Reap the Wind

by Iris Johansen

  “You’ve not been badly treated.”

  “Not by you.” Andros lifted the cup to his lips. “I’ve often wondered why you interceded with your brother when he wished to lop my head off.”

  “I thought I might have need of you. You’re a brave man and have a surprising sense of honor.” Paradignes stepped back, laid the cloth on the table beside the statue, and asked softly, “By Zeus, is it not a thing of wondrous beauty?”

  “Get rid of the statue,” Andros said gruffly. “I agree it’s too beautiful to destroy, but keep it hidden. I’ve heard your brother thinks it has some magical power from the gods that bewitched Traynor into betraying his people.”

  “My brother is not always reasonable. If he believed it was the statue, then why did he have Traynor hacked to ribbons?” Paradignes shook his head. “My brother was never very clever even when we were boys together and was ever ruled by passion and greed.” He grimaced. “I should have been king, you know. I was the firstborn. Without these crooked shanks I would have taken my place in the great hall and perhaps we wouldn’t now be sitting beyond these walls, waiting to die.”

  “Perhaps you will not die.”

  “You think to comfort me?” Paradignes shook his head. “The siege has gone on too long, the bitterness is too deep, the wound on both sides unhealed. When we are finally defeated, there will be no mercy. We would show none if we were the victors.”

  Andros absently sipped his wine, studying the statue. He wished the old man would cease meandering and tell him why he had been brought from his prison cell. It was not the first time the king’s brother had sent for him and given him wine and conversation, yet such action seemed bizarre now that the city lay on the brink of destruction. “You’re right. Everyone dies sooner or later. But there is no need to hurry it by angering your brother.”

  “You did not seem to worry about incurring his rage when he was questioning you under the lash.” Paradignes smiled. “You could have told him what he wished to know and you could have ridden out of the city in freedom.”

  A sudden glint of humor appeared on Andros’s face. “What would I have done with a horse? I do not come from horse people as you do. I am of the sea.”

  “We are all well aware of that,” Paradignes said dryly. “Your ships have been raiding our city and exacting tribute since the time of my father’s father.”

  Andros shrugged. “Every city-state raids and pillages wherever it can. The Shardana are just better at it than the rest of you.”

  “And consequently must have great storehouses of treasure in your kingdom.” Paradignes hobbled over to the table and poured himself a bowl of wine. “It’s only natural that my brother would want to know the location of your homeland in order to tap that treasure. As you say, we are all raiders. The enemies besieging us now may mouth vengeance, but they, too, want only slaves and treasure. It’s unfortunate your ship was storm-wrecked off our shores just before the city was attacked.”

  Andros’s grasp tightened on the cup in his hand. “I’m not involved in your war and I will not be sacrificed to it.” He smiled, showing gleaming teeth. “Give me a sword and let me fight my way out of the city and I’ll promise you that you’ll have a great many less to battle next time they rush the gate.”

  “I don’t doubt that’s true.” Paradignes’s gaze was still fastened on the ewer from which he had poured the wine. “Tell me, do you have many beautiful objects like this in the treasure chambers of your city?”

  Andros smiled curiously. “We have treasures you could never imagine.”

  “Like this?”

  “Of far greater value.”

  “Then why do you raid us?”

  Andros was silent.

  “You won’t even answer such an innocent question?” Paradignes smiled and lifted his bowl to his lips. “What a secret lot you of the Shardana are. You sail out of nowhere, you raid and pillage and are gone again in the mists. I believe I feel a twinge of sympathy for my beloved brother.”

  “Feel sympathy for my men whom your brother sacrificed on the altar of Poseidon to save your city.” Andros’s jaw tightened. “They were brave men and true.”

  “But the enemy.”

  “I was the enemy,” Andros said. “They only followed me.” He finished his wine with one swallow. “He could have made them slaves instead of butchering them. May the gods put a curse on his soul.” He set his cup on the table and turned to Paradignes. “But I have no quarrel with you, old man. I’ve enjoyed our hours together. What do you wish from me? A clean thrust through the heart so you avoid the shame of death by your enemy?”

