“Okay, so why is my ship not ‘neutral ground’ but yours is?”
“It will be once the soldiers manning the vessel climb aboard your ship, leaving our barge to the two of us. Does that sound fair to you, Troy of Troy?”
“If that’s what you insist, then sure. I can jump through this little hoop for you, but on one condition.”
“What is your condition?”
“I don’t want all of your guys on my boat while I’m gone. That would be way more tension than is necessary. When your barge comes here, have all of your men get in that little rowboat you came in on.”
She looked to her other men. They did not seem happy at the prospect of being sectioned off to this little craft.
She turned back to me and said, “We can do that. The boat may not fit them all comfortably, but I think it should stay afloat.”
“Well, all right then,” I said, forcing a fake smile. I made an effort to uncross my arms to appear a little less standoffish. This whole situation was getting sketchy, and they had more than enough reason to retaliate after what we did to them. I needed to proceed with caution, but I did not want to scare her away or force things to turn sour in spite of my own suspicions. If they could help Priam, I needed that more than anything else at the moment. In an attempt to help release a little tension, I said, “You never told me your name.”
“Ah, what am I thinking?” She shook her head at her own absent-mindedness. “I am Matanaza, Hittite princess and daughter of King Mursili.”
She turned her head back in the direction of the shore, and my gaze followed hers. We could see her barge approaching us now, but there was still plenty of time to blow with superficial conversation.
“So, Troy, what is this secretive place of your birth like? What did you call it?”
“The United States. It’s wonderful. We have technology you probably would not believe and more freedom than people know what to do with. That’s not to say that all that freedom is a good thing. It often gets a lot of people in trouble because they don’t know how to run their lives, but those people have no one to blame but themselves when things go south.”
She looked around the ship and said, “If your boat is any indication of the kind of wonders that your home can manufacture, then I can only imagine what else it has to offer.” She giggled but had not turned back to me when she said, “It is funny what you say about freedom. I do not fully understand what you mean.”
“It’s a broad subject. But, as an example, people have the freedom to do whatever they want for a living, as long as they meet the requirements of the job. There are schools that teach you what you need to know for just about any kind of job you can imagine, and most of those schools are open to anyone, assuming they have the means to pay. Around here, I see a lot of people simply doing what their parents do for a living because they have no other real option. It’s not like that where I come from.”
“That . . . flexibility does sound appealing,” she said and then laughed again. “So, does this mean you could go to school and learn to be a king if you had enough funds?”
“I mean, kind of, yeah,” I said, hoping to see the shock of my response outlined on her face. I was only mildly disappointed because I think she managed to hold some of her surprise in. “Our political system is different than what you see around here. Where you have members of a ruling class—I’m assuming your government is similar to Troy’s—the United States has elected officials. You can go to school to learn politics, which I imagine has a lot to do with catering to voters, and from there you can try to get elected somewhere, which usually only happens if you can get one of the main parties to back you as a candidate. Theoretically, anyone can do it, even climbing all the way to the top as head of the nation, assuming you meet the age requirement and are native-born.”
“That sounds . . . disorganized,” she said. “Who elects these officials? Do other officials do this?”
“No, the people do the voting. I mean, the other officials vote, too, but their votes don’t count any more than anyone else’s. Candidates are even allowed to vote for themselves.”
“The people vote?” she said, looking disgusted. She had clearly given up on hiding her emotions at this point. “That . . . that sounds like what I hear they do in Athens.”
Oh yeah, I thought. I had completely forgotten that ancient Greece had a lot of democratic ideas. I found it interesting that Matanaza specifically mentioned Athens instead of the entire nation in general. Perhaps, I thought, the city-states of Greece were allowed a bit of freedom in how they conducted their politics. I decided it would be best not to mention any of this to Helen. She hated anything that reminded her of the Greeks with a passion, and the last thing I needed was for her to feel that way about my homeland.
“Maybe it is similar,” I said. “I don’t know. I haven’t been there.”
“I do not understand why anyone with an iota of brains would think it smart to allow the common person to have a say in politics. They do not know how affairs of state work. How can they be trusted to elect people who do?”
I had to laugh. “That’s a topic of hot debate. A lot of people feel the way you do back home. It definitely has its ups and downs, I’ll admit. But what form of government doesn’t?”
Instead of responding directly, she rolled her eyes and changed the subject, saying, “How is it that you came to Troy, then?”
“That’s a long story. How about you tell me a little bit about what you know about King Priam’s sickness while we wait on your boat to get here?”
“All in good time, Troy. I would be breaking my laws to discuss it further right now.”
I exhaled in frustration. “The man is dying. I need answers as soon as I can get them. Can I trust that you will tell me how to heal him when we get on that ship? That is, assuming you know how to heal him.”
“If I know,” she said, “I will suggest an arrangement that is agreeable to the both of us once we are on the ship.”
The barge had arrived ten minutes later, and Matanaza stayed true to her word, telling her men to board their tiny rowboat while we discussed the situation.
