‘Tough fighters…Thrakians.’
‘True. No give in them. We have a regiment of them here now.’ The man chuckled.
‘Sooner have them with me than against me.’
Argurios walked away. Xander followed. The cliff path was steep, but fairly wide. Even so, if Argurios were to stumble he would pitch over the edge and plummet to the rocks far below. The young soldier came alongside.
‘I would consider it an honour, Argurios, if you would allow me to walk with you to the beach.’
Argurios straightened at the sound of his name. ‘You… know of me?’
‘All soldiers know of you, man. I was told the story of the Bridge of Partha when I was a boy. They say you held the bridge all morning.’
‘Not that… long,’ said Argurios. ‘But… by the gods… it felt… like it.’
He gathered himself, then looked at the warrior. ‘Let us… walk, then.’
Xander followed as the two men made their slow way down to the beach. He could see there were already people on the sand, and several men were swimming. Xander wondered what they were looking for. Perhaps they were hunting for shellfish, he thought. Yet they seemed to be swimming aimlessly. They neither dived deep, nor headed for the shore. Others waded into the sea, and Xander could hear the sound of laughter.
There were five yellow canopies set up below the cliffs and close by were tables laden with food and drink. The canopies were very bright – almost as gold as the sun. Xander remembered his mother dying cloth yellow, using the skins of onions, or crocus pollen. But the cloth never had the lustre of these canopies. And it faded so quickly.
Ahead Argurios stumbled. The Trojan soldier took him by the arm, supporting him.
Argurios did not – as Xander expected – pull away. When they reached the beach the Trojan thanked Argurios for the honour of his company. The Mykene remained grave.
‘What is… your name… soldier?’
‘Polydorus,’ he answered.
‘I shall… remember it.’
Xander looked around. He saw Andromache move away from a small group of women and walk across the sand towards them. She was wearing a thigh-length tunic of pale green, and her red hair was hanging loose to her shoulders. Xander thought her very beautiful. She smiled at him, and he blushed.
‘Welcome to the royal beach, Xander.’
‘What are those men looking for?’ he asked, pointing to the swimmers.
‘Nothing. They are swimming for the pleasure of it. Do you swim?’
‘Grandfather taught me. He said a sailor needed to be able to float.’
‘Well, today you will swim.’ She turned to Argurios. ‘And you, warrior.’
‘Why would… I swim?’ he asked. ‘There is… no purpose to it.’
‘A better purpose, perhaps, than repairing a paddock wall where there is no longer a paddock,’ she observed. ‘Come and sit for a while, and I will tell you of the Assyrian physician.’
She led them to a spot beneath a canopy. Argurios’ breathing was ragged, and he seemed grateful to be sitting down. ‘My father could not take deep breaths,’
said Andromache. ‘The physician told him to swim every day. He also taught him to breathe differently.’
‘How many… ways… can a man… breathe?’
‘I will show you. But first you will swim for a while with Xander. Gently and slowly. Do not over-exert yourself.’
‘This is… foolish. I should not… have come.’
‘But you did, warrior,’ said Andromache. ‘And if you want to be strong again you will do as I say.’
Xander expected Argurios to react angrily. But he did not. He looked into her green eyes. ‘I need… my strength,’ he said, at last. Rising wearily to his feet he struggled to remove his threadbare tunic. Xander helped him, and also untied his sandals. Argurios’ naked body was pale and skinny, and Xander saw many old, white scars on his shoulders, arms, chest and legs. The angry red wounds of his recent fight were hideous to look upon. Pus and blood were leaking from the gash in his side, and there were deep scabs on three other wounds. But as he turned to walk to the shoreline Xander noted there were no scars on his back.
‘Go with him, Xander,’ said Andromache. ‘He may need your help.’
Xander stripped off his tunic and sandals and caught up with Argurios as he waded into the blue water.
