by Diana Gainer
A few drops of honey-sweetened wine moistened the young qasiléyu's lips and he licked them off instinctively. Moaning, he opened his eyes a crack. Perceiving only the man's dim outline, Diwoméde tried to cry out. The only sound he could make was a whimper.
Beside him, the broad-shouldered man patted Diwoméde's hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Ai, you will be all right, boy," said a familiar voice. "Dáuniya will see to that. We did not forget you, Diwoméde. We would not leave you to die in captivity. Yes, good, old Uncle T'érsite is your only kinsman now."
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For eight days, the combined exiles of It'áka, Mesheníya, Kep'túr, and Libúwa sailed and rowed toward the northern Ak'áyan kingdom of Qoyotíya. Thinking that Agamémnon would already be waiting in the port of Aúli, they avoided the Argive fortress of Tíruns. They rounded Argo's eastern peninsula, instead, to speed their arrival in the north. Spending the night on the small, off-shore island of 'Udra, they heard disturbing rumors. The rain-starved countryside of Argo was in turmoil, shepherds told them. Whole villages had been abandoned. Roving bandits made all the roads unsafe. King Agamémnon himself was rumored to be dead, and at his own wife's hand, said some. Others claimed that it was queen Klutaimnéstra who had been murdered, that the returning wánaks had been caught by battle madness and slaughtered his entire household, wife, children, and servants.
Odushéyu counseled his increasingly numerous followers not to listen too closely to such improbable stories. "Agamémnon is waiting for us in Qoyotíya. There can be no real question of that." Hearing such assurances, the exiles gathered in men of 'Udra who found hope in the thought of Assúwan plunder.
Meneláwo had mentioned Attika's hostility to Agamémnon, as the former king Idómeneyu reminded his It'ákan companion. So, when they left Argo's territory, they sailed wide, avoiding the coast of that northern kingdom on the mainland. Instead, they spent the night on the shores of Kéya, the northernmost of the Kukláde islands, the first of the Islands in a Circle. Here, as elsewhere, food was scarce after a dry winter. The petty wánaks of Kéya, nominally a qasiléyu of the Attikan king, eagerly joined forces with the exiles. He had long been itching to break from Erékt'eyu's grip. In gratitude for the opportunity, he provided for those exiles who had no weapons or armor, giving each a round shield of ox-hide and a bronze-tipped spear.
From Kéya the warriors sailed north to Éyuqoya, making their way northwest along that island's long coast. When at last they rowed south into the famed bay of Aúli, they were shocked to find no other ships, either anchored offshore or drawn up on the beach. The native Qoyotíyans assured them that Agamémnon had not been there, either. Nor were they themselves preparing for war, having also heard the rumors that said the high wánaks was dead. There would be no grand Ak'áyan campaign against Assúwan that year, the Qoyotíyans assured the exiles.
In Aúli's famed harbor, the ranking leaders of the travelers met on Odushéyu's biggest ship to discuss the situation. Idómeneyu spoke first. "I propose that we return to Argo to find out what really happened to Agamémnon," he suggested. "These rumors of his death are implausible. But they are so widespread and the high king's absence would seem to confirm them. If the old goat is really dead…"
"Yes, if he is dead, what then?" Mirurí asked. "If you are bent on going east, you can still go, whether the man is alive or not."
Odushéyu agreed, nodding his head vigorously. "I still say Agamémnon is alive. We knew before we left Tróya that his wife was plotting against him. If he is not in Qoyotíya or even headed this way, then he is surely fighting his queen's supporters. At one time, I thought of joining him in Argo to help him win such a civil war. But now that I have had the winter to think about it, the idea no longer appeals to me. Civil wars tend to be exceptionally bloody and vicious and the plunder is not usually worth the effort. Our Libúwan friend is right. We can sail east without Agamémnon just as easily as we could with him. Perhaps we cannot take on the largest cities of Assúwa without the Argives. But Assúwa is a very large continent. I think we will find villages and towns in sufficient number to enrich us adequately."