There was not much to the ship. It was rectangular, flat, and made of wood. Its longest side was about the length of my boat from front to back, and the other side was not much smaller, though the difference was enough to be noticeable. In the center of the barge was a small structure that kept the outside world from view. It was here that we both took a seat across from each other, the distance between us bridged by a polished wooden table.
This room was well stocked with weapons. Racks of swords, spears, and shields spanned its walls. According to the Princess, this was “neutral ground.” I supposed the dozens of weapons surrounding us were considered to be neutral so long as they did not end up in anyone’s hands. I had disarmed myself at her request before boarding, and she handed her previously concealed knives to one of the men that had accompanied her in the rowboat. Her weapons of choice were another sudden reminder of Helen, though the Princess’s were not so jagged and crude.
“So,” she opened, “how is Priam’s condition?”
“It hurts for him to move. He can speak, but only in short bursts. From what I’ve seen, he sleeps most of the time, but his mental faculties all seem to be there when he’s awake. Let’s get to the bottom of things. Can you fix it or not?”
She replied with a half-nod and said, “Yes, my people have the means to undo the curse. Only a handful in our kingdom know how the magic works, and I do not know how to undo it myself, but I can fetch someone from Hattusa who can.”
“Okay, good. So, the Egyptians aren’t involved in any way with this?”
“I have heard that the Egyptian priests have many powerful magics at their disposal. They may know about the specific crafts practiced by our elites, but they have had no involvement with your king’s sickness.”
“All right, so what do you want from us?”
There was a long pause, durin
g which she looked me over, seeming to fixate on parts of my body other than my face. It appeared as if she had something else on her mind than pragmatic politics.
“Our nation is looking to expand, Troy. It is always looking to expand. You say you are a Trojan prince. What benefits does this title bestow upon you other than status?”
“The most important thing, to me anyway, is that I was given a nice chunk of land just north of Dardanelles on which to build my own kingdom. I call it Port Superior. It’s not much now, but in a year or two, well, we’ll see what happens. I have a lot of plans and high hopes for its future.”
“You sound like an ambitious man, Troy.” She grinned. “Our nation could help your small kingdom a great deal, if you were to help us in return.”
“Okay, but how?” I was intrigued but was almost certain that she was about to ask something of me that I would not be willing to do.
“My father is old—older than the king of Troy. Like you, he is a man of ambition. He intends to leave his mark on the world before he is gone and wants to guarantee that his empire will be left in the hands of capable men even after he has left this earth. If you, Troy, swear fealty to him, we will cure your king of the curse he is suffering from and leave your haven of Port Superior to its own devices. I would have to consult my father on this last part as I do not have the authority to grant such a claim, but I know that he will accept. It is likely that he will want to establish trade with you. What do you say to this?”
“That sounds nice so far, but I know there’s something you’re not telling me. What about the kingdom of Troy? Will you guarantee peace for them?”
“I make no guarantees as far as they are concerned. They have a substantial amount of territory under their control, and as I have said, my father wishes to expand. Bloodshed is always our last resort, so it is fortunate that you happened upon us last night. Even though you murdered one of our political officials, I think my father would agree that it was a fair trade if we are able to establish an agreement because of it. It sounds as if the King and Queen put a great deal of trust in you. That could be of invaluable diplomatic use to us if you were to convince them to give us part of their kingdom. No blood would need to be spilled if you were capable of that, and I know my father would look at you fondly.”
“Yeah, I’m going to stop you right there,” I said, abruptly standing. “I’m not going to betray the people of Troy. I appreciate the offer, but I’m not about to sign my soul away to a king who indiscriminately poisons people that have what he wants. I can’t trust a person like that.”
She stood, too, but was not finished with her offer. “I understand your position, Troy, but do not think of it as a betrayal. You would be helping everyone this way. Not only would it give your Port Superior the boost it needs to grow, but you would be saving thousands of Trojan lives if you could bring about a peaceful resolution. Do you not understand this?”
“I hear you, but it wouldn’t be me saving those people. It would be me selling out. Your daddy could save them a whole lot easier if he just didn’t plan to attack Troy to get land. What you’re implying he plans to do if I don’t go along with you is borderline evil. It’s practically blackmail.”
I went for the door, but she met me halfway and stopped my escape, placing her hand around my wrist.
“Troy, I agree with you that my father’s methods are senseless and barbaric, but please listen.” Her eyes showed a sense of earnestness that caught me off guard. I was beginning to wonder if she was not entirely happy with the way her dad ran his kingdom. What she followed up with told me as much. “My father has killed many innocent people during his reign, and he talks as if he has no plans of stopping. Yet, as I have explained, he is very old. He will not be with us much longer. I doubt he even has the time to follow through with any more grand plans to bring another proud nation to its knees. The energy is simply not in him any longer.”
“What are you really suggesting I do, then?” I was starting to get irritated with her and wishing she would just get to her main point already instead of dancing around it like she appeared to be doing the whole time.
