fifty men were cut off in a blind ravine, with thousands of soldiers bearing down upon them.’
‘You think he is dead?’
‘I hope not. I pray not! Hektor is my greatest friend, as well as my half-brother. But it is more than that. Hektor is the heart of Troy. If he falls there will be chaos. Can you imagine it? Brother princes vying for supremacy? We would be racked by civil war.’
‘I do not see why,’ said Andromache. ‘Priam is a strong king.’
‘Oh, he is strong,’ agreed Agathon, ‘but he is hated. There are few of his sons he has not slighted, or publicly shamed. However, there is also discord among the brothers. Deep divisions and even hatreds. Hektor alone holds us all together. First, because we all love him.’ Agathon gave a wide smile. ‘Second, he would kill anyone who went against father.’
‘This is all fascinating to a foreigner,’ said Andromache, ‘but how does it concern Hektor’s bride-to-be? If he is dead I will return to Thera, and be with my friends.’
‘I hope you might consider a different path,’ he said.
‘Why would I?’
‘I am also unwed, Andromache. And in all my twenty-eight summers I have never seen a woman who fires me as you do. Therefore – unless there is another who holds a place in your heart – I would ask that you consider me as a suitor.’
Andromache smiled. ‘What a strange city this is, Agathon. It is immoral for a woman to swim with a man, but acceptable for a man to woo his brother’s bride?
In truth it will take me a while to master the rules here.’
He sighed. ‘That was neatly parried, Andromache. But think on what I have said.
If news reaches us that Hektor is gone I will petition my father for your hand.’
Before she could answer him a young soldier came running across the beach. ‘The king calls for you, lord,’ he told Agathon.
‘I must go. Think on what I have said.’
‘Oh, I shall think on it,’ she assured him, and watched as he walked away. He carried himself well, but as she looked at him her mind pictured another young prince, his hair dark, his eyes gleaming with suppressed passion.
… unless there is another who holds a place in your heart…
She thought again of the night at the Bay of the Blue Owls, and of the young man from the golden ship who had stepped away from the crowd. And then again, the following morning, when he had stood, heartbroken, holding the severed head of his friend in his hands. More than this, though, she remembered his arms enfolding her at the palace of Hekabe.
‘Oh,’ she whispered, gazing out over the wide, blue bay, ‘if Hektor is dead let the golden ship come for me.’
ii
For Helikaon the first few weeks after the raid on Pithros had been arduous and draining. The camaraderie he had enjoyed among the soldiers and officials of Dardania had been replaced by a cautious coolness that reeked of fear.
He was no longer the Prince of the Sea, a merchant and a man of the people. He was Helikaon the Burner, the avenger, the ruthless killer. Servants averted their eyes when he passed. Even men he had known for years – like Oniacus, and the old general Pausanius measured their words, anxious to avoid causing offence. The atmosphere within the citadel was fraught and tense. Outside the fortress the storms of winter raged, lightning forking the sky, thunder rolling across the land.
Everywhere there was disorder. The murder of the young king had created a feeling of unease and fear among the general populace in the countryside.
The people of Dardania were from many diverse cultures: migrants from Thraki had settled the northern coasts; Phrygians, Mysians, and Lydians had formed scores of small farming communities in the once empty heartland east of the capital.
Merchants – Egypteians, Amorites and Assyrians – had built trading centres to the south, linking with Troy. Even at the best of times, when harvests were good, and trade thriving, tempers flared and violent incidents erupted between the various ethnic groups.
Since the death of Diomedes tensions had been running high. A small settlement of Mykene exiles had been attacked, and five men hacked to death by an angry mob. A riot had developed in a Phrygian community, following the theft of a sheep. Two women from a Mysian settlement claimed to have been raped by travelling Hittite traders. A revenge party had set out and seven men were killed in the skirmish.
Dardanian troops were spread thin across the hills and valleys, and along the bleak coastlines, seeking to restore order. Into this chaos had come outlaw bands, and roving groups of unemployed mercenaries, attacking isolated villages, and raiding merchant caravans.
The problem was compounded by the laws imposed by Helikaon’s father, Anchises.
All Dardanian land belonged to the king, and those who built houses, farms or trading posts here were merely tenants. The rents were exorbitant – half of all crops, produce, or trading profit. For this relationship to work, Helikaon knew, the people needed to hold to two truths. First, that the king and his soldiers would protect them from bandits and raiders, and second, that failure to obey the king’s laws would result in a swift and terrible punishment.
The people’s trust was tarnished by the assault on the fortress. If the soldiers could not protect Diomedes and Queen Halysia, how could they ensure the safety of the populace? And the fear instilled in the people by Anchises had been eroded by the more conciliatory government of Queen Halysia, and her general, Pausanius.
Helikaon called a meeting of settlement leaders, inviting them to the fortress.
They were worried and uneasy as they gathered in the great columned throne room, surrounded by cold statues of the warrior kings of Dardania.
Before the meeting Pausanius had urged conciliation. ‘They are good people, my king,’ he told Helikaon. ‘They are frightened, that is all.’ Helikaon liked the ageing general. The man was fearless in battle, and he had served Queen Halysia loyally.
‘What you say is true, Pausanius,’ he said, as they stood on the broad balcony of the royal apartments, looking out over the sea. ‘Answer me this, though. When you are about to go into battle do you pause and consider your enemy, whether his soldiers have children at home? Whether they are good men? Whether their cause is as just as yours?’
‘No, of course not. But these people are not our enemy.’
‘And what is?’
The general looked confused. He scratched at his red beard. ‘I … don’t know what you mean, my king.’
‘We are close to anarchy, and what happens here today will either begin the process of unifying the people – or see the realm splintered by scores of small uprisings, and then a rebellion. Understand this, Pausanius: all kingdoms survive on the shield and the sword. The people need to believe the king’s shield will protect them. They also need to be certain that if they disobey, then the king’s sword will cut them down. Belief in the shield was fractured by the assault on the fortress. Fear of the sword has also been lost. What is the enemy? We have an army of fifteen hundred men. If the multitude no longer trusts and fears us, then we will be overthrown. Some bandit chief will raise an army.
Some foreign power will sail ships into our bays. The enemy, Pausanius, is gathering in the throne room.’
The old general sighed. ‘What would you have me do, lord?’
Later, after the haggard old soldier left his apartments, Helikaon sent a messenger to the queen, requesting that she admit him to her presence.
Halysia had survived the stabbing, but was still so weak that she did not leave her apartments. According to her handmaidens she would sit silently all day, staring out over the sea. Then the women would help her to her bed,