"Let us wait at least until midsummer," Idómeneyu suggested. "If Agamémnon is in the midst of a civil war, as you say, he will probably come north as soon as he finishes it. Then, with Argo's superior forces on our side, we could choose any city in the Náshiyan empire as our prey."
Mirurí shook his head. "No," he argued, "waiting is a waste of a man's time and energy. If you are afraid of Assúwa's bigger cities, then come south with me, and attack Mízriya. There, I can guarantee you wealth enough to sate any man’s lust for metals."
"East," Odushéyu said firmly. "We should head east. I have studied the sky. The best time to cross the Inner Sea to Wilúsiya is at this very moment. The wind is favorable. Did we not have to let down our sails and row the last days to enter Aúli's harbor, because of that wind? The season is right, with spring now past and, with it, the danger of sudden storms." Without enthusiasm, Idómeneyu and Mirurí accepted the decision of their It'ákan companion, bowing to his expertise with the sea.
"We are Ak'áyan warriors, the finest in the world!" Odushéyu told the men, whom he assembled on the Qoyotíyan shore. "Agamémnon must have trouble in his household, that is all. But that does not mean that we cannot go to Assúwa. We have twenty-six ships now, a good number. I have talked to several Qoyotíyans who are willing to join us, too. We will probably leave here with at least thirty longboats. If we sail to Tróya, our new ally there will give us still more. Ainyáh is sure to come with us, increasing our force to around forty. That will be plenty, for our purposes. We will harry the Assúwan coast, just as we planned. Let Agamémnon come along when he can. He will find Ak'áyan kings ruling Míra, Kuwalíya, and Lúkiya, by that time."
Most of the men cheered eagerly at those words. But Idómeneyu was doubtful. "In the Tróyan war, Agamémnon was always worried that the Náshiyans would send reinforcements to our enemies. If they had, we all would have died in Wilúsiya."
"But they never did send reinforcements, did they?" Odushéyu pointed out, annoyed that his companion would question him and ruin the fighting spirit he had just roused in the men.
"No," Idómeneyu admitted. "Tróya did not receive any Náshiyan troops. But the empire is a big place, a good deal larger than all of Ak'áiwiya put together. And you know how slow it can be, just getting a message from one Ak'áyan kingdom to another. How much slower must it be in Assúwa? Nevertheless, the emperor surely knows by now that he lost a rich city to Ak'áiwiya. For all we know, he could have his whole army there, right now, waiting for our return. No, it is too risky to take on the Náshiyan empire with only twenty-six ships. I do not know why I let you talk me into this before."
Odushéyu ground his teeth in frustration and balled his fists. "Idé, what do you suggest, old woman?" he demanded. "We cannot stay here, a band of southern Zeugelátes in a northern port. There does not seem to be a place for us anywhere in Ak'áiwiya and now you want to stay away from Assúwa. Where else can we go?" the pirate demanded.
"There is Mízriya," the Libúwan navigator volunteered once more, as hopeful as ever. "It would be farther to travel, but you would find many allies, on both sides of the land. In the deserts to the east and west of that country there are many tribes of people who would happily join a campaign against the Mízriyan king. There are nine of these conquered lands, in fact, the countries of the Nine Bows."
Idómeneyu laughed humorlessly. "Twenty-six ships are not enough to face Náshiya, but we would hardly fare any better if we took on Mízriya. By the gods, be sensible, Mirurí! We would have a hard time sacking even the cities of the Alásiyan island. They have over a hundred longboats, according to what my men tell me."
"Alásiya," Odushéyu mused, rubbing his bearded chin. "I had not thought of that…"
"I was only trying to make a point," Idómeneyu said impatiently. "The island is a Náshiyan vassal state. It would be as insane to go there as to Tróya."<
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"Not if the Náshiyan army is waiting for us in Wilúsiya," Odushéyu countered, beginning to smile. "In that case, reinforcements could not be farther away."
"Ai, then why not go all the way east, to the Náshiyan outposts in Kanaqán?" Idómeneyu asked sarcastically. "Why not sack Ugarít? That is even further from Wilúsiya." Even as he said the words, the harshness in his voice faded away. Soon he, too, was grinning. "Yes, Ugarít would be even better. It would! But, of course, Ainyáh would object. He has kinsmen there, does he not?"
