by Hilary Green
I turned to the helmsman.‘Can you set course for Pylos by the stars?’
He nodded. ‘Aye.’
‘Very well, then. Let us make as much distance as we can before dawn.’
Alectryon spoke my name. He was examining the dagger that he had drawn from Kerkios’s body.
‘Look,’ he said, putting it into my hand.
I examined the weapon in the moonlight. It was a simple object with a plain wooden handle. Only the colour of the blade struck me as strange. Thinking it was the blood drying on it I rubbed it on the corner of my cloak, but it did not change its appearance. I tilted the blade this way and that in the pale light.
He said, ‘What do you see?’
‘The blade seems dull. Nothing else.’
‘Dull? Look again. It is not the colour of bronze at all.’
‘Perhaps it is the light.’
‘Look then.’ He drew his own dagger and held the two side by side. From his the moonlight struck a familiar gleam. The other was cold and grey. I gazed from the dagger to his face, frowning.
‘What can it be?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t know. But it’s not bronze.’
‘Then what? What other metal could be used for making a weapon?’
‘I’ve no idea. But I think we must find out.’
‘How?’
He looked at me. ‘I may be mistaken, but I think we must pay another visit to that Forbidden Valley.’
‘You think perhaps that they have found some new way of working metal – that they are working it in secret in that valley?’
‘It is possible, isn’t it?’
I remembered the hearths and the stone blocks which I had taken for altars and answered slowly, ‘Yes. I think it is.’
As I spoke I took the dagger and tried it against the planking of the deck. Where my own well-tempered bronze would have sprung back to its own shape at once, the tip of this blade remained slightly curved and when I ran my finger over it I could feel that the edge had turned. I handed it back to Alectryon, remarking, ‘Whatever it is they have discovered, it won’t stand comparison with our bronze.’
‘Nevertheless,’ he said, ‘I think we must try to learn the secret. Let us look for a place to beach the ship, somewhere it will not easily be seen, and return overland to the valley.’
I turned to the helmsman and countermanded my first orders, and we drifted along close inshore until the first light of dawn. It was not long before we came to a sheltered inlet and ran the boat ashore. I called the men around me and related to them as much of Kerkios’s story as I thought it was good for them to hear and told them that Alectryon and I intended to return secretly to the village to try to learn more of Cresphontes’s plans. I thought it best not to mention the real purpose of our expedition. Finally I instructed them to prepare a grave for their dead captain and await our return. If we were not back by evening they were to bury Kerkios themselves and if by the following night we were still missing they were to sail for Pylos and tell their story to my father. Then I turned to Dexeus and told him to put together provisions for three of us for two days. He had been looking downcast but his face brightened when he understood he was to come with us.
Alectryon, meanwhile, had been examining the dagger in the daylight and now called me to him.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘Doesn’t the grey sheen of this blade call to your mind something you have seen before?’
I examined the blade again and said finally, ‘The only thing I have ever seen to resemble it are the fragments of iron in jewellery.’
‘Exactly,’ he agreed.
‘But iron!’ I exclaimed. ‘How could they obtain enough to work it into weapons? It is one of the rarest metals, found only in the thunderbolts that the Gods are supposed to throw. Surely the Dorians cannot have been so showered with such missiles that they have enough iron to work in this way.’
He grinned briefly. ‘Remember their God is Zeus, who is usually said to be the wielder of thunderbolts. But there may be a simpler explanation. I have heard it said that there are places where iron is found in ordinary rocks. Perhaps the Dorians have learned how to extract it from the stone.’
The sun was now showing itself above the mountains and it was time to be on our way if we were to have any hope of getting back before dark. During the night we had rounded a rocky headland and now we reckoned that only a range of hills separated us from the river that watered the Dorian settlement. It was a hard, hot climb and I could have wished myself without the weight of my spear and the sword slung from my shoulder, but at length we stood on the shoulder of the hill. Below us the river ran in its deep bed and we could see far to our left the outlying huts of Cresphontes’s village.
Keeping to the high ground, we skirted the head of the valley and crossed the river where it was no more than a rocky stream. After a short scramble we came out onto the open pasture above the settlement I had first seen on my lonely night expedition. As we reached the trees that sheltered the village we became aware of a noise I thought at first was the sound of sheep bells. Then I realised it was the clang of metal on metal. I looked at Alectryon and he nodded without speaking. As we descended, slipping cautiously from tree to tree, the noise grew louder until it seemed to fill the air and the tang of smoke came to my nostrils. Then the trees thinned and we had to go on our bellies. I saw Alectryon, who was leading, come to a stop behind some bushes. Then he looked back and beckoned. I crept to his side and he pointed through a screen of leaves, down into the green bowl of the valley.
For a moment I thought that we were indeed spying on some holy sacrifice, for on each one of the hearths a fire blazed, sending up smoke into the still air. But a look at the men around the hearths assured me that it was not so. These were no grave priests, nor were the objects laid before them upon the stones that I had thought were altars sacrificial beasts. The bustling activity reminded me of the workshops of craftsmen at home, though for a while the purpose of the various actions escaped me.
