Black Ships (14 page)

I smiled, for I felt that I had heard this story before, somewhere or other.

“They buried him at the edge of the desert with every honor, and they made songs about him. They set up a stone and carved a picture of a king with his spear through the crocodile, and they laid flowers and figs before it, praying that they might always have a king who would give his life for his people. His sons and grandsons called upon his spirit to help them when they hunted. Soon others did as well.”

“And what happened to him?” I asked.

Mikel put His head to one side. “He didn’t pass on, cross the River, as you would say. He stayed and watched over his people and listened to their invocations. As his sons grew old he whispered in their ears, and did not know if they heard or not. Sometimes it seemed they did. So he stayed. Soon all those he had known and loved had grown old and died, but there were new people, children of his children’s children who hunted along the riverbank. And it seemed to him that there were still young hunters who needed his help, and who whispered his name as they hunted birds in the reeds along the river. So he stayed, and decided he would stay as long as there were those who needed him.”

“That was long ago,” I said.

“Many lives of men,” he said. “Before ships sailed the seas or fields were plowed. When all the men there were in the world would fit into one of these great cities.”

“Why is the world ending?” I asked. “One by one the cities are falling. Like the island that was Thera is sunk in the sea.”

Mikel sighed. “It’s a thing beyond your understanding. I’m not sure I entirely understand it Myself. You see, there are these great stone plates that float on a sea of fire like icebergs on water, and sometimes they run into each other...”

“What’s an iceberg?” I asked.

Mikel blinked. “It’s a big... Never mind. It’s not because of the gods or anything like that. It’s like waves on the shore. It’s the way the world works.”

“But the gods created the world,” I said. “Didn’t they?”

“And the world created the gods,” he said. Mikel leaned forward. “In the beginning there was nothing, not even time. And then there was something. A word. A thought. And then in an instant there was everything. Brilliant light everywhere. Stars and starstuff all spinning out in the firmament. And there was Everything and Nothing.”

“Day and night?” I said.

“Evening and morning,” he said. “And time. Because now there was before and after. There was earth and water and air and sun and fire. And the waters came together and rained down on the earth and there were oceans.”

“And from Gaia and Kronos, from Earth and Time, were born the other gods,” I said.

“Exactly!” he said. “At least sort of. I think that’s probably the best I can do explaining.”

“So why are the cities falling?” I asked. “And why did You help Neas?”

“I’m not sure I can explain the first part in ways you’d understand,” he said, “but as to the second, I helped your captain because he’s a brave man and shouldn’t be taken from behind by treachery. He’s wearing My sword.”

“Because Xandros gave it to him,” I said.

“He’s the one I’ve seen before,” Mikel said. He smiled, and His face was light. “There was a young man of My people, the son of the son of My son fourteen times. He wanted to know where the river went. And so he sailed a ship of reeds along the riverbank and through the tangled channels of the delta past places where someday there would be cities, until he found the sea. He looked out on the ocean where the water goes to the horizon, and he knew how big the world was. Then fear woke in his heart and also great longing, to know everything and see every shore, to go to the ends of the earth and understand the tracks of the winds. And when he lay on the beach that night while the stars turned over his head, he wondered what they were made of, and if the darkness around them was just another ocean. I knew that if it took ten thousand lives of men, he would sail to every corner of the universe. He comes and he goes, passes over the river and back, and I help him when I can. I find him when I can. He is the son of the son of My son fourteen times, one of the sons of My heart.”

“Xandros is a good man,” I said. “I’m glad to see that he is beloved of some god.”

“Even a young one,” he said, and his mouth twitched with not quite a smile.

“Even a young one,” I said, “Mikel Who Waits Upon Baal.”

Behind me Neas stirred. “Sybil?” he said.

I turned. “Neas? How do you feel?”

He raised his head a little. “Thirsty,” he said.

I put my hand to his forehead, and it was clammy and cool. The fever had broken. “I will get you some water,” I said.