Now it was Mirurí who smiled. "Why not go just a bit further and take Sidún? It is only a little way south of Ugarít, on the coast of Kanaqán. But you see, it owes allegiance to Mízriya. The Náshiyan army might be waiting for us in Wilúsiya, but it might be occupied in Kanaqán, too. After all, Náshiya is at war with the lesser empire of Ashúr, or did you not know that? But Mízriya would never suspect that we are coming against her outpost."
This time the Ak'áyan islanders listened to the navigator. "That might not be a bad idea," Odushéyu agreed. "We could avoid the Assúwan coast on our way by stopping only at the islands."
"Yes," Idómeneyu nodded, beginning to breathe faster with growing excitement. "Let us go first to Lázpa. It is subject to Wilúsiya, which is now an Ak'áyan vassal state. If it resists us, we can attack with justice on our side. We know we can take the island. We did it before. It is only an easy day south from there to the island of K'íyo."
"Lázpa will surely have news of the Náshiyan empire," Odushéyu added, interrupting the Kep'túriyan.
"And K'íyo is close to Millewánda," Idómeneyu quickly pointed out, interrupting the It'ákan in turn. "We might get reinforcements ourselves there, raise our ships' number to forty even without Ainyáh."
Odushéyu grasped his fellow exile's shoulders, his eyes dancing. "But if Millewánda will not help us, we will sack the city! The Náshiyan emperor will not mind that. It is Ak'áyan, after all." He and his Kep'túriyan friend began to laugh.
Even Mirurí was excited now. "Wórdo is only a few days' travel from Millewánda and it is Ak'áyan, too. There may be a few restless warriors there, too, eager to join us. We might take as many as fifty longboats east to Kanaqán."
The half-naked warriors began to shout, "Díwo!" With their arms on each other's shoulders, they began the dance of victory in battle. At the same time, they gave the loud, tremulous war-cry, "Alalá!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
TUDQALIYA
Thirty ships under the trio of exiled leaders sailed east toward Assúwa as summer began. The adventurers spent one last night on the southern tip of Éyuqoya's long, northern island before setting out across the open sea. On Éyuqoya they spoke of their war-like plans. But the traditional enmity of northern Ak'áiwiya and the south diminished the influence of Odushéyu's eloquence. Only a handful of P'ilístas joined the expedition. Most of the north considered the grand Ak'áyan alliance finished and its death went unmourned. The majority of Ak'áiwiya's feather-capped warriors intended to go their separate ways, each nation seeking its own path to glory, no longer following a southern lawagéta.
The next night saw the travelers on Skúro, where, to their surprise, the island's tattooed warriors were only slightly more hospitable to the Ak'áyan expedition against the east. "But chief Dukoméde," Idómeneyu admonished Skúro's ruler, as the Ak'áyan troop leaders dined in his stone-walled villa. "You missed the chance of a lifetime when you did not join us in the Tróyan war, last year. You cannot afford to pass up a second such opportunity."
The island chieftain glanced around his mégaron, a fine chamber compared to the wooden halls of the northern tribesmen of T'ráki, his not so distant kinsmen. His pale eyes, undimmed by the age that showed so clearly in his white hair, took in the paintings of fabulous beasts on his stuccoed walls, the Kentáuros, half man, half horse, cavorting amid stylized trees and mountains.
Odushéyu caught the slight movement of the old chief's head and guessed at the ruler's thoughts. "Do not be afraid of Attikan vengeance, if you decide to join us. King Erékt'eyu may be hostile to Argo, but none of Agamémnon's men are with us. Besides, we have heard that Attika’s territory is crowded with dispossessed farmers from other places, taking refuge from the droughts and famines that are so common these days. With unrest in his own countryside, Erékt'eyu will need all his fighting men at home. He will not send an expedition against your island while you are away."
Dukoméde listened, his tattooed face impassive. "You obviously do not know me very well, It'ákan," he told Odushéyu. "You seem to think I am Erékt'eyu's vassal. Despite our proximity to northern Ak'áiwiya, mine is an independent land. No oath to a king of P'ilístas prevents me from adding my ships to your expedition."
