Conspiracy of the Islands (The Age of Bronze)

by Diana Gainer

  Odushéyu was suddenly overcome. He clapped his hands to his head and tore at his sparse hair. "Owái, I know who they are!" he burst out, wailing. "I did not want to say, because I was afraid. When every Ak'áyan knows, he will have to join in a great expedition overseas, to fight for the honor of Ak'áiwiya. Ai, it is Agamémnon's grand alliance all over again. And it will end just as badly for us, I know it! But I cannot keep silent any longer. We are all in danger. I know what nation cuts off the hands of the slain. I once fought men who painted themselves red and white."

  Diwoméde was taken aback. "Who are they, Odushéyu? Who are these godless men?"

  Sobbing like a child, the It'ákan cried out, "Mízriyans! Owái, for months I talked of a Mízriyan expedition and no one would listen. Now I do not want to go south any longer, and yet I must. Diwoméde, this means disaster. Mízriya must have reunited and now it is expanding its empire across the Great Green Sea to Ak'áiwiya's shore."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  RAMUSIS

  Puláda, the new wánaks of Argo, came to the port of Tíruns when winter's cold still made travel miserable. He came to oversee the building and refitting of his fleet in preparation for the summer's expedition against Mízriya. Following Odushéyu's recommendation, the young king ordered his vessels provided with the large, permanent masts of the marauders' ships, with baskets aloft for lookouts. These things were done, despite the grumbling of the local carpenters. Though it went against tradition to work in the cold season, though it violated custom, still the wánaks demanded that it be done. Shipbuilding was a lengthy task, the youthful monarch explained, one that normally took many months. This year, however, they did not have much time for the work. Ak'áiwiya's warships had to sail for the south before Mízriya's could come north to renew their attacks. The Ak'áyans had to be ready to sail before the end of spring. So long as Argo's skies were clear, work proceeded on the new fleet, under the expert guidance of the It'ákan master mariner.

  Diwoméde hesitantly questioned his new overlord about Odushéyu's prominent role in these preparations. "The man is a famous pirate," the qasiléyu pointed out. "Although he seems earnest enough, he has told too many lies in his lifetime to be trusted completely."

  But it was the qasiléyu and not the mariner whom Puláda did not trust. "I have not forgotten that you supported Orésta's claim to kingship against my own. I believe Odushéyu," Puláda told his vassal, "and I have faith in his cleverness. You, on the other hand, will have to prove yourself in this campaign. Unless I find good reason to do otherwise, I will replace you with the It'ákan when we return from Mízriya. If you want to remain in my service, if you hope to rule even as small a fortress as that on the island of Sálami, I advise you to keep any more treacherous thoughts to yourself."

  Ships from the rest of Ak'áiwiya assembled in the waters off Tíruns as spring warmed the lands. When the wánaktes and qasiléyus of all the Ak'áyan kingdoms gathered in the mégaron at Tíruns, Puláda's fleet was ready. The youthful king of Argo stood before the throne with his scepter in his hand, facing the troop leaders assembled about the central hearth. "Ak'áiwiya faces a greater threat than ever before," Puláda announced to the lawagétas. "We must form a new Ak'áyan alliance. It must be stronger and it must last longer than the one that Agamémnon led to Tróya years ago. If we fail to unite, every Ak'áyan land will see its cities plundered and its countryside burned."

  On every side of the fireplace, quiet nods met the king's speech. The other rulers had heard of the sufferings of Lakedaimón and Mesheníya. Clearly it was a formidable enemy they faced and no wánaks could hope to survive on his own.

  "Our first task here is to choose an overlord, one to lead the expedition against Mízriya," Puláda continued. When nods and a grim silence were again the only response, the wánaks concluded, "I propose myself."

  A man only a little older than Puláda leaped to his feet from his seat close to the door. His cheeks were flushed with anger above his beard. Though his face was unwrinkled, it had been marred by violence. In the recent past, a great blow had smashed his nose and the scar pulled his upper lip into a permanent sneer. "You are a northerner, Aitolíyan," he cried out, as he strode toward Puláda. "Ak'áiwiya's overlord must come from the south." As he finished his statement, he took hold of the king's staff.