  “No.” Paradignes nodded toward the statue. “What do you know of the Wind Dancer?”

  “That you’re a fool not to have obeyed the order to destroy it.”

  “Acknowledged. What else?”

  “Only what the guards told me. That it was given by your enemy as a bribe to your kinsman, Traynor, to open the West Gate. That their soldiers poured through the gate, put it to the torch, and since then have almost captured the city on two occasions.”

  “The next time the city will fall.”

  Andros nodded. “You can’t hold them at bay forever now that the gate has been destroyed.”

  “The fever sickness that ravages our city would have destroyed us if betrayal had not,” Paradignes said wearily. “Traynor was not a brave man, but he loved beautiful things, as I do. Do you know what he asked as a boon before he died?”

  Andros shook his head.

  “To see the Wind Dancer.” Paradignes shook his head. “Do you wonder why my brother is frightened? He understands only war and battle. He could never comprehend the power of beauty.” He turned to look at Andros. “But you understand that power. I’ve seen you look at my lovely things with admiration, not greed.”

  “Oh, the greed is there too.” Andros smiled crookedly. “I’m not so foolish as not to weigh their value.”

  “I cannot see the Wind Dancer destroyed, nor can I let it fall into the hands of my enemies.” Paradignes paused. “So you will take it from the city tonight, before the next attack.”

  Andros became still, his heart leaping with hope. “I trust you know how mad you sound. The city is surrounded.”

  “This is an ancient city and has been destroyed and rebuilt many times.” Paradignes hobbled toward the far wall and threw back the carpet to reveal a wooden trapdoor set in the stones. “This passage will lead you down into the earth under the present city and far beyond the enemy lines.”

  “Your brother knows the passage?”

  The old man nodded. “But he will not use it. His head is full of glory and his heart full of hate. He would rather stay here and die than run away.”

  “Well, I’m not such a fool. I’ll gladly take your Wind Dancer and leave this place.” Andros moved toward the statue. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “I stay.”

  Andros looked at him in surprise.

  “It’s my city, my home.” Paradignes’s lips twisted. “Perhaps I’m as much a fool as my brother after all.” He leaned down and grasped the iron ring to open the trapdoor. “But you will not go alone. I’m sending someone with you. She’s already waiting in the passage with a sword, a lantern to light your way, and enough food to last you at least—” A sudden uproar in the courtyard caused him to break off.

  “Attack! To the walls!”

  “Make haste. They have broken through again.” Paradignes motioned to the Wind Dancer on the table. “Put the statue into the chest and be gone.”

  Andros quickly did as he was told, picked up the chest, and ran toward the trapdoor. “Who is waiting in the passage?”

  “Jacinthe.”

  Andros stopped in midstride and slowly shook his head. “You too, old man?”

  “She’s not what you think her.” Paradignes shrugged. “And I could no more allow her to be destroyed than I could the Wind Dancer.”

  “I give you warning. I’ll not cosset and pamper
her.” Andros tucked the chest beneath his left arm and began carefully descending the rope ladder into the waiting darkness. “She’ll find she has to keep up with me or she’ll be destroyed.”

  “She’ll keep up.” Paradignes smiled faintly. “You may even find you have trouble keeping up with her. And as I said, she’s not what you think her.”

  Andros hesitated, looking up at the old man. “Come with us. There is nothing but death for you here.”

  Paradignes shook his head. “I’m a crippled old man, and the path you travel is not for me.”

  Andros was silent a moment and then said haltingly, “Come. There are . . . ways I can help you.”

  “Would you carry me on your back? I have a dislike for discomfort and would rather die here among my treasures than in some strange land. May the gods protect you both.” He flinched as shrill screams pierced the night outside in the courtyard. “Hurry! You must be far beyond the walls when they torch the city, or the smoke may kill you in those tunnels.” He didn’t wait for a reply but quickly lowered the trapdoor and kicked the carpet back over it, leaving Andros in darkness.

