delicacies on display: the honey-dipped sweetmeats, the peppered sheep’s eyes, the seared kidneys, marinated first in wine.
Helikaon also ate sparingly, and seemed lost in thought.
The king cast his weary gaze over the other guests, most of them merchants from outlying lands, bringing gifts of silk, or glass, or – more important – objects of gold and silver.
Kygones scratched at his pockmarked face and eased himself back against the chair, wishing the time to pass. A servant moved alongside him, filling his goblet with clear water. The king glanced at the man, and nodded his thanks. There was a time when Kygones would have sold his soul for the chance to be a palace servant; to be sure of at least one meal a day and to sleep under a roof, away from wind and rain.
The interminable banquet finally came to a close. Servants carried away the dishes and replenished the wine cups, and Kygones clapped his hands for the entertainment to begin. Female dancers from Kretos moved across the mosaic floor of the megaron, swaying rhythmically to the music from several lyres, their bodies slim and lithe, their naked breasts firm. Oil glistened on their skin. The dance grew wilder, the women twirling and leaping. The guests banged the table in time to the music. Kygones closed his eyes, his mind drifting back through the years. His father had assured him that hard work and dedicated service would lead to happiness for any peasant. Like most youngsters he had believed his father, and had toiled on the small farm from dawn to dusk every day. He had seen his mother age before his eyes, watched two brothers die, seen his three older sisters sold into servitude, and finally witnessed his father being murdered by Gypptos during the third invasion. That was when Kygones discovered the real secret of success.
It lay not in scratching at the land with sharpened sticks, but in grasping a sword in a strong hand.
The music faded, the women moving gracefully away. Acrobats replaced them, and jugglers, and finally a bard from Ugarit, who told a tale of magical beasts and heroes. It was a dull tale, and Kygones found himself wishing he had invited Odysseus to the feast.
The two Gypptos rose as the bard was still speaking, bowed low to Kygones and left the megaron. The bard’s voice faded away as the men walked past him, and Kygones saw that the display of bad manners had unnerved the man. Lifting his hand he urged the storyteller to continue, his own thoughts meanwhile straying to his departing guests.
The Gypptos were an odd pair. They had arrived with gifts: a gold-inlaid ivory wrist band and a jewel- encrusted dagger. And though they spoke of trade and shipments of spices, they were not merchants. Kygones had waited to hear the real reason for their visit, and had suppressed a smile when the older one finally said, ‘There is one small matter, King Kygones, that my master instructed me to make known to you.’ He had spoken then of a criminal who had escaped justice in Egypte, following the slaying of two Royal Guardsmen. There followed a description of the man, tall, wide-shouldered, dark-bearded. ‘He has no skills, save that he is a fighting man, and so may seek to join your army. My master, realizing that to apprehend him would put you at some inconvenience, has instructed me to say that there is a reward offered for his capture. Five gold ingots.’
‘A big man, you say?’
‘Indeed.’
‘I shall instruct my captains to look out for him. He has a name?’
‘He would not use it. We located a ship’s captain who sailed to Kypros with someone of his description. This man called himself Gershom.’
‘Then perhaps you should be seeking him in Kypros.’
‘Indeed we are, and in every other land.’
The bard concluded his tale, which was greeted by polite, if unenthusiastic, cheers. He bowed to the assembly and, red-faced, left the megaron.
Kygones rose from his chair, thanked his guests for honouring him with their company, signalled to Helikaon and the Mykene to follow him, and walked back through the palace to his private apartments. There he wandered onto a high balcony and stared out over the dark sea. The night breeze was cool and refreshing.
‘You seem a little weary, my friend,’ said Helikaon. Kygones swung to greet him.
‘Battles are less tiring than feasts,’ he said. He looked at the two Mykene behind the Golden One. The first was lean, fierce-eyed and battle-hardened. The second was younger, and there was weakness in his eyes. He listened as Helikaon introduced them, then bade them sit. The room was large, with several couches, and two open balconies allowing the night breeze to dissipate the fumes from the lamps on the walls. ‘I have heard of you, Argurios,’ he said, as his guests settled themselves. ‘You held a bridge during the war with the Myrmidons.
Seventeen men you killed that day.’
He noted with satisfaction the surprise on the man’s face. ‘I had not thought the story would have travelled so far,’ said Argurios. ‘And it was only nine.
The others were merely wounded and removed from the fighting.’
‘Tales of heroes are often exaggerated,’ said Kygones. ‘You are a close companion, I understand, of King Agamemnon.’
‘I have the honour to be a Follower.’
‘You are the second Follower to grace my beach. The lord Kolanos is here also.
You are friends?’
‘Most friendships are forged in battle. I have never fought alongside him,’
replied Argurios.
‘I am told he is now considered the first of Agamemnon’s Followers, and that the king places great trust in him.’
‘All the Followers are trusted,’ said Argurios. ‘They gain their positions through their loyalty to the king, and their services to the land.’
Kygones nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said. You do not like him, warrior, he thought. Is it jealousy, or something else? The king sat down on a couch, beckoning his guests to seat themselves. Argurios and Helikaon moved to couches set against the walls, while Glaukos sat with his back to the door.
‘Two of Kolanos’ crew died tonight, one on the beach, and one on the path to my palace,’ said the king.
Argurios remained silent. Kygones turned his attention to Helikaon. ‘I have reprimanded the captain of the guard. He did not allocate enough men to patrol the beach. And now I have a small favour to ask of you, Helikaon, my friend. The intended bride of Hektor has been waiting here for almost ten days. I would dearly like to see her on a ship to Troy.’
Helikaon looked surprised. ‘I thought she was already there.’
‘Well, she is here,’ said Kygones, ‘and I pity Hektor. The time she has spent with me has felt like a season. By the gods she has a tongue on her that could cut through stone. I am amazed that Priam should have sought such a harridan for his eldest son. You’d have to be drunk or drugged before you climbed aboard that mare. Can you take her off my hands?’
‘Of course, my friend. Though I had heard the girl was charming and shy.’
‘Paleste might have been. But she died. Now Hektor has been offered the sister, Andromache. The words charming and shy do not apply.’ Kygones chuckled. ‘She was a priestess on Thera. I have heard stories about those women. They are not lovers of men, that’s for sure.’
‘We have all heard stories about those women,’ said young Glaukos harshly. ‘If true they should be sealed alive in weighted boxes and hurled into the sea.’
Kygones masked his surprise at the man’s vehemence. ‘An interesting thought,’ he said, after a while. ‘Tell me, should the same punishment be meted out to men who seek their pleasures among other men?’
‘I was not talking about men,’ said Glaukos. ‘It is a good woman’s duty to receive sexual pleasure from her husband and no other.’
Kygones shrugged and said nothing. The man was an idiot. He returned his attention to Helikaon. ‘That is a fine sword you are wearing.’
Helikaon drew the blade, reversed it, and offered it to Kygones. There were no embellishments on the reinforced hilt, but the blade was beautifully fashioned, the balance perfection. Hefting it, Kygones stepped back, then slashed it through the air twice. ‘Magnificent. One of the best I have held,’ he said. He tested the edge, then