‘They are smiths,’ Dexeus whispered. ‘Like the bronze smiths at home. But what are they working?’
Alectryon drew the dagger from his belt and showed it to him. ‘It seems they have discovered how to work iron.’
Dexeus felt the edge of the blade and grunted, ‘Well, give me my good bronze!’
I pointed. ‘Look. That boy is carrying some of the completed work to that hut. They look like sword blades.’
Alectryon nodded. ‘That must be the store where they are kept until wanted. I should dearly like to see inside it!’
‘It could be done at night,’ I said.
He looked at me. ‘It would be risky …’
‘Not if we are quiet. They are not expecting any kind of trouble, and the only guards last time I was here were far down the valley, watching the path.’
‘Will the crew wait for us?’
‘I told them to wait until nightfall tomorrow.’
He nodded. ‘Very well. We’ll try it.’
We made ourselves as comfortable as possible under the sheltering bushes and settled down to wait for darkness. The long afternoon dragged past. We took in turns to doze, or watched the work going on below us. I brooded over the events of the past hours. Since Kerkios’s death there had been little time for thought. At length I said, ‘It is hard to believe that Cresphontes can be so treacherous. I had come to think of him as a friend.’
Alectryon nodded soberly. ‘So had I. Mind you, I always had a feeling that he was only our friend as long as it suited him to be.’
‘Apparently our laws of trust and friendship mean little to them anyway,’ I remarked, and told them for the first time about Xouthos and the stolen cup.
Dexeus shifted his position and said flatly, ‘Well, I never liked either of them.’
Alectryon gave him an affectionate look and said, ‘Well, it seems you judged better than either of us on this occasion.’
I loosened my sword in its sheath. ‘He will pay fo
r Kerkios’s death one day. I swear to that.’
Sunset came and the workers packed up their tools and went to sluice themselves in the nearby stream. Soon the smell of cooking rising from the huts awakened my appetite. The three of us sat sniffing the air until Dexeus’s stomach rumbled so loudly that we had to stifle our laughter.
Alectryon said, ‘I think we had better eat some of our food, before Dexeus’s stomach gives us away!’
So we ate, and wrapped ourselves in our cloaks against the coming of night, and waited.
By the time it was fully dark and the last sounds of activity had died away in the huts below us we were all stiff and cramped from the long wait in our hiding place. Even then Alectryon made us hold back a little longer. I reflected to myself with a brief smile that not long ago I would have bitterly resented his assumption of command. Now I took it as a matter of course. At length he gave the word and we crept out of our concealing bushes and stole down the slope towards the buildings. In spite of the darkness I felt that eyes must be watching me from the huts. At any moment, it seemed, we must hear a cry of alarm. Or perhaps the first warning that our presence was known would be the silent rising of armed men around us, or the fierce bite of a dagger in my flesh.
We skirted the edge of the circle of huts until we came to the one that seemed to be the storeroom. The door was fastened with a wooden bar dropped into slots on either side but there was nothing to prevent us from lifting it. The door creaked on its hinges and we froze, hearts beating wildly, but no one challenged us and we crept inside. The only light came through the open door behind us and for a moment we stood staring blindly about us. Then Dexeus moved and there was a clink of metal as his foot struck something in the darkness. Alectryon gripped his arm and said, ‘Wait!’
He turned to the door, paused for a moment looking out and then was gone like a shadow. I almost called after him. We waited breathlessly until he returned, a smouldering brand from one of the hearths in his hand. He blew it into life and held it up. In its dull glow we examined the contents of the hut. Broad, flat iron swords were stacked in piles around the walls. Clay boxes contained arrowheads by the hundred. There were tools and other equipment too but there was no doubt about the main purpose of the work we had seen going on.
For some moments nobody spoke. Then I breathed, ‘There must be as many weapons here as there are in my father’s armoury at the palace!’
Alectryon carefully lifted one of the swords from the pile.
‘We will take one with us as proof of what we have seen.’
He extinguished the brand and we slipped out of the hut and barred the door behind us. Once we were clear of the buildings we began to run and did not stop until we were safely among the trees again. We did not dare to sleep, and so pressed on through the darkness until we reached the river, where the roughness of the terrain forced us to stop and wait for dawn. The sun was almost at its height before we stumbled wearily down the last slope to where we had beached our ship. The crew welcomed us with relief and told us that they had buried Kerkios as I had instructed when we failed to return the previous evening. They showed us the grave they had dug among the trees just above the tide line. A small cairn of stones had been raised over it and the waves whispered a constant lullaby. I thought Kerkios would have been happy with the choice of such a place. I was weary to my bones but I knew we could not leave until the proper rites had been performed, so at my orders fires were lit and once again we made the ritual offerings for the spirit of our dead friend. Then we embarked, sorrowfully, and I ordered the helmsman to make all speed for Pylos.
We accomplished the journey home in two days, coming to the city just at nightfall. There were fewer people on the beach than at our last arrival, owing to the lateness of the hour, and I was glad to be able to go straight to the palace without any ceremonies of welcome. News of our return had run ahead of us, however, and we found the household in the courtyard to greet us. Our faces must have told them that all was not well for the smiles of welcome faded as we passed. I saluted my father and begged an immediate private audience. He granted it at once, but turned on me as soon as we entered his room.