  "T'rasuméde," growled Meneláwo, from his chair beside Puláda's throne. Not bothering to rise, the older king commanded, "Sit down. We let you join us in the assembly out of respect for your dead father. But wánaks Néstor would not be pleased with your behavior. You have only a slender claim to Mesheníya's kingship, as it is, and your troops have all been slaughtered. Sit down and keep silent. Listen to your elders."

  T'rasuméde hesitated. Puláda did not release the staff to him and the other faces in the assembly were hostile. The battered Mesheníyan prince returned to his chair and sat, his arms crossed on his narrow chest, biting his lip to gain self-control. As he did so, Diwoméde limped forward to take his place. Puláda eyed his qasiléyu with suspicion, but released the gilded staff, squinting his eyes.

  Diwoméde addressed the assembled leaders forcefully. "Wánaks Puláda is a northerner by birth," he admitted, with a nod to T'rasuméde. "He wears a northerner's feathered crown. But he is no usurper. He rules Argo by right of marriage to a southern priestess, daughter of Agamémnon and Klutaimnéstra. Elect my king as your overlord. Ak'áiwiya's paramount leader must come from Argo. This kingdom is still the most powerful of all the countries, just as it was when Agamémnon held this scepter." He raised the staff in the air so that all could see the enameled birds of prey perching atop it. "Follow us to Mízriya for your honor. Or, if you lack areté, stay home. We will blacken our spears with your blood when we return."

  "Then you lead us, Diwoméde," T'rasuméde urged, ignoring the Lakedaimóniyan king's glare, along with his earlier advice. "Or if we must have a wánaks, let Meneláwo be the overlord. He is an Argive by birth." This time there were other heads nodding about the Mesheníyan.

  A younger man stormed forward at that, one not yet fully grown, only the slightest wisps on his chin. Wearing a feather-rimmed cap, the youth tore the speaker's staff from Diwoméde's hand and called out, "I am Mármaro, prince of T'eshalíya. My troops refuse to follow any kinsman of the man who murdered our wánaks."

  Stung by righteous anger, Diwoméde shouted back, "I did not kill your prince Púrwo!"

  Behind Mármaro, his younger brother spoke up. "He was speaking of Péleyu's death." Shoving the younger boy back down on the bench, Mármaro repeated, "I was speaking of king Péleyu's death." Other northern warriors murmured their support for the young T'eshalíyan. Even the wánaks Puláda shot Diwoméde a hard look, half questioning, half accusing.

  The qasiléyu was taken completely by surprise. "I never touched Péleyu. I did not even know that he was dead. He was certainly still living when I left his kingdom."

  With a grunt, Meneláwo pushed himself up from his chair and marched heavily toward the throne. Diwoméde gave way respectfully at the older king's approach, but Mármaro stood his ground. The Lakedaimóniyan spoke without grasping the scepter. "If the blame for Péleyu's death falls on any man, it is on me. I accept this guilt. Prince Mármaro, you may negotiate for a blood-payment with Orésta. My nephew rules Lakedaimón in my absence and he has this authority. Or let wánaks Puláda judge the matter for us." Turning to address the whole assembly, he went on, "This issue must not be used to prevent the formation of an Ak'áyan alliance. I do not ask to be the leader of this expedition. I am not interested in overlordship, only in revenge for my losses."

  A second P'ilísta rose to speak, this one fully grown and in his prime. "I am Demop'ówon, wánaks of Attika," he announced. " I too require vengeance before I join the alliance. You may absolve others of blame for T'eshalíya's misfortunes, Meneláwo. But Attika will have nothing to do with a joint expedition until Diwoméde and his Argives are punished for the atrocities they committed in my kingdom."

&n
bsp; The qasiléyu had returned to his seat, as Meneláwo spoke. At Demop'ówon's words, he stood again. "Atrocities!" Diwoméde cried indignantly. "How can you even use that word? It was Attika and her ally who destroyed Qoyotíyan Kópai. After that sacrilege, I hear you even sacked holy Put'ó!" His hand fell upon the sword hilt at his side.

  All about the raised, central fireplace, angry men left their seats and drew their weapons, shouting accusations at each other. Their bronze blades cast reflected flames in every direction. Frightened serving women shrank back against the walls of the chamber, with their upraised arms mirroring the gestures of the painted captives of the frescoes. Meneláwo stood, his hands up, and pleaded for peace. Southern lawagétas looked to him but P'ilístas ignored the Lakedaimóniyan. Puláda demanded silence with imperious anger. Now it was the northerners who listened, while the Zeyugelátes went on cursing. Neither wánaks could gain the ears of them all.

