Vengeance of Orion

by Ben Bova

  "I understand his power," I said. "Will you keep him as your chief minister when you become king?"

  "My father lives," the prince said flatly. No trace of anger at my presumption. No trace of rancor toward Nekoptah. He had learned to hide his emotions well, this young man.

  "Yet," I pressed, "if your father should become unable to rule, through sickness or melancholy—would you be appointed to rule in his place, or would Nekoptah act for him?"

  For long moments Aramset said nothing. His dark eyes bored into me, as if trying to see how far he could trust this stranger from a distant land.

  Finally he said, "Nekoptah is perfectly capable of administering the kingdom. He is doing so now, with my father's approval."

  There was no sense pressing him further. He was wise enough not to say anything against Nekoptah that might be overheard. But I thought he did not like the fat chief minister very much. His hands had balled themselves into fists at my first mention of him and remained tightly clenched until he bade me good night and walked off to his cabin.

  We reached the delta country at last, rich with green farmlands, crisscrossed by irrigation canals, lush with beautiful long-legged birds of snowy white and delicate pink. The local garrison commanders conferred with General Raseth and told him that the Sea Peoples had taken several villages near the mouth of a western arm of the river. They estimated the number of barbarian warriors at more than a thousand.

  That evening, the general, Prince Aramset, and I took supper together in the small cabin atop the boat's afterdeck. Raseth was in a jovial mood as he dug into the stewed fish and onions, f

  "Make allowance for the local troops' natural exaggerations," he said, reaching for the wine pitcher, "and we have nothing more than a few hundred barbarians to deal with."

  "While we have more than a thousand trained men," said the prince.

  Raseth nodded. "It's simply a matter of finding the barbarians and hitting them before they can scatter or get back to their ships."

  I thought of the Achaian camp along the beach at Troy. I wondered if Odysseus or Big Ajax would be among my enemies.

  "The horses and chariots are coming up on the supply ships," Raseth was muttering to no one in particular. "In a few days' time we will be ready to strike."

  I looked at him from across the supper table. "Strike where? Are you certain the barbarians will still be in the villages where they were seen several days ago?"

  Raseth scratched at his chin. "Hmm. They could move off elsewhere in their ships, couldn't they?"

  "Yes. Using the sea, they could move quickly across the breadth of the delta and strike a hundred miles away before we know they've pulled out."

  "Then we need scouts to keep watch on them," said Aramset.

  The general beamed at his young prince. "Excellent!" he roared. "You will make a fine conquering general one day, your highness."

  Then they both turned to me. Raseth said, "Orion, you and your Hittites will scout the villages where the barbarians were last seen. If they have gone, you will return here and tell us. If they are still there, you will keep them under observation until the main body of our army arrives."

  Before I could say anything, Prince Aramset added, "And I will go with you!"

  The general shook his blunt, bullet-shaped head. "That is far too great a risk to take, your highness."

  Especially if I'm betrayed to Menalaos by one of Nekoptah's spies, I thought. Was Raseth working for Nekoptah? What secret orders did he carry in his head?

  Prince Aramset was not pleased at being balked. "My father sent me on this expedition to learn of war. I will not sit in the rear safely while others are doing the fighting."

  "When the fighting commences, your highness, you will be by my side," General Raseth said. "Those are my instructions." He added, "From the king's own lips."

  Aramset was taken aback. But only for a moment. "Well, in the meantime, I can accompany Orion and his men on this scouting mission."

  "I cannot allow that, sir," the general replied.

  The youngster turned to me. "I'll stay beside Lukka. He won't let any harm come to me."

  as gently as I could, I replied, "But what harm may come to Lukka, when he has you to look after and neglects his other duties?"

  The prince stared at me, his mouth open to answer, yet no words coming forth. He was a goodhearted youth, and he genuinely loved Lukka. His only problem was that he was young, and like all young men, he could not visualize himself being hurt, or maimed, or killed.