“Who was just here?” he asked. “I thought I heard you talking with someone, but I don’t see anyone here.”

“I was praying,” I said as I poured water from a jar, for it was true that the room was empty.

BYBLOS

I
awoke at dawn when Lide came in. She checked Neas’ bandages and seemed satisfied, so I went off to bed while she stayed. At midmorning I was awakened by Kos. Groggy, I half sat up, wondering if something was wrong with Tia.

“Jamarados says Neas wants you. Come on.”

I ran my fingers through my hair and stood. My head felt leaden.

Jamarados, Amynter, Anchises, and others were crowded into Neas’ room. I came in. “What’s happening?” I asked. From the fact that Neas was sitting up, it didn’t seem that he’d taken a turn for the worse.

“A messenger from Prince Hiram just arrived,” Amynter said. “He says he requires Neas’ presence in audience immediately.”

“It’s about last night,” Neas said. “It must be.”

“You can’t go,” Jamarados said. “You’re not in any shape to.”

“Prince Hiram does not have the authority to issue orders to the Prince of Wilusa,” Anchises said loudly. Everyone ignored him.

“If you don’t go,” Amynter said, “then what does Hiram do? Forget it?”

“He can’t lose face that way,” Neas said. “No prince can. No, then he sends his men to bring me by force.”

“You shouldn’t be up today at all,” Lide said from beside the bed. “If you move about too much you’ll tear that open again and bleed. And you’ve no blood left to spare.”

“What if I go in your place?” Jamarados said. “That might satisfy Hiram.”

Neas looked around the room. “Where’s Xandros?”

“He was here a little while ago,” Amynter said. “But I think he’s gone out again.”

“It will hardly satisfy Hiram for you to go,” I said to Jamarados. “Brave as your offer is. He wants Neas, and he’s going to get Neas one way or another.”

“I’ll have to go,” Neas said, pushing back his blanket.

“You can’t walk as far as the Citadel,” I said. “You’ll fall flat.”

“He doesn’t have to walk,” Jamarados said, “if Sybil comes too. Wellborn ladies travel in litters. Order a litter for her, and since he’s the highest-ranking man he can share it with her. That’s what the Egyptians do.”

I went to put on a cleaner tunic and to comb out my hair while they ordered the litter and got Neas ready. Amynter came with us, but Jamarados was ordered to stay. In case we were Prince Hiram’s guests for some time, Neas wanted someone with good judgment left in command.

T
HE CITADEL
was large and imposing, as one might expect. Prince Hiram received us in his audience chamber, a great room paneled in cedar and decorated with gilded caps on the beams. It was not painted, and the floor was plain, rather different from the chambers I was used to.

“At least he’s got only a couple of guards,” Amynter said under his breath.

Neas nodded but didn’t speak. The effort of getting from the litter at the door to the end of the hall was enough.

I agreed with Amynter. This looked more like a threat than an arrest.

Hiram was a handsome man a few years older than Neas, with a close-trimmed black beard and bright eyes framed by swooping brows. He did not rise from his chair, or offer us one. “Prince Aeneas,” he said in Achaian, and I did not know if he meant the title as respect or irony. But I did know why Jamarados was not necessary as interpreter this time.

“Prince Hiram,” Neas said, inclining his head.

“I understand that there was a brawl last night, between you Denden and the Achawoi. I believe I had warned both you and the prince of the Achawoi that I would have no feuds between you that break the peace of my city.”

Neas raised his eyebrows. “I have heard of no brawl. Some men were set upon by common footpads and defended themselves. The thieves fled. This has nothing to do with any blood feud.”

“Perhaps it is as you say.” I could see that Hiram did not believe him.

“My prince, I am not aware of any quarrels with the Achaians,” Neas said. “My men know not to break the peace of this city.”

Hiram looked at him and his eyes narrowed. “Do not think that I am ignorant of your plans. Because I am not Egypt’s pet dog and do not inform them of your works, you should not think that I support this foolishness. Byblos tolerates you pirates, not welcomes you. And we will not be part of your confederacy. When Pharaoh cuts off your foreskins for trophies and you go to a life of labor in Egypt, remember that I warned you.”

