Lord of the Silver Bow (42 page)

“Kolanos shot him with an arrow.”

“Damn! No way for a great man to go down.”

“May Zeus hear that and curse Kolanos for it,” Kalliades replied in a low voice. “Maybe Argurios will wait for us on the dark road and we’ll journey together.”

“I’d like that,” said Banokles.

The voice of Kolanos called out: “Priam King, may we speak under a truce?”

The king stepped back from his son and stared hard at the general. Then he gestured for him to come forward. Kolanos eased himself through the front rank and walked through the Trojan line.

“If he can talk us out of this, I’ll kiss the man,” said Banokles.

“Your lips would turn black,” muttered Kalliades.

XXXVI

THE KING’S WISDOM

Helikaon watched the hated Mykene walk from the shield wall. His hand gripped his sword hilt more tightly, and he fought to control the rage swelling within him. This man had tortured Zidantas, had murdered young Diomedes, and now had killed Argurios. Every instinct in Helikaon urged him to step out and slash his head from his shoulders.

Yet he had asked for a truce, and it had been granted. Honor demanded that he be allowed to speak. After that I will kill you, thought Helikaon.

Kolanos approached the king and offered a bow. “Your men have fought well, Priam King,” he said.

“You have no time for idle chatter,” replied the king. “Speak—and then return to your men and prepare to die.”

“I will speak. A wise man knows when his luck is played out,” Kolanos answered, keeping his voice low. “We can no longer win. The Fates were against us. We can, on the other hand, kill perhaps another hundred of you. I can prevent that. I can also offer my services to Troy, Priam King.”

Priam stood silently, observing the Mykene. “How can you prevent your men from fighting?” he asked at last. “They know they are doomed.”

“I can tell them you have agreed to let them go if they surrender their weapons. Once disarmed, you can kill them at little cost to yourself.”

“A noble act,” Priam said with a sneer.

“They are, as you say, doomed anyway. At least this way no more Trojans will die.”

“And you will live.”

“Indeed. I can be of great use to you. I know all of Agamemnon’s plans for these eastern lands. I know where he intends to strike and what kings he has won over to his cause. I know the names of all of Prince Agathon’s allies in Troy: who he was to promote and who he was to draw into his inner circle.”

“Valuable information, indeed,” said Priam.

“Do I have your word that my life will be spared?”

“You have my guarantee that not a single Trojan will raise a weapon against you.”

“How about Dardanians?” asked Kolanos, flicking a glance at Helikaon.

“No one who fights for me will harm you,” Priam promised.

“No!” said Helikaon. “I will not be bound by this promise. The man is a snake and deserves death.”

“In my palace you will obey me, Aeneas,” snapped Priam. “Your feud with Kolanos can wait. I’ll not lose a hundred more brave men for the sake of your vengeance. Do I have your word on this—or do I need to have you restrained?”

Helikaon looked into Kolanos’ pale eyes and saw him grin. It was too much to bear. His sword came up. Priam stepped between them. Two Eagles grabbed Helikaon’s arms.

Priam moved in close. “You have fought well for me, Aeneas, and I am grateful. Do not allow your rage to ruin everything. Look around you. There are young soldiers here who could be dead or crippled in the next few moments. These young men have wives and families or sweethearts or babes. They do not need to die to feed your revenge.”

Helikaon relaxed. “In your palace tonight I will not kill him. That is all I will promise.”

“That is good enough,” said Priam. “Release him.” Helikaon sheathed his sword. Turning back to the Mykene, Priam said, “Very well, Kolanos. Have your men surrender their weapons.”

Kolanos bowed and returned to his men. There was some discord when he told them they were to be disarmed. Helikaon saw a young man with a wound to his face urging the soldiers to refuse the order. Kolanos calmly assured them that the weapons would be returned to them at the beach, before they boarded their ships. Helikaon could see that many of the warriors did not like this turn of events. Their faces showed their indecision. These were fighting men who did not give up their weapons lightly. Yet here was their general, praising their bravery and offering them life. It seemed too good an offer to refuse.

