“So, you are worried that you might be used to power this weapon? Is that why you are so ready to tell us all this?”
“I will admit that I have my own best interests at heart, but I am not a man without conscience. I do not know the people of Troy, but it does hurt to think of how many innocent people will suffer because of my King’s plans. He has always allowed surrender, but it seemed like the Trojans will have no option here. He plans for all of them to die. I am old. I have served under His Majesty for a long time. I am tired of seeing innocent people die.”
I remembered Matanaza’s offer to me of a bloodless resolution. I wondered what would have happened if I had taken her up on her offer. She made it clear that there were no guarantees that Mursili would be willing to compromise with the Trojans, but she had expressed hope for that scenario. It seemed now that she was either lying to me or that she had a misunderstanding of her father’s designs.
“So, how do you think we can stop this from happening?”
“I am a simple man,” the messenger admitted. “I know that they must be working on this weapon in their fortress . . .” The citadel. “. . . The only way I can think to stop them is to storm in there and kill everyone you see, especially the science men.”
“Then that’s what we will do,” I said. “You, sir, have been a great help. As a reward, we will take you with us instead of killing you. How does that suit you?”
“That sits well with me. I must admit, I have no one to even go home to. My wife and children have all died and this most recent news of my King’s plans has me not caring too much about my fate.”
“Well, perhaps I can take you home with me on the other side of the Dardanelles when this is all over. What do you think of that?”
“I might as well. A new life could be interesting. But . . . the Hittite military is on the way to Cannakale as we speak. What will you do to defend against them?”
“They have already been dealt with.”
His eyes went wide.
“In all honesty, we were lucky to have made it out alive. They outnumbered us two to one.”
“By the gods,” he gasped. “Who are you?”
“My name is Troy, and I am an honorary prince of the city with the same name.”
“I think I have heard of you.”
“I’m flattered, but let’s talk more on the way.”
We were back on track before the sun began to rise. I for one rode with a new sense of vigor, having more knowledge to work off of. The newest member of our company took Caria’s horse, and she shared mine, as we did not carry any extras with us from the battlefield. I got him to tell me everything he knew about Mursili and this Supila woman he’d mentioned.
Apparently, the King’s right hand was rumored to have had dealings with the Brethren of Stars for a number of years. Such news was meant to be kept under wraps, but word always had a way of spreading. The messenger told me that an old friend of his had a son who was in the guard, or something like that, and had overheard tons of secretive conversations among the prominent figures of the Hittite ruling class.
“This guard you know . . . will he be in Cannakale?”
“No, no,” he said. “He is back in Hattusa. The King has many children that need to be looked after in his absence.”
“How many guards would say are present in the city, then?”
“Oh . . . at a guess I would say 40, but that is really only a guess.”
That would not be too bad, I thought. We had already overcome far worse odds.
“And you know that we may have to kill these guards, right?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said flatly. “That is not something I wish to think about, but if it is what must be done to save the lives of thousands or more, then it is what must be done.”
15
It was well into the night by the time we reached the city. We stopped at the edge of a crowd of trees atop a hill overlooking the port town, its spires glinting like a half dozen metallic fangs in the light of the full moon. There were little signs of life, with no more than a few smatterings of flickering firelight. Even from our vantage, I could see no watchmen.
The messenger looked at me expectantly. I had only learned his name an hour before; it was Tewan. He had cheered considerably during our talks since the idea of ending his senile master’s reign of terror seemed more and more possible as we traveled closer to the city. He sat hunched on his horse, a slight smile creeping across his lips.
“It is about time,” he said. “You and your men will either win everything or lose it all. I do not understand how you soldiers have the heart to go to battle one time, let alone multiple times.”
“Some of us just like to tempt fate, I suppose.” I reached over and patted him on the knee. “You have been a great help, Tewan. Truly a blessing. We were fortunate to have crossed paths. Could you bear to accompany us while we go down and dance with destiny once more?”
“I will follow you wherever you may go, friend. My allegiance is now yours.”
I nodded and asked, “Where are the watchmen? I know they must be somewhere.”
“There are always two at the gates there.” He pointed to a section of the wall cloaked in shadow. “You probably cannot see them, but trust me, they are there. And there are others—maybe eight more—stationed along the inside of the wall. There is scaffolding they stand on to peek over the stone. It would be difficult to see anything of them aside from the tips of their helmets even in the light of day. At least two of those have a good chance of spotting us when we come down the hill. I am no strategist, but I see no way around that.”
“I planned for as much,” I said. “It helps that we move under the cover of night.”
I called for everyone else to gather around and explained the plan. Me and several others would don the Hittite armor we had picked up after the last fight. There were only five outfits in total, but those who did not have a set to wear would follow behind and remove any fabric that was distinctly Trojan in color. I hoped that the guards would think little of this minor detail as they spoke with those of us who were wearing the official attire. Tewan and I would lead the others as we traveled down in a line two horses wide. The third pair of men in our line would be the last to have Hittite soldier uniforms, and they would hold the two battle flags high to help obscure the guards’ view of the rest of our men trailing behind.