  Odushéyu suddenly came alive. He hopped up on the now-vacant throne, scooping the staff from Demop'ówon's surprised grip as he went. Standing on the king's seat, where all could see him, the It'ákan addressed them in a booming voice that drowned out all others. "Listen, Ak'áyans! Hear me, sons of Diwiyána! We are all brothers here, sons of the same Great Mother. Remember that kinship and not your petty grievances. Every king here has his enemies. What kingdom has never made war on its neighbor? But we must forget these quarrels and remember why we came together. We are facing a powerful enemy, a land that was the greatest power in the world not so many years ago. Pay close attention to what I say. I am the only man in Ak'áiwiya who can reveal Mízriya's strengths and weaknesses." Though swords remained unsheathed all around the circular hearth and though there were bitter whispers among the feathered warriors, Odushéyu had their attention.

  The former exile continued, his voice pouring forth as full and melodious as it had ever been. "Remember how all of Ak'áiwiya united under Agamémnon, years ago. Were there no quarrels between kingdoms then? Of course there were! Did the wánaktes of that time hold no grudges against their neighbors? Of course they did! But we put these things out of our minds and followed a single overlord.

  "Think, what did we do when we sailed to Tróya? Have you forgotten? We sacked the city that was the source of our best-trained horses and that most valuable of all metals, tin. But it was not just a fortress that fell to Ak'áiwiya. The Náshiyan empire suffered a fatal blow the day we entered Tróya's gates. Ai, if only we had remained united after that victory, we could have plundered the whole of Assúwa and half of Kanaqán. Today, all the land between Tróya and Millewánda might have been ruled by Ak'áyans. We could have created an Ak'áyan empire greater than the Náshiyan.

  "But we let our alliance fall apart. We quarreled among ourselves. What has Ak'áiwiya known ever since? Drought, famine, civil war, kings deposed from their thrones, pirates controlling the sea, bandits roaming every land – that is what. For over ten years all of our lands suffered these afflictions. And there was worse to come. What little questions are you arguing about now? Have you not heard what happened in southern Ak'áiwiya last summer? Mízriyans attacked our shores, leaving in their wake a swath of destruction such as no Ak'áyan has ever seen before!"

  "You lie," Mármaro spat, his youthful voice cracking in his excitement. "I heard that the survivors recognized men of Kanaqán."

  Odushéyu nodded, judiciously ignoring the insult. "True, but Mízriya employs thousands of Kanaqániyans as mercenaries. The refugees spoke of men painted red and white, too. Only one nation prepares for war in this manner. These men are Káushans. They are in the pay of Mízriya, also. Some people might still doubt me," the mariner went on, seeing that the expression on other, older faces matched that on Mármaro's. "But we have had word that the year before, Mízriya set a flame through all their former colonies in Kanaqán."

  The eyes of the doubters fell upon Puláda at that. The young wánaks nodded. "It is as he says. I was skeptical myself, at first. But the It'ákans made an attack on some Tróyan ships last year, vessels under Ainyáh's command. I have spoken with the prisoners who were taken in that fight and they confirm what Odushéyu has just told you. The Náshiyan empire has disintegrated. Assúwa is in complete disorder and people are heading south and east with all their possessions. Kanaqán's northern ports have been overrun with the sons of Dáwan. In the south of that same land, Qapíru hill people have taken over many cities and they refuse to pay tribute to their Mízriyan masters. The Great King of the southern empire led a campaign against these rebels, using the most hideous techniques of warfare. Everywhere his army marched, they killed every living thing, the people, the cattle, everything. They even burned the fields."

  "But that is mad," Demop'ówon objected. "No army does that, not even the Ashúriyans and they are known for their brutality. Why would the Mízriyans destroy herds and grain? Do they not need to eat like other men?" The Attikan king looked around the room for support.

  Odushéyu raised his hands to quiet the objections. "Ai, this Mízriya is more than a land of grain-growers and cattlemen. It is the wealthiest kingdom in the world, an empire that stretches to the southern rim of the plate that is the world. There is more bronze in the smallest of Mízriya's citadels than ever Agamémnon held in golden Mukénai. They can afford to do whatever they like. Ai, by the gods, how can I explain what power the Great King of the southern empire has?" He clapped his hands to his head with that last anguished cry. Once more the lawagétas fell silent and gave the It'ákan their attention.