Trojan soldiers moved in among the Mykene, removing shields, spears, swords, and helmets. Finally even the breastplates were unbuckled, and all the weapons laid at the center of the
megaron
in a huge pile. Stripped of their armor, the Mykene were no longer terrifying, merely a group of young men awaiting their fate. Kolanos returned to stand alongside Priam.

The king called out an order, and the Trojans surrounding the Mykene leveled their lances. Realization hit the Mykene then. There was to be no release, and now, disarmed, they were to be slaughtered. Then Priam stepped forward.

“Men of Mykene,” he said coldly, “I am Priam King of Troy, and I hate you all with a depth of loathing you could not begin to imagine. My daughter Laodike lies dead in the queen’s apartments. Many of my friends and loyal counselors walked the dark road tonight. Now your general has sold you to die, defenseless like sheep. To gain his own freedom he has betrayed you all.” Priam swung to Kolanos. “You have any last words for your men?”

Kolanos shook his head.

Priam gazed at the grim, defiant faces of the Mykene. “Now understand me. I would rejoice to see your bodies slashed, your throats open, your blood spurting. It would gladden my heart to hear your screams. Instead I am going to allow you to walk to your ships. I will return your weapons, and you will live.”

Helikaon saw the shock on their faces. “Aye, you heard me right,” continued Priam, anger causing his voice to tremble. “I will tell you why you are spared. A great man died here tonight, and as he was dying, I asked him if there was anything I could do for him or his family. He said that he had no family but that if he had the strength he would walk down to this
megaron
and rescue
you.
For
you
were his comrades. Yes, you know of whom I speak. Argurios wanted you to live. Now, make no mistake. I want you to die. The king of Troy wants you to die. But this is the night of Argurios. On this night he is greater than kings. So you live.”

A silence fell, and Priam turned and pointed at Kolanos. “Bind him!” he ordered. Soldiers leapt on the Mykene general, pinning his arms behind him.

“I had your promise!” shouted Kolanos.

“Yes, you did, and I will keep it. Not a Trojan will lay a hand on you. You betrayed these brave men, and you offered to betray your king. Yes, Kolanos, I would love to know the plans of Agamemnon. However, as I said, this is the night of Argurios. I think he would like
you
to travel back with your men. Perhaps they will keep you alive to explain yourself to your king. Perhaps not.” Priam strode through the Trojan lines until he stood directly before the Mykene. “Who commands now?” he asked.

“I do,” said a dark-haired young man with keen gray eyes. Upon his face was a jagged cut, stitched but still leaking blood. “I am Kalliades.”

“I shall send for physicians to tend your men. They will meet you at the beach. My soldiers will escort you there now and carry any of your wounded.”

“We can carry our own wounded, Priam King.”

“So be it. Your weapons will be returned to you at your ships. We will bury your dead, and they will be given honor.”

“Argurios was my comrade,” said Kalliades. “He gave me this cut to my face, and I will treasure the scar.”

“And Kolanos?”

“You want him taken to Agamemnon, Priam King?”

“No. I would like to stand at my tower as your ships depart and hear his screams echo across the Great Green. I would like to think that his suffering will be long, his pain excruciating, and his death assured.”

“You have my oath on that, Priam King.”

Priam turned away and walked back to where Helikaon stood. “Will your vengeance be satisfied now, Aeneas?”

Helikaon glanced over at Kolanos. The man was terrified.

“It is satisfied. That was an act of greatness. Argurios would have been proud of it.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Surrounded by Trojan soldiers, the Mykene began to shuffle from the
megaron.
Helikaon walked to where Hektor stood. The golden-haired warrior gave a broad smile, opened his arms, and drew Helikaon into a crushing embrace.

“This time I really thought they’d killed you,” said Helikaon.

“Have you no faith, boy? You think a few Gypptos could finish me off? And how could I not come back when Father has taken such pains to find me a bride?” Hektor glanced up at the gallery. “Is that her? By the gods, I hope it is.”

Helikaon gazed up at Andromache. She was standing there in her torn white chiton, her bow in her hand, her flame-colored hair hanging free.

“Yes,” he said, his heart breaking, “that is Andromache.”

Then he turned away and walked from the palace.