  Raseth took advantage of the prince's silence. "Orion," he said, his voice suddenly deep with the authority of command, "you will take your men overland to the villages where the barbarians were last seen, and report their movements to me by sun-mirror. You will leave tomorrow at dawn."

  "And me?" the prince asked.

  "You will stay here with me, your highness. The chariots and horses will soon arrive. There will be battle enough to satisfy any man within a few days."

  I nodded grim agreement.

  It was a two-day march from the riverbank where our boat had tied up to the coastal village where the black-hulled Achaian ships lay pulled up on the beach.

  The land was flat and laced with irrigation canals, but the fields were broad enough to allow chariot warfare, if you did not mind tearing up the crops growing in them. Lukka had the men camp along the edge of one of the larger canals, by a bridge that could easily be held by a couple of determined men or, failing that, burned so that pursuers would have to either wade across the canal or find the next bridge, a mile or so away.

  Then he and I crossed the bridge and made our way through the fields of knee-high wheat, tossing in the breeze, until we came to the edge of the village. It lay along the beach, and I saw dozens of small fishing boats tied up to weathered wooden piers. The Achaian warships were up on the sand, tents and makeshift shacks dotted around them, smoke from cook fires sending thin tendrils of gray toward the sky.

  Despite the breeze coming in from the sea, the morning was hot, and the sun burned on our backs as we lay at the edge of the wheat field and watched the activity in the village. None of the ships bore the blue dolphin's head of Ithaca, and I found myself happy that Odysseus was not there.

  "There's only eight ships here," said Lukka.

  "Either the others have moved on to other villages, or they've returned to Argos."

  "Why would some of them return and leave the others here?"

  "Menalaos seeks his wife," I said. "He won't return without her."

  "He can't fight his way through all of Egypt with a few hundred men."

  "Perhaps he's waiting for reinforcements," I said. "He may have sent his other ships back to Argos to bring the main body of Achaian warriors here."

  Lukka shook his head. "Even with every warrior in Argos he wouldn't be able to reach the capital."

  "No," I admitted, speaking the words as the ideas formed in my mind. "But if he can cause enough destruction here in the delta, where most of Egypt's food is grown, then he might be able to force the Egyptians to give him what he wants."

  "The woman?"

  I hesitated. "The woman—for his pride. And something more, I think."

  Lukka gave me a quizzical look.

  "Power," I said. "His brother Agamemnon has taken control of the straits that lead to the Sea of Black Waters. Menalaos seeks to gain similar power here in Egypt."

  It sounded right to me. It had to be right. My whole plan depended on it.

  "But how do you know those are Menalaos's ships?" the ever-practical Lukka asked. "Their sails are furled, their masts down. They might be the ships of some other Achaian king or princeling."

  I agreed with him. "That is why I'm going into the Achaian camp tonight—to see if Menalaos is truly there."

  Chapter 40

  If Lukka objected to my plan, he kept his doubts to himself. We returned to our camp by the canal, ate a small meal while the sun set, and then I started back to the village and the Ach
aian camp.

  The villagers seemed to be living with the invading barbarians without friction. They had little choice, of course, but as I picked my way through the darkness I sensed none of the tenseness of a village under occupation by a hostile force. None of the mud-brick houses seemed burned. There were no troops posted to guard duty anywhere. The villagers seemed to have retired to their homes for a night's rest without worrying about their daughters or their lives.

  There were no signs of a battle having been fought, nor even a skirmish. If anything, the Achaians seemed to have set up a long-term occupation here. They had not come for raping and pillaging. They had something more permanent in mind.

  Good, I thought. So did I.

  I made my way down the shadowy streets of the village, twisting and twining under the cold light of a crescent moon. The wind was warm now, blowing from landward, making the palms and fruit trees sigh. Somewhere a dog barked. I heard no cries or lamentations, no screams of terror. It was a quiet, peaceful village—with a few hundred heavily armed warriors camped along the beach.