  Odushéyu waved his arms dramatically, shouting, "There are more people in Mízriya than in all other countries of the world combined! We have no words to describe their number, they are so many. If you were to form companies of all Mízriya's men, dividing them into groups of a hundred, you would have so many hundreds of these companies that you would still have more than you have words to count with. If you combined these companies of hundreds into great armies of ten companies each, still you could not count all the armies on your fingers and toes, or on all the fingers and toes of your wife and those of all your children!"

  T'rasuméde looked about at the tense faces and asked the question on many minds, as the men tried to picture that great number. "If they are so many, how can even a united Ak'áiwiya stand up to them?" Kings and qasiléyus turned expectantly to the former exile.

  He choked a little. Below him, Dáuniya held up a full wine cup and the gray-haired pirate drank thirstily. "The Mízriyans are many," Odushéyu answered at last, his voice quiet and calm. "Their army has always had more soldiers than that of any other nation. Even so, the Náshiyan emperor fought them to a stand-still in the days of our grandfathers. Mízriya has never been unbeatable, you see, even when it was at the peak of its power."

  Diwoméde frowned. "But when Qáttushli was emperor, Náshiya was a world power. Ak'áiwiya is not and it never was."

  Puláda lifted a hand to his moustache in shock. "I had not thought about that," the young king said quietly. The words seemed to echo in the stillness of the big chamber.

  Odushéyu realized he had overdone his description. The troop leaders were on the verge of reaching a unanimous verdict, but it was not the one he had called for. "But look at the lands of Assúwa today," the It'ákan urged, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. "Náshiya once defeated Mízriya, but what did we accomplish in the Tróyan war? The emperor of Náshiya was a mighty king in his youth, as Diwoméde says, but Qáttushli died a broken, old man. That was because of our deeds, yes, ours, just on the plain at Tróya. After Qáttushli, his son reigned over an empire that crumbled between his fingers. And what about Qáttushli's grandsons? I have heard that Arnuwánda died a traitor's death when his imperial father overcame Ashúr. Think of that! Náshiyan emperors could prevail over two empires, first the Mízriyan, then the Ashúriyan. But they could NOT...STAND...AGAINST...US!"

  The lawagétas were quiet. Still, some were doubtful. Again, Diwoméde spoke up. "But, we did not face the full strength of th
e Náshiyan empire at Tróya. We fought a number of allied kingdoms, but Qáttushli died about the time we sacked the city. If he had lived longer, we might not have won. Afterward, when Tudqáliya was emperor, we had very little effect. The empire crumbled, true enough, but it was the Lúkiyans who gave Tudqáliya so much trouble, not us. I am not sure that Ak'áiwiya, even united, is a match for any empire or ever was."

  "But look at the Náshiyan empire today," the former exile pleaded, fearing that he was losing his case. "Qáttushli had one more grandson. I know his name but do any of you? How many have heard of Shúppilu-líyuma? How many know if he now rules any fragment of his grandfather's empire? Who even knows whether he still lives?"

  Puláda now answered. "I had heard something of these troubles in Assúwa. We all did. But even if the Náshiyan empire has succumbed completely, as you say, it was from more blows than the one Agamémnon dealt. Diwoméde is right about that. Tell us the truth, now. Can Ak'áiwiya prevail against this great southern empire?"

  Odushéyu wiped his moist forehead and surveyed the anxious faces before continuing. An idea came to him. "Ai, how can I make you see? That is not the right question. The real issue is whether Ak'áiwiya can afford not to prevail. When I escaped from Mízriyan captivity, the southern empire had fallen into warring kingdoms, north divided from south, east battling west, just as Ak'áiwiya is now. Foreigners ruled in the north, then, and nothing bedevils a man worse than serving a foreign king. But that is how it was in Mízriya, a Libúwan ruling in the west, a Lúkiyan, yes, incredible though it sounds, a Lúkiyan pirate in the northeast. This is exactly what Ak'áiwiya faces if we do not unite now. Do you see? Foreigners will come to us, if we do not go to them. Think what that would mean. Your lives are difficult now, but things could be still worse. Barbarians would control your sea routes. You would be forced to pay a tribute of grain and cattle every year. Your very children would go abroad as slaves. Is this what you want for your kingdoms?"