We would only carry the two Hittite tents down, leaving the Trojan ones out of sight in the woods. Those of us that were obviously out of place in a Hittite regiment—namely the Thirians and Caria—would be tucked in the tents that our men were hauling. If combat was initiated at the gates, which I suspected it would be, Caria and my tribal brothers would escape from the folds of the tents—she covering us with arrow fire, and the two men jumping the wall to pick off the guards on the other side while moving to open the gate from within.
Tewan would do most of the talking. We had concocted a story about how we encountered a battalion of Trojans, and our small group was all that managed to survive. Tewan met us along the road to Hattusa and delivered his message, offering to usher us back to town. It was difficult to plan for every possible thing the gatekeepers might ask us, so we thought it best to hash out a general story to present to them and wing it from there.
I doubted they would fall for it, but my main goal was to get my men to the gates without having to dodge a storm of arrows. If we could simply do that, I would consider the bluff a success. The big thing that would likely make or break our advance to the wall was if a scout had been able to report back to the city with news of our group of Trojans coming their way. None of us had spotted any enemy scouts in the two nights we camped, but that did not mean we were in the clear.
With everything and everyone in place, we doubled back to a section of the main road far enough out of sight of the town guard and rode in file to Cannakale as if we had been traveling the road this whole time.
“It works in our favor that the
Hittite battalion was expected to arrive around this same time,” I said to Tewan as he rode at my side.
“Yes, that is fortunate,” he agreed. “Just make sure to keep that helmet low so that they do not notice you are not Hittite.
I looked back at the rest of my men. They, too, tried to mask their faces as best they could. Even those not in disguise rode with their heads low. We were careful to have those with darker hair, which was common among Hittites, ride closer to the front while those with lighter hair were kept further back in the shadows.
Several horses down the line, four men were carrying the two tents with Linos, Scander, and Caria hidden inside. At a glance, no one would have any idea they were there.
Tewan raised an arm as we came within view of the gatekeepers. I looked to both sides of the wall on either end of the iron doors and saw two heads peeping at us from behind the stone arches. The wall was perhaps twice my height—difficult but not impossible for a moderately athletic person to scale. The Thirians would surely have little trouble doing so.
“Greetings,” said one of the guards. He nodded to Tewan as if he recognized him. “I see you have brought some of the army along with you. Where are the rest of them?”
Tewan shook his head, trying his best to channel that despair he felt when he first encountered us. “This is all that is left. The general here could tell you himself”—he gestured to me—“but I doubt he wishes to relive the defeat again, especially so soon.”
“Defeat?” The gatekeeper looked from the messenger to me and back again. “What do you mean? You do not jest? This is truly all that is left of the battalion?”
Both of us nodded, and Tewan said, “Truly. For reasons unknown to us, the Trojans had their own soldiers on course for Hattusa. These brave men defeated them, but only barely, as you can plainly see.”
The second gatekeeper said nothing but leaned to the side to look further down our modest line of soldiers. My heart skipped a beat at the thought that our cover was about to be blown, but it was a flimsy deception to begin with.
The first man said, “The King will not be pleased to hear this.”
“On the bright side,” Tewan suggested, “this means that there will be less opposition at Troy, does it not?”
“No.” The guard was shaking his head. “We cannot lay siege to the great walls of Troy with such a small gathering of men. It would be impossible to traverse the gates! The citizens themselves could pick us off from above.”
Tewan forced a forced laugh, trying to pretend as if the thought did not make him happy. “I hear that weapon of His Majesty’s would take less men than the fingers on my hand to deliver to Ilium and clean out the entire city.”
“Perhaps,” hissed the guard. “None of us are supposed to know such things. It is foolish of you to speak of it here.”
“Forgive me, but word travels fast, as we all know.” He held his palms out at chest level to gesture that he meant no harm. “So, are you going to let us in or not? It is late and these men are tired and wounded.”
The guard thought for a moment, not breaking eye contact with Tewan as he stood in silence, his lips pursed. Finally, he said, “That was not the plan. These men were to camp in the fields here once they arrived.”
“But that was before things changed,” Tewan suggested. “I understand the concern for overcrowding when the men numbered to over a thousand, but look at these poor guys. Some of them could use decent medical attention, and I think you can agree that they are all deserving of some quality sleep.”
This time, the first guard leaned outward to get a better look at all of us. I clenched my jaw. He huffed and said, “Look, on any other occasion, I would say go for it, but I was given explicit instructions and I do not want to invoke the wrath of our King by disobeying him. These are trying times for all of us.”
“You cannot simply send someone to ask him?”