‘Alkmaion, have you not enough sense to hide whatever is troubling you? Soon the whole city will know that the Prince has returned with ill tidings. We shall have rumours of who knows what disasters afoot.’
‘I am sorry, sir,’ I answered, more curtly than I had ever spoken to him before, for my senses were raw with weariness and anxiety, ‘but I have news which will not permit me to dissemble.’
‘Well?’ he asked shortly, giving me a piercing look.
I floundered for a moment, unable to decide where to begin. Then I said, ‘Kerkios is dead.’
‘Kerkios? How?’
‘Killed by one of Cresphontes’s men.’
‘An accident?’
‘No.’
I told him the facts as briefly as I could. When I finished he turned away and seated himself slowly.
‘So. This is the outcome of your “friendship” with the Dorians!’
That struck like a blow and I said sharply, ‘I believed they were my friends. I sought only to bring about a useful alliance.’
He gave me a bitter look and remarked, ‘When you come to be older perhaps you will realise that a man cannot make friends with wolves.’
The closeness of this to my own thoughts struck me silent for a moment and Alectryon, who had accompanied me, stepped forward.
‘This is the dagger that killed Kerkios. I think you should look at it, my lord.’
My father took the dagger from him with a frown, then bent his head to examine it more closely, and finally looked up at us.
‘What metal is this?’
‘Iron, sir.’ I answered, and took the sword from under my cloak, ‘as this is.’
He bade us both be seated then and listened in silence while we told him of the metal workers in the Forbidden Valley. Then he said slowly, ‘So. Cresphontes is building ships and storing up these new weapons. You say there were as many as my armoury contains?’
‘Yes, sir,’ I answered and Alectryon added, ‘Clearly they have found an abundant source of the metal.’
I went on urgently, ‘He also mentioned the prophecy to Kerkios. I am sure he means to attack us. We hastened back here to prepare you.’
My father raised his eyebrows. ‘My dear Alkmaion, your news is certainly disturbing, but I fail to understand your haste. One would think the Dorians were at your heels! Cresphontes is building ships. Even so, he is hardly likely to be able to put into service a fleet of sufficient power to dare to attack us. And he has had a chance to see, at first hand, how well equipped and well trained our navy is. I cannot see any particular urgency in the situation.’
‘But Kerkios must be revenged!’ I exclaimed.
Slowly my father shook his head. ‘The days are gone, Alkmaion, when one man’s death was sufficient to launch a fleet to avenge him. We have enough to concern us at home, without embarking on a war with the Dorians.’
I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me short, saying, ‘You are both tired after your adventures. Go now and rest. Tomorrow, since you have allowed the whole court to see that you bring news of trouble, you had better repeat your story before the rest of the Royal Kin and we will hear their opinions. But an expedition against the Dorians is out of the question at this time.’
I hesitated, still disposed to argue, but Alectryon touched my arm and shook his head. We withdrew and I took him up to my room where I dismissed Mukala with a curtness she did not forgive for some days. When we were alone I paced the room and gave vent to my anger and incredulity.
He gave my temper free rein until I fell silent of my own accord and then said, ‘My dear, has it never occurred to you that your father has troubles within the kingdom without courting more outside it?’
I stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you imagine Antilochos is the only member of the Royal Kin who is j
ealous, or desirous of power?’
I went and sat down near him, beginning to see more clearly things that I had only dimly perceived before.
‘My Uncle Paion is jealous also.’
‘And he and Antilochos are the same at heart.’
‘And the rest of the Kin? Echelaon?’
‘My lord Echelaon will support whichever side seems to offer him the best advantage. Andropompous and Peisistratos are loyal. The rest … Who can say? Paion and Echelaon have a great deal of influence.’
‘But surely they would not scheme to overthrow my father?’
‘We have good reason to believe that Antilochos schemed to dishonour you, and has endeavoured to win your place in the esteem of those who have power.’
‘But could they succeed? Surely the people would not turn from the King?’
‘Not as things are, no. As long as the country is prosperous and at peace. But many would resent being asked to go to war to revenge a man they have hardly heard of.’
‘But it is not just that! The Dorians are dangerous.’
‘We shall find it hard to persuade them of that. You can be sure that Paion will do his best to make nothing of it, if only to discredit you. If your father forced an expedition Paion would be ready to fan every murmur of discontent.’
‘Then send him, too. He is the Commander-in-Chief.’
‘And risk allowing him to return with a victory to his credit and the army more under his control than ever? No, my dear. If we wish to help your father we must do it not by demanding a war of revenge but by concentrating on persuading our leaders to prepare for an attack. As your father says, it cannot come this year. It is too late in the summer to start a campaign. We are safe at least until the spring. By then we can be sufficiently prepared to hold them off.’ He laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘Now, let me call Mukala and tell her to bring some food. You must eat and sleep. We shall need our wits about us in the morning.’