  Paradignes limped to his chair and dropped down on the cushions, leaning his head against the high back with a sigh of relief.

  The Wind Dancer was safe. A fierce warrior like Andros would be a fit guardian for the statue and protect it from all who would destroy it. In this world, where ugliness, blood, and violence thrived and flourished, one treasure of infinite beauty had been allowed to survive.

  The screams and clamor of swords in the courtyard were drawing nearer. A chill struck through him as he realized he would soon die. He could yet escape if he chose to do so. The rope ladder would be difficult to negotiate for a cripple, but he had always found he could accomplish most things more favored individuals could do.

  No, he was weary of hobbling painfully in the darkness of this world. Surely beyond this earth a place existed where the spirits of men of good heart soared on wings as strong and golden as those of the Pegasus he’d entrusted to Andros.

  The Wind Dancer.

  What would it be like to dance on a cloud, free of the chains of earth? Suddenly, for an instant, he imagined he could actually feel the wind on his face. The buoyant exhilaration of flying giddily, swiftly, over mountains and rivers with the warm sunlight in his face. Was the vision sent by the gods to comfort him in his time of need, or was it born of his own desperation? No matter. It was the vision itself that was important, not from whence it came. Perhaps if he concentrated hard enough, he could bring back that most exquisite of sensations.

  Paradignes eagerly closed his eyes and only a moment later a radiant smile curved his lips. He was still smiling when the enemy broke down the door and came for him.

  The flames clawed at the night sky as if trying to bring down the stars and devour the heavens.

  Andros stood on the rise of the hill, his gaze on the destruction sweeping the city below.

  “He was a brave man,” Jacinthe said quietly from beside him. “My heart grieves for him.”

  “Paradignes?”

  “Who else?” She leaned back against a large triangular gray rock, her gaze never leaving the city. “No one else in that wretched city cared for me.”

  “Can you blame them?”

  “You believe their lies?”

  “I believe nothing but what I can see, hear, or taste. I trust no one until they prove themselves.” He stooped and picked up the chest containing the Wind Dancer. “But you’re comely enough and you didn’t whine or weep at the pace I set you in the tunnel. I suppose we can travel together for a time.”

  “Where do we go from here?”

  “South along the coast to Egypt. I’ll take service with the pharaoh until I can earn the money to build a boat and return to Shardana.”

  “She lowered her lids to veil her eyes. “You could sell off the jewels of the Wind Dancer.”

  He shook his head. “Paradignes died to preserve his treasure. I’ll not betray him in that fashion.” His gaze narrowed on her face. “And I believe you knew that would be my answer.”

  “I only hoped it would be your answer.” A smile lit her exquisite face with radiance, and suddenly Andros realized why Paradignes could not bear to have her destroyed. By all the gods, he was being as soft-headed as the rest of them about the woman. He quickly glanced away from her. “Well, do you come with me? The road will not be smooth and you will be treated only as a woman, not a goddess.”

  “That’s all I ever wanted.” Jacinthe turned and took one last look at the burning city below. “No one understood that but Paradignes.”

  She picked up the lantern and wrapped her cloak more closely about her. “Give me that bundle of food. You have the statue to carry.”

  He hesitated, gazing assessingly at the delicate grace of her slim body. “I can manage both, the chest is not heavy.”

  She snatched the satchel containing their food and strode ahead of him down the trail. “Stop arguing. We have a long way to go and I will do my part, Andros. You set the pace and I will match it.”

  Andros stared after Jacinthe in stunned surprise, and then found himself smiling as he set off after her. Paradignes had said he might have trouble keeping up with the woman.

  In another moment he had overtaken Jacinthe, and they walked side by side in silence toward the distant land that lay far to the south.

