demonstrated the Kuklóq's throaty bellow, causing the serving woman at his feet to squeak with pretended fear and throw herself face down on the floor. "We were hard pressed to get our longboats out to sea, before he was upon us! Even then, we were not completely safe. He began to throw great boulders and uprooted trees, which he cast into the water as easily as a man does a spear." He rose to his feet, making casting motions with his arms. The last throw overbalanced him and he nearly fell. Recovering his balance and his dignity, he straightened his belt and sat once more. "Still, he could not see us, so his aim was poor. Thanks be to the goddess, he missed our ships, and we got away."

  Now completely drunk, Odushéyu missed the signal Diwoméde made to end the story. "Now I will tell you where we went next. There is a large island south of ítalo where no one lives but one of Artémito's handmaidens. This mainád is named Kalúpso and she is more beautiful than any woman on earth. She caught us with her magic wiles, when we were rounding up her cattle. All my men she transformed into pigs, because of their greed. Even a pirate should not touch sacred flocks. We all know that."

  Peirít'owo mirthlessly shook his head, bitter laughter on his lips. "Is no lie too great?" he muttered, knowing that the It'ákan would not hear.

  Beside him, Ainyáh's face suddenly hardened. "What is this? Are these nothing but sailor's lies, after all?"

  "Odushéyu, tell us about Mízriya," Diwoméde called out, alarmed.

  "Lies?" Odushéyu took on a look of injured innocence. "How can you accuse me of such a thing? Me, your dear friend? I tell you, Pótniya Kalúpso held me captive, because she desired me for her husband…"

  Ainyáh shouted, "Last night, you told me that her name was Kirké and her island was in the Okéyano River! You have deceived me, you dog! It was you who sacked the fortresses of my kinsmen, after all! It is my enemy that I have saved from Mízriyan captivity!" He drew his dagger, the bronze blade gleaming in the firelight. Peirít'owo rose quickly to support him. With a small squeal, Dáuniya scrambled out of the way of the furious men, toward the throne.

  Diwoméde was on his feet in an instant as well, his own knife drawn. "T'érsite!" he shouted, and the workman signaled for his armed men waiting in the doorway. The qasiléyu advanced on his testy guests, moving quickly in spite of his limp, hopping on his good foot before briefly touching down the injured one. "Put down your weapons or you are dead men!" His soldiers rushed through the double doors leading to the mégaron, their spears ready, round shields of spotted ox-hide on their left arms.

  Reluctantly, Ainyáh and the young Kep'túriyan sheathed their weapons, once more, in the face of the more numerous Argives. But neither man was happy. "I came here in friendship, to deliver one ally to another," Ainyáh complained to Diwoméde. "Now, you treat me as if I were an enemy, threatening me before the food has dried on the tables."

  "Yes," Peirít'owo cried, "you have no honor!"

  "No guest has the right to kill another, not without the consent of his host," the qasiléyu countered. "That is the law of Diwiyána. If you kill my ally, in my own house, you are my enemy and not my friend at all."

  "I was always a far better ally to you, than this pirate will ever be!" Ainyáh cried, gesturing toward Odushéyu. "If it had not been for my help, you would never have taken Tróya! What is more, I still hold power in that city, which is more than this so-called friend can claim for himself, anywhere in the world."

  With Argive spearmen at his back, Odushéyu loudly defended himself. "If any man can take credit for sacking Tróya, it is Odushéyu! I stole the Qalladiyón from Tróya before you ever made your offer to turn traitor, Ainyáh. The city was doomed without its sacred idol, and you knew it. That is why you came to us, in th
e first place, simply to save your own skin when the inevitable end came! As for power, I was wánaks of the holy island of It'áka once, and I will be so again. At'ána will not fail me."

  "Queen Penelópa will have something to say about that," Peirít'owo observed.

  "Silence, all of you!" Diwoméde demanded and, as his spearmen stepped forward, the visitors obeyed. "I thank you, Ainyáh, for your help at Tróya, and for bringing my friends to me, today. But, what more do you want from me, at this point? My messenger says that you have brought slaves here, to trade for grain and oil. Let us talk business."

  "What you have been told is true," Ainyáh answered through clenched teeth. "Odushéyu is the first slave I wish to sell."

  "Sell!" Odushéyu cried in fury. "I bought my freedom from you in Mízriya, you pirate!"

  "Take him away and lock him in a storeroom," Diwoméde commanded the assembled guards, pointing to the It'ákan. "And take Peirít'owo to my guestrooms and keep him there." Alhough the Ak'áyan exiles cursed their Argive host, they went without resistance. When they were gone, Diwoméde turned again to his other guest. "Very well, Ainyáh. I will pay for Odushéyu's liberty and for Peirít'owo as well, if I that is your wish. What do you want for them? Be reasonable, now. I cannot give you what I do not have. Rain has hardly fallen in more than ten years and this is a poor country. So, do not waste your breath asking for grain."

  "I know where grain is scarce and where it is plentiful," Ainyáh answered. "That is not what I have come for. Attika and Wórdo alone, out of all the Ak'áyan lands, have escaped the disastrous drought. Powerful gods must be watching over them to give them prosperity in the face of so much calamity. That is what I want for my city, divine protection. You must return the Qalladiyón to me."

  Diwoméde was surprised. "How did you know that I had it?"

  "I make it my business to know such things."

  The qasiléyu shrugged. "Very well, it is of no use to me. You may have it." He gestured to T'érsite to fetch the idol. "But then, you must leave my country, Ainyáh. No host entertains a guest for long, in these evil times."