  Their campfires smoldered in front of each ship. A line of chariots, their yoke poles pointing starward, rested on the far side of the camp, near the rude fencing of the horse corral. A few men slept on the ground, wrapped in blankets, but most of them were inside their tents or the rude lean-tos they had constructed. A trio of guards loafed at the only fire that still blazed. They seemed relaxed rather than alert, like men who had been posted guards as a matter of form, rather than for true security.

  I headed straight toward them.

  One of them spotted me approaching and said a word to his two companions. They were not alarmed. Slowly they picked up their long spears and got to their feet to face me.

  "Who are you and what do you want?" the leader called to me.

  I came close enough for them to recognize my face in the firelight. "I am Orion, of the House of Ithaca."

  That surprised them.

  "Ithaca? Has Odysseus come here? The last we heard he had been lost at sea."

  They lowered their spear points as I came to within arm's reach of them. "The last I saw of Odysseus was on the beach at Ilios," I said. "I have been traveling overland ever since."

  One of them began to remember. "You were the one who had the storyteller for a slave."

  "The blasphemer that Agamemnon blinded."

  An old anger rose inside me. "Yes," I replied. "The one Agamemnon blinded. Is the High King here?"

  They looked uneasily at one another. "No. This is the camp of Menalaos."

  "Are there no other Achaian lords with him?"

  "Not yet. But soon there will be. Menalaos is mad with rage since his wife ran away from him after Troy fell. He swears he won't leave this land until she is returned to him."

  "If I were you, Orion," said the third one, "I'd run as far from this camp as I could. Menalaos believes you took Helen from him."

  I ignored his warning. "How does he know she is in Egypt?"

  The leader of the trio shrugged. "From what I hear, he's had a message from some high and mighty Egyptian, telling him that the lady Helen has come here. They're holding her in some palace someplace."

  "That's what they say," another of the guards agreed.

  The story that Nefertu had unknowingly revealed to me was stunningly accurate. Nekoptah must have sent word to Menalaos as soon as Nefertu had reported Helen's presence in Egypt, months ago. Of course Nefertu had recognized that she was an important woman of the Achaian nobility; he had finally told me as much. And Nekoptah, wily scoundrel that he was, immediately saw how he could use Helen as bait to bring Menalaos and the other warlords of the Sea Peoples into his own service.

  I said, "Take me to Menalaos. I have important news to tell him."

  "The king is asleep. Wait until morning. Don't be in such a hurry to get yourself killed."

  I debated within myself. Should I insist on waking Menalaos? They were giving me a chance to escape his anger. Should I go back to Lukka and our camp, then return in the morning? I decided to wait here at the beach and get a few hours' sleep. Menalaos's wrath seemed of little consequence.

  They looked at me askance, but found a blanket for me and left me to sleep. I stretched out on the sand and closed my eyes.

  To find myself in a strange chamber, surrounded by machines with blinking lights and screens that showed colored curving lines pulsing across them. The entire ceiling glowed with a cool light that cast no shadows.

  I turned and saw the sharp-featured Creator I had dubbed Hermes. As before, he was clad in a glittering silver metallic uniform from chin to boots. He dipped his pointed chin once in greeting.

  Without preamble he asked, "Have you found him yet?"

  "No," I lied, hoping that he could not see my mind.

  He arched a brow. "Really? In all the time you've been in Egypt, you have no idea where he's hiding?"

  "I haven't seen him. I don't know where he is."

  With a thin smile, Hermes said, "Then I'll tell you. Look into the great pyramid. Our sensors here detect a power drain focused on that structure. He is obviously using it as his fortress."

  I countered, "Or he is allowing you to think so, while actually he's somewhere—or somewhen—else."

  Hermes's eyes narrowed. "Yes . . . he is clever enough to decoy us. That's why it is vital that you get inside the pyramid and see if he's actually there."

  "I am trying to do that."

  "And?"

  "I am trying," I repeated. "There are complications."

  "Orion," he said, making a show of being patient with me, "there is not much time left. We must find him before he brings down this entire continuum. He's gone quite mad, and he's capable of destroying us all."