They swam together silently. Argurios struggled and gasped for breath. After a little while Andromache swam out to join them. She was still wearing the pale green tunic, but it clung so close to her body that she might as well have been naked, thought Xander, trying not to look at her breasts, and the raised nipples. She came alongside Argurios. ‘Lie back in the water,’ she said, ‘and I will support you.’ He obeyed her instantly. ‘And now I want you to close your eyes and relax your body. Then I want you to breathe very slowly. I want you to breathe in for the count of four and hold the breath for the count of six. Then let it out very slowly for the count of ten. Four, six and ten.’
Xander watched for a while, and then, growing hungry, he swam back to the beach, waded ashore and clothed himself. Then he walked to the food tables. There were dishes of figs, barley bread and salted octopus, cuts of meats, cheeses and various breads. There were jugs full of water, and others filled with wine. A tall, stoop-shouldered servant stood staring at him. ‘Are we allowed to eat?’ he asked the man.
‘What would you like, little fellow?’
Xander pointed to the bread, and asked for some cheese and figs. The man tore off a hunk of dark bread, then cut a section of cheese and placed it on a wooden platter with a handful of figs. ‘You might need something to wash that down,’
said the servant, with a smile. Lifting a jug he filled a clay cup with a golden liquid. ‘Try it,’ he said.
Xander sipped the drink. It was thick and deliciously sweet. He thanked the man and wandered back to the canopy to sit and eat. Andromache was still in the water with Argurios. Other people were moving on the beach now. A dark-haired man emerged from the water. For a moment Xander thought it was Helikaon, but it was not. Then a fair-haired young woman in a red gown came and sat beside him.
‘You must be Xander,’ she said. ‘Andromache told me of you.’
‘Yes, I am. Who are you?’
‘I am Laodike. Are you a friend of the Mykene?’
‘I don’t think he has any friends.’
‘But you like him.’
‘Yes. He saved my life.’
‘I would like to hear about that,’ she said.
So Xander told her the story of the storm. She listened intently, then glanced back at the water, watching Andromache and the warrior. ‘Why do you think he risked himself to save you?’ she asked, at last.
‘I don’t know. Odysseus says that is what heroes do. And Argurios is a hero.
Everyone knows that.’
‘I did not know it,’ she admitted. ‘But then Troy is full of heroes. No-one can be expected to know all their names.’
Andromache and Argurios emerged from the water. Rising, Xander gathered up Argurios’ tunic and ran down to the shoreline. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘Tired,’ answered the warrior, taking the tunic and slipping it over his head.
He turned towards Andromache. ‘I am grateful to you,’ he told her.
‘It sounds as if you are already breathing a little more easily,’ she observed.
‘I think I am.’
Several men approached them. Xander saw the man who looked like Helikaon. He seemed angry.
He halted before Andromache. ‘How dare you dishonour the house of Priam?’ he said.
iii
For Xander the moment was shocking, and frightening. He looked around and saw the anger on the faces of the men. Andromache also looked startled – even uncertain. Then her expression hardened.
‘I do not understand you, Dios,’ she said.
‘I am Prince Deiphobos. Only those of equal rank, or those I count my fri
ends, can call me Dios. You are neither. And this beach is reserved for the use of the royal family. You are here as a guest, and had no right to bring a stranger to it. But that discourtesy pales beside the whorish display we have been forced to observe. We all know what disgusting excesses are practised by the priestesses of Thera. To bring them here is an affront that will not be tolerated.’
‘I invited Argurios,’ said Laodike, easing her way through the gathering crowd.
Xander heard the nervousness in her voice, and her eyes were downcast.
‘No more than one would expect, sister. You never were the sharpest arrow in the quiver.’
Laodike seemed to shrink beneath his contempt. Then Argurios stepped forward, and when he spoke Xander saw the shock register on the faces of everyone close by.
‘Have you finished, puppy dog?’ said Argurios. His tone was harsh and cold, and Dios took a sudden backward step. His face reddened. Argurios moved forward.
‘Prince, is it? It seems… to me… that Troy is thick with princes. You must be… the runt of the litter.’
Xander gasped. Young as he was he knew that the situation had suddenly become far worse. Dios stood for a moment, too shocked to speak. Then his eyes narrowed.
