Part 10 (1/2)

Finally the fire burned out, and cool fresh air blew into the cave. Tears streaming from his eyes, he crawled out into the night and collapsed on the wet earth of the entrance. Ka.s.sandra was sitting there, slim and straight, a garland of olive leaves around her head.

”And now you begin to see,” she said softly. It was not a question.

Gershom rolled to his back and stared up at the stars. His head began to clear. ”You put opiates in the flames.”

”Yes. To help open your eyes.” His head was aching now, and he sat up and groaned. ”Drink this,” she said, pa.s.sing him a water skin. ”It will clear your head.”

Pulling the stopper free, he lifted the skin and drank greedily. His mouth felt as dry as the desert he had observed. ”What was it I saw?” he asked her.

She shrugged. ”They are your visions. I do not know what you saw.”

”At the last I saw a mountain explode and destroy the sun.”

”Ah,” she said, ”then I am wrong, for I do do know that vision. It will not destroy the sun, merely block out its light. It is a true vision, Gershom.” know that vision. It will not destroy the sun, merely block out its light. It is a true vision, Gershom.”

Gershom drank more water. ”My head is still full of mist,” he said. ”Upon the fire mountain there was a great temple in the shape of a horse.”

”Yes, it is the temple on Thera,” she answered.

Gershom leaned forward. ”Then you must not go there. Nothing living could survive what I saw.”

”I know,” she said, pulling the crown of leaves from her head and shaking twigs from her long dark hair. ”I will die on Thera. I have known this since I was old enough to know anything.”

He looked at her then, and his heart was full of grief. She looked so fragile and alone, her eyes haunted, her expression sad. Gershom reached out to draw her into a hug, but she moved back from him. ”I am not frightened by death, Gershom. And all my fears will end on the Beautiful Isle.”

”It did not look beautiful to me,” he said.

”It has had many shapes and many names through the Ages of Man. It will have more yet, all of them beautiful.” She sighed. ”But this night is not about my life and death. It is about you, Man of Stone. Your days upon the sea are almost done. You made a vow, and soon you will be required to honor it.”

As she spoke, Gershom's thoughts flew back to the time Helikaon had been close to death. With the surgeons and healers of Troy powerless to save him Gershom had sought out a mysterious holy man, a desert dweller known as the Prophet. Even now he recalled with absolute clarity the first meeting and the words spoken there. The white-bearded Prophet had agreed to heal Helikaon, but for a price, and not one to be paid with gold or silver.

”I will one day call for you,” he told Gershom that night, ”and you will come to me wherever I am. You will then do as I bid for one year.”

”I will become your slave?”

The Prophet's answer was softly spoken, and Gershom remembered the subtle note of contempt in it. ”Is the price too high, Prince Ahmose?”

Gershom wanted to refuse. Pride demanded it. He wanted to shout that yes, the price was too high. He was a prince of Egypte and no man's slave. Yet he did not speak. He sat quietly, scarcely able to breathe through his tension. Helikaon was his friend and had saved his life. No matter the cost, he had to repay that debt.

”I agree,” he said at last.

Now, in the moonlight, he looked at Ka.s.sandra. ”He will call for me soon?”

”Yes. You will not see Troy again, Gershom.”

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE CRIMSON DEMON.

Kleitos the Mykene amba.s.sador sat quietly nursing a cup of wine. The atmosphere in Alkaios' megaron megaron was subdued, the fifty or more guests eating and drinking in near silence. There was tension in the room, and Kleitos watched as people furtively glanced at Persion and Helikaon, who were sitting at opposite ends of the king's table. was subdued, the fifty or more guests eating and drinking in near silence. There was tension in the room, and Kleitos watched as people furtively glanced at Persion and Helikaon, who were sitting at opposite ends of the king's table.

For Kleitos this night was an answer to a prayer, a gift from the G.o.ds to a man who obediently served them. His life had been singularly blessed. Above all he had been born into a land and a people loved by the G.o.ds. The Mykene were the greatest race of the Great Green, more n.o.ble, more heroic than any other. Agamemnon King epitomized that greatness. He had seen before all others the danger Troy represented to all the nations. He had recognized in Priam a despot determined to subdue all free peoples to his will. While others had been bribed or seduced by the wily Trojan king, Agamemnon had not been fooled. Because of his wisdom the vileness of Troy would be cut away, its walls torn down, its people enslaved.

This night, as a foreshadowing of that great day, one of the worst enemies of the Mykene, a man of true evil, was to be struck down by the righteous strength of a Mykene warrior. It would be a night of justice, a night for the G.o.ds to rejoice.

The heavily pregnant woman on his left leaned across him, trying to reach a platter of fruit. Her arm brushed his, spilling a little of his wine.

”My apologies, Lord Kleitos,” she said. Kleitos wanted to slap her. Instead he smiled, reached for the platter, and placed it before her.

”None are needed, Arianna Queen,” he told her, instantly turning his head away in the hope the fat sow would understand that he had no wish to converse with her. But the woman, like most of her kind, was uncomprehending and could not take a simple hint. She insisted on talking to him, continuing the conversation they had started earlier.

”But I do not understand, Amba.s.sador,” she said. ”You say Priam was planning to plunge the world into war.”

”Yes. To make himself master of the world.”

”Why?”

He stared at her. ”Why? Because...he is evil and a tyrant.”

”I meant, what would he gain gain from sending armies to attack his neighbors? He is already the richest king. Armies are costly. Each area, once subdued, would need to be patrolled, and forts built. Endless armies roaming the lands would drain even Troy's great wealth.” from sending armies to attack his neighbors? He is already the richest king. Armies are costly. Each area, once subdued, would need to be patrolled, and forts built. Endless armies roaming the lands would drain even Troy's great wealth.”

”What would he gain?” he repeated, trying to give himself time to think. ”He would be seen as a conqueror and a great warrior king. He would have fame and glory.”

”And this would be important to him?”

”Of course it would be important. All true true men desire fame and glory.” men desire fame and glory.”

”Ah,” she said. ”I am confused again now. Is he a true man, then, or an evil tyrant? Or somehow both?”

”He is evil, as I have said.”

”So the evil also desire fame and glory. How, then, do we tell them apart?”

”It is not always easy,” he replied, ”especially for women. One must rely on the wisdom of great kings like Agamemnon.”

”I have heard of his greatness,” said the queen. ”My husband talks of his conquests, of the numbers of cities he has overcome, the slaves and the plunder he has gathered. From Sparta in the south all the way north to Thraki. I am not good with numbers. Is it fourteen kings and princes he has slain or sixteen?”

”I have not kept count,” Kleitos told her. ”It is true, though, that Agamemnon King is a warrior without peer.”

”A man of fame and glory,” she said.

”Indeed so.”

She leaned in then. ”Ah, yes, I think I have a grasp of it now. Priam fooled us all, disguising his plans for domination with forty years of peace. Such cunning approaches genius, don't you think?”

Arianna smiled sweetly, then turned away to speak to other guests. Kleitos stared malevolently at her. One day, he promised himself, she will pay for such disrespect. Just as her husband would suffer for his sly, mocking tone.