  Neither Andros nor Jacinthe cast another backward look at the burning walls of Troy.

  16

  Alex put down the last page of the first legend and gazed thoughtfully down at the dusk-shrouded valley.

  “Well?” Caitlin asked.

  “They traveled south, along the coast.”

  “Yes.”

  “Tamkalo isn’t that far from the coast.”

  Caitlin’s eyes widened. “You think it may have been Andros who left the tablet here on his way to Egypt?”

  “I’m not saying that. It’s only a possibility to consider. You said the Shardana were very secretive and left little evidence of their existence. Yet we have the script on the Wind Dancer you attribute to Andros and now we find a tablet on his alleged route from Troy. If there’s no connection, it’s a pretty big coincidence.”

  “Why would he have come this far inland?” She glanced down at the valley. “And why would he climb up here?”

  “We don’t have those pieces of the puzzle yet.” He straightened the pages and handed them back to her. “But if this legend is accurate, then I agree with you that Andros was out of character when he ordered a scribe to put down his story.”

  She absently stuffed the pages back into the envelope. The idea that Andros and Jacinthe had been there on the mountain, even in this very cave, gave her an uneasy feeling. The place was eerie enough without the knowledge that it may have been haunted by one of her ancestors.

  “It bothers you.”

  “Of course not.” She got to her feet and moved the few yards to the entrance of the cave. “It’s getting cold out here. We’d better go inside.”

  Alex glanced at the pewter-gray sky. “I don’t like the look of those clouds.” He frowned. “I think we’d better search tonight and then get the hell out. I’d hate to be stranded here in a snowstorm.”

  “Very well.” She had no desire to be there with Alex any longer than she had to be to accomplish her purpose. “We’ll search now and eat later. Get the lantern.”

  The tablet was lodged upright behind a boulder inside the bubbling hot spring at the back of the cave. They discovered it after only three hours of searching.

  Caitlin’s heart jumped and then started racing as she fell to her knees in front of it. The tablet was perhaps nine inches wide and twelve inches high, and the left corner had been broken away from it. She gazed at the tablet in disbelief. “It was too easy,” she whispered. “It’s almost in plain view.”

  “Why shouldn’t it be easy? It’s not as if it’s the Holy Grail.” Alex kneeled down beside her. “Maybe whoever wrot
e it didn’t want to hide it.”

  “We had to climb a mountain to find it.”

  “An obstacle but not an insurmountable one.” With utmost care Alex gripped the tablet and tugged experimentally. “It’s stuck in the earth. That’s probably why the corner broke off when the boy tried to get it out.”

  He took a knife from his pocket and began digging away the earth around the tablet. Five minutes later he carefully lifted the tablet and handed it to Caitlin. “The moisture from the spring must have kept it in such good condition. It could have crumbled away thou—” He broke off as he saw her face. “What is it?”

  “There’s more.” Caitlin leaned forward, peering into the dark recess in the wall of the cave that the upright tablet had covered. She reached into the recess and drew out a tablet, another, and still another. Before the recess was empty, five tablets lay before them on the stony earth. She looked down at them dazedly. “The same script.” She laughed shakily. “Dieu, and I thought all we’d have to decipher was the inscription on the Wind Dancer.”

  “It seems our scribe was prolific.”

  Caitlin nodded as her gaze flew from one tablet to the next, excitement building higher every second.

  She inhaled sharply as she stared down at the last tablet she had taken from the recess. “Yes,” she whispered. “He did want to make it easy for us. Greek.”

  He leaned closer, studying the tablet. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” The tablet was divided in two with a line running from the top to the bottom. On one side was the script she believed was Shardana and on the other side of the line were Greek characters. “I think he laid it out for us. He gave us the tablets and then he gave us the key.”

  “Why not write the tablets in Greek to begin with?”

  She laughed exultantly. “How do I know? Maybe he wanted to give us a challenge.”

  “But how could he know it would ever be deciphered? In his day it never would have been possible.”