“I do not understand your words,” Neas said, but I saw that Hiram believed this no more than he had believed Neas before.

“There shall be no more brawls,” Hiram said. “I hope that is clear.”

“It is clear,” Neas said, inclining his head. And the audience was at an end.

A
MYNTER LEANED CLOSE
as he walked beside the litter on the way home. “What was that about?” he asked.

“Wait until we are within walls,” I whispered. There was still Hiram’s escort about us, and the slaves who bore the litter.

We came in through the gate, and I thought Jamarados was half faint with relief. He helped Neas into his room and brought him clean water, and we told him what had transpired.

“I do not understand his warning,” I said. “Do you know what plan he means?”

Neas shook his head. “Where in the world is Xandros? I could have used him there.”

“No doubt with his girl,” I said bitterly.

“Girl?” Jamarados looked up. “Oh, you thought...At the temple? That’s not a girl; that’s one of the temple eunuchs.”

“The what?”

“In these lands,” Jamarados said, “the priests are gelded, like bull calves. They aren’t men or women either. They serve Ashteret, like the girls do.”

“Ah,” I said blankly. I had never imagined such a thing. I supposed it might be done, though I could not see what Xandros would want in such a thing. Or perhaps I could, I thought. Perhaps I could see all too clearly.

Neas looked at me keenly and changed the subject. “Well, when he gets back, send him to me. But the thing that’s more important is what was Hiram talking about? We’re looking to escort merchant ships back to Millawanda in the spring. If there is some plot against Egypt, we have no part in it. But it makes me wonder what Neoptolemos thinks to do in Byblos.”

“I don’t know,” Jamarados said grimly, “but I think we’d better find out.”

I
N THE END
, it was Xandros who found out.

Winter deepened, and the seas were stormy. Nonetheless, new ships kept arriving in Byblos, rowing hard against the winds. The sailing season was long since over.

I stood with Neas and Jamarados on the wall one day, where we could see a tiny part of the harbor around the buildings farther down the hill. We could just make out several ships rounding the breakwater under oar.

“Lydian, Karian, Achaian, Kretan, everyone but the Egyptians,” Jamarados said. “Even some people I’ve never heard of, the Shardan, who say they live on an island three weeks’ sailing to the west of Pylos, beyond Illyria. I’ve never seen this many warships abroad in winter before.”

Xandros had come up behind us. “About the Shardan,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”

Neas didn’t ask Xandros where he’d been. We were used by now to his going abroad in the city. He was beginning to speak the language like a native, and his knowledge of local trade rivaled Jamarados’. However else he spent his time was none of our business.

“Let’s have it, then,” Neas said equitably.

“My friend has talked with a Shardan captain,” he said. “They’re from so far away almost nobody speaks their language and they don’t have any idea that we’re not friends of the Achaians.” He forestalled the obvious question. “My friend is good with languages.”
As is Xandros,
I thought.
He’s quicker of mind than he thinks he is.

“Then what are the Shardan doing here?” Jamarados asked. “They don’t usually trade in Byblos.”

“They were invited to join in an expedition that would make them all rich, to have a share in sacking cities if they would come and bring their warships.”

“Whose cities?” Neas asked.

“Who isn’t here?” I said. “Egypt, of course. Who else has wealth enough to make it worthwhile?”

“Egypt,” said Jamarados. “That makes sense.”

“It does,” said Neas. “That’s what Hiram meant. He thinks we’re part of this plan too.”

Jamarados whistled. “I wonder if they can carry it off. There must be nearly two hundred ships here. And if they don’t sail until spring, more can come in then. There’s a lot more gold there than convoying merchant ships back to Millawanda.”

“And a lot more danger,” I pointed out. “From everything I’ve heard, Egypt is powerful beyond imagining.”