‘Have I offended you, puppy dog?’ snarled Argurios. ‘Then fetch swords and I’ll cut your… damned Trojan heart out!’
‘This has gone far enough,’ came a voice from the back of the crowd. A tall, broad-shouldered young man with red-gold hair pushed his way clear. ‘There will be no swords called for.’ He stared hard at Argurios. ‘I know of you, Mykene.
You are a fighting man, but your heart demands what your strength cannot supply.’ He turned to Andromache. ‘I do not know the ways of your land, sister-to-be. Here in Troy noble women do not swim alongside men. It is considered… immoral. However, if no-one explained this to you, then you cannot be held at fault.’ Then he swung back to the angry Dios. ‘My brother, I don’t doubt that our father will hear of this and make his own judgements. For now, however, let us put aside thoughts of combat.’
‘This wretch insulted me!’ stormed Dios.
‘Yes, he did,’ agreed the young man amiably. ‘As you can see, though, he is recovering from severe wounds and in no condition to fight. So store your grievance for now. If you still feel the need to avenge the affront when Argurios is strong again, then so be it.’
‘And I will!’ insisted Dios. He glared at Argurios. ‘We will meet again.’
The Mykene merely nodded. Dios stalked away, followed by a group of young men.
The crowd thinned. ‘What is… your name?’ Argurios asked the newcomer.
‘I am Agathon. Now, let us sit in the shade and talk of less violent matters.
Dios is a hothead, but he is not malicious. I would not wish to see him killed –
even by a great hero.’
It seemed to Xander that Agathon was the most noble man he had ever seen. He looked like a god. His eyes were the deepest blue, and he seemed to dwarf Argurios.
Andromache laid her hand on the prince’s arm. ‘That was well done, Agathon,’ she said.
They walked back to the canopy, Xander following unnoticed. Laodike moved forward to kiss Agathon on both cheeks. ‘You are so like Hektor,’ she said.
‘We are not so alike, sister. Believe me.’
Argurios stretched himself out on a rug placed on the sand, and seemed to fall asleep. Laodike sat alongside Agathon, and Xander moved to sit beside Andromache. Still no-one spoke to him.
‘News of Hektor came in this morning,’ said Agathon. ‘There was a great battle at a place called Kadesh. The reports are sketchy, but it seems the Egypteians almost had the day. Only a charge from the Trojan Horse held them back.’
‘See! I told you,’ Laodike said to Andromache. ‘Hektor always wins.’
‘Is the fighting over?’ asked Andromache.
‘No. The battle was undecided. There were great losses, however, on both sides.
We have no details as yet.’
‘A pox on the details,’ muttered Laodike. ‘Hektor will have the victory, and he will come home to a great parade.’
‘I hope that you are right, sister. However, according to one report the Trojan Horse were cut off, and had not rejoined the main Hittite army by dark. We must pray to the gods of war that Hektor is not among the fallen.’
‘Do not say things like that!’ Laodike admonished him. ‘I don’t want to hear such talk.’
Xander saw the prince glance at Andromache. ‘Will you walk with me on the sand?
There are some matters I would dearly like to discuss with you.’
‘As long as it is not considered immoral,’ said Andromache, rising smoothly to her feet.
Xander watched them walk away. Laodike seemed downcast. ‘Shall I fetch you something to drink?’ Xander asked her.
‘No. I am not thirsty.’ She glanced down at Argurios. ‘He is very thin, and his colour is not good. Perhaps you should fetch him some fruit nectar. Mother says it is good for the blood. He is a very rash man, isn’t he?’ she added. ‘He took a dreadful risk by angering Dios. Dios is a good swordsman, you know, and very quick.’
‘He is… a puppy,’ said Argurios, heaving himself to a sitting position. ‘And you are correct. I am too thin.’
‘I did not mean to offend you, sir,’ said Laodike, embarrassed. ‘I thought you were asleep.’
‘You did not offend me. And these… days… I cannot sleep lying… down. It seems easier to breathe while upright.’ Argurios looked at Xander. ‘That nectar sounds good,’ he said.