  What of it? I thought. Perhaps the universes would be better off with all of us dead.

  "Do you understand me?" Hermes insisted. "Time is running out for us. There is only a matter of days!"

  "I'm doing the best I can," I said. "I tried to penetrate the great pyramid, and it didn't work. Now I must enter it physically, and for that I need the cooperation of the king, or possibly the chief priest of Amon."

  Hermes gusted a great impatient sigh. "Do what you must, Orion, but for the love of the continuum, do it quickly!"

  I nodded, and found myself blinking at the first streaks of dawn in the clouded sky of the Egyptian shore.

  Half a dozen armed guards were standing around me, one of them poking the butt of his spear into my ribs.

  "On your feet, Orion. My lord Menalaos wants to roast your carcass for breakfast."

  I scrambled to my feet. They grabbed my arms and held me fast as they marched me off toward the king's tent. I had no chance to reach for my sword, still laying on my blanket. But the dagger that I kept strapped to my thigh was still there, beneath my kilt.

  Menalaos was pacing like a caged lion as the guards brought me before him. Several of his nobles stood uneasily before the tent, swords already at their sides, although they wore no armor. Menalaos was clad in an old tunic, and had a blood-red cloak over his shoulders. He was quivering with fury so that his dark beard trembled.

  "It is you!" he bellowed as the guards brought me to him. "Light the fires! I'll roast him inch by inch!"

  The nobles—all of them younger than Menalaos, I noticed—looked almost frightened at their king's rage.

  "What are you waiting for?" he snapped. "This is the man who stole my wife! He's going to pay for that with the slowest death agonies anyone has ever suffered!"

  "Your wife is well and safe in the capital of Egypt," I said. "If you will listen to me for a . . ."

  Enraged, he stepped up to me and smashed a backhand blow across my mouth.

  My temper snapped. I shrugged off the two men pinning my arms, then smashed them both with elbows to their middles. They fell gasping. Before they hit the ground I had whipped out my dagger and, clutching the startled Menalaos by the hair, I jabbed its point to his throat.

  "O
ne move from any of you," I growled, "and your king dies."

  They all froze: the nobles, some of them with their hands already on their sword hilts; the other guards, their eyes wide, their mouths hanging open.

  "Now then, noble Menalaos," I said, loudly enough for them all to hear, even though my mouth was next to his ear, "we will discuss our differences like men, or face each other as enemies in a fair duel. I am not a thes or a slave, to be bound and tortured for your pleasure. I was a warrior of the House of Ithaca, and now I am the leader of an army of Egypt, an army that's been sent here to destroy you."

  "You lie!" Menalaos snarled, squirming in my grasp. "The Egyptians have welcomed us to their shores. They are holding my wife for me, and have invited me to sail to their capital to reclaim her."

  "The chief minister of the Egyptian king has built a lovely trap for you and all the Achaian lords who come to this land," I insisted. "And Helen is the bait."

  "More lies," said Menalaos. But I could see that I had caught the interest of the other nobles.

  I released my grip on him and threw my dagger onto the sand at his feet.

  "Let the gods show us which of us is right," I said. "Pick your best warrior and have him face me. If he kills me, then the gods will have shown that I am lying. If I best him, it will be a sign from the gods that you should listen to what I have to say."

  Murderous anger still flamed in Menalaos's eyes, but the nobles crowded around eagerly.

  "Why not?"

  "Let the gods decide!"

  "You have nothing to lose, my lord."

  Seething, Menalaos shouted, "Nothing to lose? Don't you understand that this traitor, this abductor—he's merely trying to gain a swift clean death instead of the agony he deserves?"

  "My lord Menalaos!" I shouted back. "On the plain of Ilios I begged you to intercede on behalf of the storyteller Poletes from the anger of your brother. You refused, and now the old man is blind. I'm not begging you now. I demand what you owe me: a fair fight. Not some young champion who rushes foolishly to his death. I want to fight you, mighty warrior. We can settle our differences with spears and swords."