“Not more so than the Hittites,” Jamarados pointed out. “We were their allies, and they were mighty friends.”

“Not mighty enough to keep the city from being burned,” Neas said. “They were mighty in my grandfather’s day, but not so much anymore.” He turned to Xandros. “Do you think that your friend can arrange for you to drink with the Shardan captain and find out what you can? What cities? When? How do they plan to deal with fortifications?”

“And what about the Egyptian fleet?” Jamarados asked. “True, they’re not seamen like the Kretans, but they do have a fleet, and I’d not laugh at it.”

“I can do that,” Xandros said. He didn’t look happy.

I
T WAS A WEEK LATER
, well after the turning of the sun, that Xandros came in late and woke the three of us. He smelled of stale wine and cheap incense, but he was stone sober. I rolled out of bed and went to hear what had happened.

“The plan is this,” Xandros said. “They’re sailing as soon as the season opens, and they’re going south along the coast. They’re going to sack Ashkelon and the Egyptian garrison there, and then fall on the cities of the Delta after the harvest is gathered in. They think that when the Egyptians hear that Ashkelon has fallen, their fleet will put to sea and go to its aid, and that Pharaoh will send his army north through Gaza, leaving the Delta clear of troops as far as Memphis.”

Jamarados let out a long breath. “That’s ambitious.”

“And tactically sound,” Neas said. “Whose plan is this?”

“Guess,” Xandros said.

“Neoptolemos,” I said. “This is the same trick.”

Neas nodded. “The same trick that lured us away from Wilusa. He’s a good captain, I’ll give him that.”

I felt Her cold hand on my back. More cities burned, more lands destroyed. Where would this end?

“He wants to be Great King,” I said, and hardly knew that I said it. “Orestes son of Agamemnon is dead, and all of his house. The son of Achilles wants to be king over the Achaians.”

“What is that to us?” Jamarados said. “Who cares who is king of the Achaians?”

“He is cursed with the blood shed at Aulis,” I said. “He and all his kin lie under that dark curse. The Furies pursue them and all who sail with them.”

Xandros looked up, startled. “We’re considering sailing with them?”

Jamarados nodded. “It’s a possibility. We’re either with them or against them, and with two hundred ships I don’t think we’re against them. And there is gold in Egypt. We should think on this.”

Xandros was pale. “I will not sail with the men who murdered my children for sport,” he said, and walked away.

Neas looked after him. I waited.

At last Neas shook his head. “We will not sail with Neoptolemos,” he said. “There is blood between us that cries out for vengeance, and there is not enough gold in Egypt to satisfy it.”

“This is our chance of peace between us,” Jamarados said. “I’m just pointing that out.”

I remembered that face in torchlight, urging the Young King of Pylos to sail against Wilusa, his smile and his shadowed eyes. “Neoptolemos is treacherous,” I said. “He tried to murder Neas in a dark street. There can be no peace between us. He has everything to lose from such a peace, and nothing to gain.”

“We have much to lose as well,” Neas said. “All this winter I have restrained any man who wanted to collect his blood debt from the Achaians because the People could not afford it. We are few and without a homeland, vagabonds and wanderers on the sea. We are little more than the pirates Hiram named us.”

“Yet we are more,” I said. “We are women and children as well.”

“And it is for their sake that I have restrained any who talk of honor,” Neas said, looking at me. “It is for their sake that I have restrained myself.” His lips tightened, and I knew that it was so.

“My prince,” I said, “that is courage greater than any other.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you think so. But there are more who will call me coward that I haven’t met Neoptolemos face-to-face. If we go tamely back to Millawanda, there are many who will.”

“I am telling you,” Jamarados said, “we will not be allowed to go tamely back to Millawanda or anywhere else. Do you think that when the sailing season begins they will let any ship leave this port that might warn Pharaoh? Do you think that in their hundreds they will not fall on us and kill our men, taking our ships to be part of their expedition? If we are not with them, we will be against them. Neoptolemos is not fool enough to leave us free in his rear.”