“If we were to reach some kind of agreement,” she said, “not only would you have the backing of the entire Hittite empire and the cure which you desire, but I would insist that my father allow you to take me as your bride.”
My hands were both at my sides then. She took one and placed it on her breast. I could feel her tender flesh bow to the pressure of my metal hands, the layer of red silk between them providing no more of a barrier to the sensation than empty air.
A thousand thoughts flashed through my mind then. She was beautiful, and there was nothing stopping us from doing what she wanted. I wondered for a moment what it would mean to her if I followed through, but I decided I didn’t care. It did not matter to me what she made of it. Her offer of this tentative peace was a sword held over Troy’s head, too slimy for me to ever consider. I put my reservations to rest for the time being and allowed the moment to take me where it willed.
My other hand found its way to her buttocks, again with the fabric of the dress providing no resistance to the sensation. I squeezed and drew her in closer, moving my hand from her chest to her back.
She placed both arms on my chest then with a quiet gasp, bracing herself against my pull. That was funny to me. She initiated the action, but here she was seeming to resist my advances on impulse. I waited for her to make the next move to make sure that she had not decided against it after all.
Matanaza looked up into my eyes, paralyzing me with her gaze as if it were a siren’s song, and hung her arms around my neck. She pulled on my head, beckoning it to drop a little lower, and I accepted the invitation. Our lips locked in a long passionate kiss that I should have felt less comfortable with. To me, this was not a moment of passion; it was simply and exchange of lustful desires. Something about the kiss made the whole thing seem more heartfelt than I wanted it to be. But, again, I decided to let her make what she wanted of it.
I invaded her mouth with my tongue. She wrapped her arms around my neck tighter, pressing her body more firmly against mine. I could feel her nipples pressing against my shirt, which she removed seconds later. She was feeling my chest with her hands, and then my stomach, running her palms greedily all up and down my body wherever she could reach. I wondered if her evening with the aristocrat the previous night had started much the same.
It was not long before her hands found their way into my pants, vigorously stroking my member back and forth like it was dispensing gold coins with every tug. I undid the button and unzipped them myself, doubtful she was familiar with clothing in the style of my time. All the men I had encountered during my time near the Mediterranean either wore tunics or simple trousers held in place by belts of rope. She giggled as my pants popped open, allowing her easier access.
Matanaza moved one hand back up to my neck while she continued stroking me with the other, and I guided her back against a wall. There was not much place for us to rest against it without colliding with a weapons rack, so we had to be content against the constant groaning of spears and swords as we rocked from side to side, locked in our building passion.
I will admit there was a special appeal to me at the idea that Hittite warriors would come into contact with these weapons later, having no idea what was forced upon them by their Princess and a foreign enemy.
I gave her no hint when I went inside, sparing only a second to lift her dress and dive right in. Her fingers were still curled around me as I plowed through, her eyes widening to capacity in surprised realization, their spell constantly forcing me to keep contact. I felt her hand find its way to my back, sinking her nails in as she braced for repeated impacts.
It was then that I saw the feral side of her which had been lurking beneath the surface. She moaned like an animal, both hands clawing away at me in wild cries for more. Her hands pulled me further in with each thrust, the hanging weapons scraping against each other, danci
ng to our violent rhythm. My skin began to shine with sweat, and a lock of her hair spilled down, bobbing with the motion of our union.
She wailed, and I grabbed her neck with one hand. Her glare of defiance mirrored mine as we rocked back and forth, our faces so close that our noses were touching. I realized in that moment that we were on different pages when it came to issues of statecraft, but she was not yet done trying to convince me of her view.
In an almost comical fashion, she brushed my hand from her neck and pushed me backward. She could not have pulled it off if I did not allow her, but I was willing to see where this fierce Princess wanted to lead me.
I bumped against the table, discovering that it was anchored to the floor. Her hands were on my shoulders, and she pushed me all the way down so that my back met the counter. I laughed out loud then, but that only encouraged her to bolster her efforts. She was riding me on top in a way, except for the fact that my legs were still planted on the floor. Her hands made their way to my wrists as if she thought she could actually hold me down.
I let her have the moment.
The thrusting was all because of her. I wondered if she actually thought she had any power over me and had to laugh again, this time thinking of her as one of those miniature dogs that acts like they can take on any Rottweiler that crosses their path.
She continued the futile display of dominance for several more minutes until I decided she had had enough. With no more effort than it took to pull the bedsheets off as I rose each morning, I took back possession of my wrists and was on my feet. She was startled and paused long enough for me to swivel us around and place her backside against the table.
“I’m going to show you how that actually works,” I said.
I tore open her blouse and held her hands above her hand in one of mine. With the other hand, I lifted her the rest of the way on the table and climbed on top myself, allowing my full weight to press down on her. I then cupped her breast with that hand and squeezed it to punctate each thrust. The spell of her gaze was broken as her eyes rolled back in ecstasy. If were negotiating, then I would do so form a position of power.
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