"Then what could possibly hold you back?" Idómeneyu demanded, savoring his wine. "Your warriors are eager enough to fight and you have plenty of them, maybe even too many. You certainly lost no troops in Wilúsiya, last year."
"That is not quite correct," Dukoméde pointed out patiently, shaking his white-maned head. "I sent a dozen men to Assúwa, in the end. But it is true, I do have the men for a campaign such as yours. I sent twelve out, last year, and all but two returned. One died across the sea, when falling masonry crushed his legs. So I am told. As for the other, my grandson, Púrwo, has taken up residence in T'eshalíya. I raised him for the sake of his mother, my oldest and dearest daughter. But he lives in the house of his father's parents now. Perhaps you knew his father, Ak'illéyu? They say he died at Tróya."
Idómeneyu spat at the mention of the T'eshalíyan prince's name. "We knew him, all right, may he rot in his grave!"
"Yes, chief, we knew him," Odushéyu replied with equal distaste but less fervor than his companion. "But, to return to the matter of the expedition, if it is not allegiance to an Ak'áyan king that keeps you from joining us, and it is not lack of men, then what is it? Perhaps you heard rumors of…shall we say…unpleasantness, in T'ráki last winter?"
Dukoméde shook his head once more, to Idómeneyu's obvious relief. "No," said Skúro's chieftain, "I am as independent of my T'rákiyan kinsmen as I am of my Ak'áyan neighbors. The problem is not with any power in this world. It is the gods."
"The gods?" Odushéyu repeated in astonished disbelief. This was completely unexpected.
"The omens are against you," the tattooed chieftain explained ruefully. He sighed, letting his blue eyes follow the smoke rising from his round hearth to the open hole in the flat roof. "Every spring, my seer voyages to the land of the dead beneath the earth, in a vision. When he returned last year, he predicted this drought. That should prove to anyone who might doubt him, that his journey is real." He paused, his sky-colored eyes turning from one face to another. His guests could not meet that ill-omened gaze.
"This year, he found that there were suddenly a great many more souls in the underworld," Dukoméde continued, dropping his voice. "Among the recently dead, he met a Tróyan priestess. She had cursed the whole land of Ak'áiwiya, she told him, asking the gods to visit all of Assúwa's misfortunes upon Ak'áiwiya in return. 'Let the Ak'áyans' sorrows be heaped up above ours threefold,' is what she said."
Idómeneyu shuddered. 'Could Kashánda have uttered such a curse?' he wondered. She certainly had an incentive, having lost many brothers, a sister, and her parents in the recent war, and its aftermath. But she had been living when last he had seen the priestess. Perhaps, the curse had come from the lips of the younger princess, the maiden Agamémnon had sacrificed before the Ak'áyans left Tróya's soil? The Kep'túriyan exile could not suppress his fears and he made the sign of the Evil Eye. "They say that women's curses are the worst," Idómeneyu admitted, rubbing his forehead, which suddenly ached.
Nodding, Dukoméde added, "Evil times for Ak'áiwiya always mean an increase in piracy on the Inner Sea. Warriors sail from stricken lands in search of other men's grain stores, or the livestock and female captives that will buy it. Much as I would like to join your eastern campaign, Skúro's f
ighting men must remain at home. For this war season, at least, we will stay here through necessity, to defend our own flocks and families. Another time, perhaps, my warriors will join you in raiding Assúwa’s lands."
"I, for one, do not put much stock in the complaints of women or in the fears of prophets and priests," Odushéyu scoffed. "I have heard that women's curses are the worst, of course. But why should the gods listen more to women than to men? It makes no sense. As for seers who claim to have visited 'Aidé, I will not believe in such a voyage until I have made such an expedition there myself. Any mariner worthy of the name knows that sailors tell as many lies as…"
Dukoméde interrupted the It'ákan. "In fact, my friends, I will make you an offer. If you and your men will stay on Skúro and fight for me, this summer, I will repay all of you with fine homes in my domain and two wives apiece."