He followed the Trojan soldiers as they led the fifty Mykene to the beach and the waiting ships. Weary now in both body and soul, he sat down on an upturned rowing boat and watched as surgeons and healers moved among the wounded. Kolanos, his arms bound, was sitting alone on the beach, staring out to sea.

The light of predawn began to glow in the east.

Several carts trundled down to the beach, bearing the armor and weapons of the Mykene.

It all seemed a dream now to Helikaon: the bloodshed and the horror, the battle in the
megaron.
It was hard to believe in this quiet dawn that men had died and that the fate of a kingdom had hung in the balance. And yet, despite all the drama and violence, it was not thoughts of battle that hung on his soul. All he could see was Andromache and Hektor. He was more than happy that his friend was alive. At any other time, though, he would have been exultant. Emotions warred within him. The return of Hektor had robbed him of the one joy he had fought for.

Anger touched him then. “I will not let this happen,” he said aloud, and pictured himself returning to the palace for Andromache. He could see Priam and offer him anything to release Andromache to him. Reality blew across his thoughts like a chill wind. Priam would not release her. He had announced her to the Trojan multitudes. She was the price of a treaty with the king of Thebe Under Plakos.

Then I will steal her, he decided. We will sail across the Great Green and make a life far from Troy.

And in doing so you will shame Hektor, cause strife and possible ruin in Dardania, and live your life in constant fear of reprisal and death.

Is this love? he asked himself. Is this the kind of life you would visit upon Andromache? To become a runaway, exiled from her family, an oath breaker, loathed and reviled? Helikaon felt as if all his strength had been leached from him.

As the sky brightened, the air filled with the sounds of seabirds, swooping and diving over the bay, their calls sharp and hungry and full of life.

On the beach behind him the Mykene began to climb aboard their galleys. Injured men were lifted to the decks, and then the weapons were hauled up in fishing nets. Helikaon saw the bound Kolanos propelled roughly toward a vessel. He fell to his knees. A Mykene warrior kicked him, then dragged him to his feet.

With the dawn breaking, the galleys were hauled out into the water, the last of the crew scrambling aboard. Helikaon watched as the masts were hoisted and the oars run out. The Trojan soldiers marched back along the beach and then up the long hill to the city gates.

As the galleys sailed off into the west, a piercing shriek came echoing across the water. Then a scream of agony. And another. The awful sounds continued, growing more faint as the galleys rowed toward the headland.

Helikaon heard soft footfalls and swung to see Andromache walking toward him, a long green cloak around her shoulders. Rising from the upturned boat, he opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace. He kissed her brow.

“I love you, Andromache. Nothing will ever change that.”

“I know. Our lives were never our own.”

He lifted her hand and kissed the palm. “I am glad you came. I did not have the strength to seek you out in the palace. I would have committed some madness and damned us all.”

“I don’t think you would have,” she said softly. “Laodike told me you love Hektor like a brother. You could do nothing to bring him shame. I know you, Helikaon, and you should know me. I would never bring disgrace upon my family. We were both raised to duty above all else.”

“Such duty is a curse!” he said, anger flaring once more. “There is nothing on earth I want more than to sail away with you, to live together, to
be
together.”

He looked up at the sky. The rising sun had streaked the clouds above with crimson and gold, but over the sea to the west the sky was brilliantly blue and clear.

“I must go,” said Andromache.

“A little while longer,” he urged her, taking her hand.

“No,” she said sadly. “With every moment my resolve is weakening.” Drawing back her hand, she said, “May the gods grant you great happiness, my love.”

“In letting me know you they already have. More than I have deserved.”

“Will you come back for my wedding in the spring?”

“Would you want me there?”

Tears fell then, and he saw her struggle to retain her composure. “I will always want you close to me, Helikaon.”

“Then I will be there.”

Andromache turned away and stared out to sea. “Laodike and Argurios died hand in hand. You think they are together now? Forever?”

“I hope so with all my heart.”

Gathering her cloak around her, she looked into his eyes. “Farewell, then, King Aeneas,” she said, and walked away.

“Goodbye, goddess,” he whispered. She heard him, and he saw her pause. Then she continued on without turning. He stood watching her until she reached the high gate.

She did not look back.