tall woman he had seen while Odysseus performed. The way she stood – elegance and confidence sublimely in harmony; the way her eyes met his, defiant and challenging. Even her expression as she saw the man attack him had not shown fear. Her eyes had narrowed, her face becoming stern. Helikaon’s heart beat faster as he conjured her face in his mind. Beside him Zidantas trudged on in silence, his huge, nail-studded club resting on his shoulder. Argurios and Glaukos were a little way back.
The walk was perilous at night, despite the many lamps lit, and left in crevices in the rock wall. The drop was sheer to the left, the path rocky and pitted.
Helikaon gazed out over the bay below, his heart swelling as he looked down upon the sleek lines of the Xanthos. From here he could also see the distant, now tiny form of Odysseus. His mentor had walked to the water’s edge and was digging away at the sand with his dagger. Helikaon knew what he was doing. He had seen it often during the two years he had spent on the Penelope. Odysseus was shaping the face of his wife in the sand.
Behind him Helikaon heard Glaukos mutter an oath as he tripped over a rock.
The Mykene warriors had seemed surprised when he had invited them to meet the king. The courtesy had evidently been unexpected and Argurios had almost thanked him. Helikaon smiled as he recalled the moment. The Mykene’s tongue would have turned black, he thought, if forced to utter a pleasantry.
Argurios moved alongside him, moonlight gleaming on the elaborately embossed bronze discs of his cuirass. ‘This king is a friend of yours?’ he asked.
‘All reasonable men are my friends, Argurios.’
Argurios’ expression hardened. ‘Do not bait me. It would not be wise.’
‘Why would I bait you?’ answered Helikaon coldly. ‘All reasonable men are my friends, for I seek no enemies. I am a trader, not a plunderer.’
Argurios looked at him closely. ‘You are a man who has earned the hatred of all Mykene. You should understand there will be great joy when your death is announced.’
‘I don’t doubt that,’ replied Helikaon, pausing in his stride and turning towards the warrior. ‘There is great joy in Mykene when anyone suffers or is dispossessed. You are a people who thrive on murder and the sorrow of others.’
Argurios’ hand grasped the hilt of his sword. For a moment Helikaon believed he was about to challenge him. Then Argurios spoke, his voice shaking with suppressed anger. ‘The Law of the Road forbids me to rise to that insult. Repeat it on the beach and I will kill you.’ With that he strode off, Glaukos running to catch up with him. Zidantas moved alongside Helikaon and sighed.
‘What merry company you have chosen for us,’ he said.
‘I didn’t choose them, Ox. Odysseus suggested we bring them.’
‘Why?’
‘Perhaps because somewhere ahead on the road will be Mykene killers seeking my blood.’
‘Oh that makes wonderful sense,’ muttered Zidantas. ‘We are facing murderers so Odysseus gets us to bring them reinforcements. Let’s just go back to the beach.
We can return with more men.’
‘You know, Ox, in some ways you are just like the Mykene. You take no interest in other cultures. No, we are not going back to the beach. We will walk on – and see what transpires.’
‘This is not a good place for a fight,’ Zidantas pointed out. ‘One wrong step and a man would be pitched over the side. It is a long way down.’
Helikaon did not answer. Increasing his pace, he kept close to the Mykene. Up ahead the path twisted to the left. Steps had been cut into the stone. At the top, Helikaon knew, the road widened. There were several caves there where armed men could hide.
‘Soon?’ whispered Zidantas.
‘At the top of these steps, I would think. Do not attack them, Ox. Wait and see what happens first.’
Keeping close behind the two warriors they climbed the steps. Up ahead Argurios reached the top and suddenly paused. Helikaon came alongside him. Standing before them were six warriors, all clad in leather breastplates and carrying short swords. They did not rush in, and seemed confused and uncertain. One of them looked at Argurios. ‘Step aside, brother, for our business is not with you.’
‘I would do that gladly, idiot!’ snapped Argurios. ‘But you know the Law of the Road. If a man walks in company with other travellers then he is obliged to face dangers alongside them.’
‘That is a Mykene law for Mykene travellers,’ argued the man.
‘I am in the company of Helikaon,’ said Argurios. ‘Now I loathe him as much as you do, but attack him and I will, by the law, be obliged to fight alongside him. You know me, and you know my skills. All of you will die.’
‘We have no choice,’ said the man. ‘It is a matter of honour.’
Argurios’ sword rasped from its scabbard. ‘Then die as a man of honour,’ he said.
‘Wait!’ said Helikaon, stepping forward. ‘I wish for no blood to be shed here, but if a fight is necessary, then let us settle it with single combat.’ He pointed at the warrior standing before Argurios. ‘You and I, Mykene. Or any of your comrades you care to choose.’
‘I will fight you, Vile One!’ said the man.
Helikaon drew his sword.
Raising his blade, the warrior attacked. Helikaon stepped in, blocking a thrust, and hammered his shoulder into the warrior’s chest, hurling him back. The Mykene charged again, his sword hacking and slashing. Helikaon blocked and countered with ease. The man was not skilled with a blade, and tried to compensate by sheer ferocity. Helikaon waited for the right moment, then blocked a wild cut and grabbed the man’s sword wrist. Curling his leg behind the knee of his opponent he threw him from his feet. The man landed heavily on his back.
Helikaon’s sword touched the fallen man’s throat. ‘Is it over?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ answered the man, hatred in his eyes. Helikaon stepped back and turned towards the others.
‘You heard him,’ he said, sheathing his sword. ‘It is over.’
A movement from his left caused him to turn sharply. The man he had spared had risen silently to his feet and was rushing at him, sword raised. There was no time to draw his own blade. Then Argurios leapt between them, his sword slashing through the attacker’s neck. The man fell back with a gargling cry, blood spraying from his open jugular. As the dying warrior’s body spasmed Helikaon turned to the five remaining men. ‘Return to your ship,’ he ordered them. ‘There is only death here for you, with no hope of victory.’
They stood very still, and Helikaon saw they were preparing themselves to attack. Then Argurios spoke.
‘Sheathe your swords! It would weigh heavily on my heart if I were forced to kill another Mykene. And carry this treacherous creature with you,’ he said, pointing to the corpse. Helikaon saw the men relax. They scabbarded their blades and shuffled forward, lifted the dead man, and made their way back to the steps.
Argurios, coldly furious now, marched to confront Helikaon. ‘Did you know they would be here? Is that why you invited me, Trojan?’
‘Firstly, Argurios, I am a Dardanian. As an ambassador to this side of the Great Green it might be worthwhile for you to understand that not all who dwell in these lands are Trojans. There are Maeonians, Lykians, Karians and Thrakians. And many more. Secondly, is it likely that I would have walked this path with two Mykene warriors had I known there were six more waiting to kill me?’ Argurios let out a long sigh. ‘No, you would not,’ he admitted. He looked into Helikaon’s eyes. ‘You have been blessed with luck twice tonight. Such good fortune cannot last.’
ii
The contradiction that was Kygones the Fat King sat on a high-backed chair, his skeletal frame clad in a simple, unadorned tunic. He was picking at his meal, his wary eyes scanning his guests. The two Gyppto ambassadors had hardly touched the food, and were locked in conversation, their voices low. The merchant from Maeonia was eating enough for three, shovelling the food into his cavernous mouth as if he hadn’t eaten for weeks, gravy from the meat staining his several chins. The Dardanian prince, Helikaon, was sitting silently beside the fork- bearded Zidantas, and the two Mykene warriors with them had helped themselves to cuts of beef, ignoring the finer