Xander ran to the food tables and brought back a goblet of thick golden juices and handed it to the warrior, who drank deeply. ‘You are a good lad,’ he said, as he laid the empty goblet on the sand. ‘Makes me… wonder… why I never had personal .. . slaves… before.’
‘I am not your slave,’ said Xander.
Argurios thought for a moment. ‘That was ill-spoken… by me, lad. Of course you are… not. You are a friend. That means… much to me.’
‘Why have you never had a personal servant?’ asked Laodike. ‘Are you not a famous hero in your own land?’
‘Never… desired them. I have always… been… a soldier. I had a shield carrier once. Fine young man. Died in Thessaly.’
‘What about your home?’
He shook his head. ‘My father had no wealth. I have… in my life… acquired farmlands, and there are… slaves who… toil upon them. I leave them to themselves mostly.’ His expression darkened. ‘But they are my lands no longer. I am a banished man. Outside the law.’ He glanced out at the sea. ‘I think I will… swim again.’ Struggling to his feet he walked down to the shoreline and removed his faded tunic.
‘A strange man,’ Laodike observed.
‘He called me his friend,’ said Xander happily.
‘And you should be honoured. Such a man does not give his friendship lightly.’
XXIV
Warnings of War
i
Andromache was enjoying the walk with Agathon. In some ways he reminded her of Odysseus. She smiled at the thought. Odysseus was an ugly old charmer, and would have been delighted to be compared to the Trojan prince. It was not the good looks, however, more the easy manner which encouraged familiarity. She listened as he spoke of his love for the city, and sensed a genuine warmth in him. They paused by a rocky outcrop. The clouds above were thickening, and the sky was i growing gloomy. At last he fell silent, and stared out to sea.
‘Are we now going to speak of the matter that is closest to your heart?’ she asked him.
He gave a wry grin. ‘Yes. You are sharp as a sword.’
‘I am intelligent. Why do so many people find that intimidating?’
‘I cannot answer that – though I know it to be true.’ He paused, then met her gaze. ‘I wanted to talk about Hektor. The news is less good than I implied to Laodike. She is a sweet girl, but she adores our brother and I did not want to alarm her. Acc
ording to our reports, Hektor led a reckless charge to turn the Egypteian flank. He succeeded, but the last anyone saw of him he was cleaving his way into the centre of the enemy ranks. The Hittites were forced to withdraw. Hektor did not return to their camp, though some riders did. They said Hektor and around fifty men were cut off in a blind ravine, with thousands of soldiers bearing down upon them.’
‘You think he is dead?’
‘I hope not. I pray not! Hektor is my greatest friend, as well as my half-brother. But it is more than that. Hektor is the heart of Troy. If he falls there will be chaos. Can you imagine it? Brother princes vying for supremacy? We would be racked by civil war.’
‘I do not see why,’ said Andromache. ‘Priam is a strong king.’
‘Oh, he is strong,’ agreed Agathon, ‘but he is hated. There are few of his sons he has not slighted, or publicly shamed. However, there is also discord among the brothers. Deep divisions and even hatreds. Hektor alone holds us all together. First, because we all love him.’ Agathon gave a wide smile. ‘Second, he would kill anyone who went against father.’
‘This is all fascinating to a foreigner,’ said Andromache, ‘but how does it concern Hektor’s bride-to-be? If he is dead I will return to Thera, and be with my friends.’
‘I hope you might consider a different path,’ he said.
‘Why would I?’
‘I am also unwed, Andromache. And in all my twenty-eight summers I have never seen a woman who fires me as you do. Therefore – unless there is another who holds a place in your heart – I would ask that you consider me as a suitor.’
Andromache smiled. ‘What a strange city this is, Agathon. It is immoral for a woman to swim with a man, but acceptable for a man to woo his brother’s bride?
In truth it will take me a while to master the rules here.’
He sighed. ‘That was neatly parried, Andromache. But think on what I have said.
If news reaches us that Hektor is gone I will petition my father for your hand.’
Before she could answer him a young soldier came running across the beach. ‘The king calls for you, lord,’ he told Agathon.
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