He shook his head. “No. I hear he is working away with his precious science men in one of those towers as we speak, and I know I do not have to tell you what it is believed he does with people up there. It might mean death if I were to send one of my men to him now asking if he minded us disobeying his direct commands. These men are to wait out here until we receive further instruction, which will likely be in the morning.”
Tewan looked to me and shrugged, saying, “Fair enough. Fair enough. I only thought I would ask on their behalf. I for one am ready to call it a night though. You will let me back in, will you not?”
“Of course.” He raised his voice and shouted, “Open the gates!”
I almost burst out laughing when I saw the slight smirk on Tewan’s face. This outcome worked just as well. The gates swung inward to permit him entry. He rode forward, and I bobbed my right knee up and down, which was our silent signal to attack. The men directly behind me knew to look for it and spread the message down the line.
At the sound of the wooden poles of the battle flags hitting the road, I drew my sword and charged ahead. The first guard had no time to react before my sword was buried in his chest and yanked away as my horse sped past. Tewan pulled out a dagger and cut the second gatekeeper’s throat with a violent shout.
Upon entrance, I spun around in time to see the two guards closest to the gates atop the wall fall from their scaffolding as an arrow met each of their faces. Even though the gate was open, I saw Linos follow through with our original plan and hop the wall, landing with a malicious grin less than a yard away from where one of the fallen men had stood on the scaffolds.
A man further down the rickety contraption was running over to meet him, his sword held aloft. Linos roared as he held his spiked club high overhead, but the soldier wailed in agony and was pushed from the support beams himself as Scander appeared from over the edge of the stone. The man slid from the Thirian’s blade as gravity took him down. Scander winked at his chief. He truly did have a penchant for stealing another man’s kills.
I rushed back in to handle the two men who had opened the gates. They were now trying to undo the action, but once Pandora’s box was open, it could not be closed. I jabbed straight through one man’s side. The other stopped his futile attempts to delay the inevitable and drew his own weapon. The rest of my men came pouring in, dividing the two of us before we could clash.
When the space between us was clear once again, he lay dead on the ground, nothing more than a gruesome doorstop at the foot of the heavy door he tried so desperately to shut. Linos was coming down from the wall to meet me, and Scander had hurried further down to wipe out more watchmen.
Caria was still outside, walking toward me with her bow in hand, and Tewan had not traveled far. He wore a proud grin on his face as his horse trotted near.
“Great job, man!” I shouted. “But it’s only just beginning. You can wait outside if you like. You played your part well.”
“No, my friend. I intend to see this through to the end.”
“Fair enough—Caria, Linos, let’s all make for our final showdown with His Majesty. It won’t be long now. For Priam!”
Caria joined me on my horse, and I raised my sword high, charging deeper into the city with my faithful allies close behind.
We followed the rest of our party to the fortress, passing houses and other buildings on our way. There was no sign of the firelight we had seen from atop the hill. No torches lit the road; no one was wandering about. Our surprise attack was so sudden that the watchmen did not even have time to sound the alarms. It would have made sense for the citizens to have hidden inside and remained quiet during an invasion, but the place seemed too devoid of life with so little time for them to prepare.
Even in the dead of night, I expected to see embers of household hearth fires or laundry hung up to dry. There were no signs of daily life anywhere along the stretch of road we traveled to the fortress. It made me wonder if some horrible fate had befallen the original citizens of this place when Mursili claimed it. The prospect of putting my foot on that man’s throat seemed more
gratifying as I thought about it.
The moment we came within view of the black gates of the fortress, I pulled Caria with me to the ground. Several arrows zoomed past us, one of them missing us by no more than a couple inches.
“Take cover!” I shouted.
My friends coming in behind took that as their queue to roll off their steeds as well. Caria and I got to our feet, both of us crouching low looking for the assailants. I pushed her to the side.
“Hide behind that building!” I commanded.
“Troy, no, I—!”
“Don’t argue—go!”
She ran for cover, and I turned back to scan the black mass in front of me. It was a complete disaster. Half of my men had already suffered tragic ends by the tips of those damned arrows. I cursed my stupidity for not proceeding with caution once we were inside.
Four men were piled in front of the doors, shot down where they stood. One of them was still clinging onto his last ounce of life, wincing against the pain that invaded his senses. Another soldier was thrown from his horse, the beast suffering from a shot to the ribs, the arrow still hanging limply from its mark. It bucked madly, and on more than one occasion landed with heavy hooves on its rider. The poor man wailed like a child as sections of his body were crushed under the weight; his sobs stopped immediately when his skull finally met the metal of his pet’s shoe.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Others were still under fire up ahead. It seemed that, for the moment, my sniper had turned his attention elsewhere. I tried to focus on where the shots were coming from, but it was difficult in the midst of all the chaos and darkness.
I followed my eyes up the wall of the citadel and saw something flash in the moonlight for a fraction of a second several yards above the gates. I squinted, trying to force my eyes to focus on the black structure ahead of me, insisting they discern some definition of shape where there appeared to be none.
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