Gershom chuckled. ‘You Sea People think too much. The slave women at the palace were there for my pleasure. That was their purpose. What did it matter whether or not they desired to be slave women? When you are hungry and you decide to kill a sheep do you stop and wonder how the sheep feels about it?’
‘An interesting point,’ observed Helikaon. ‘I will think on it.’
‘It is not a point to think on,’ argued Gershom. ‘It was supposed to end the debate, not widen it.’
‘The purpose of debate is to explore issues, not end them.’
‘Very well. Then let us debate the reason for your original question. Why did you ask if I enjoyed being a prince?’
‘Perhaps I was just making conversation,’ said Helikaon.
‘No. The first reason was to deflect me from questioning you about your concerns. The second was more complex, but still linked to the first.’
‘Well, now you have me intrigued,’ said Helikaon. ‘Enlighten me.’
Gershom shook his head. ‘You need enlightenment, Golden One? I think not. Back in Egypte there are statues of mythical beasts that used to fascinate me.
Creatures with the heads of eagles, the bodies of lions, the tails of serpents.
My grandfather told me they actually represented men. We are all of us hybrid beasts. There is the savage in us, who would tear out an enemy’s heart and devour it raw. There is the lover, who composes songs to the woman who owns his soul. There is the father, who holds his child close, and would die to protect it from all harm. Three creatures in one man. And there are more. In every one of us is the total of all we have ever been, the sullen child, the arrogant youth, the suckling babe. Every fear endured in childhood is lodged somewhere in here.’ He tapped his temple. ‘And every act of heroism or cowardice, generosity or meanness of spirit.’
‘This is fascinating,’ said Helikaon, ‘but I feel as if I have just sailed into a mist. What is the point you are making?’
‘That is the point I am making. Our lives are spent sailing in the mist, hoping for a burst of sunlight that can make sense of who we are.’
‘I know who I am, Gershom.’
‘No, you don’t. Are you the man who concerns himself about the secret desires of slave women, or the man who cuts the head from a farmer who speaks out of turn?
Are you the god who rescued a child on Kypros, or the madman who burned to death fifty sailors?’
‘This conversation has lost its appeal,’ said Helikaon, his voice cold.
Gershom felt his anger swell. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘So the issues that can be debated are only those that do not affect the actions of the Golden One. Now you are truly becoming a king, Helikaon. Next you will surround yourself with sycophants who whisper to you of your greatness, and offer no criticism.’
Gathering up his blanket he lay down, facing the fire, his heart hammering. The night was cold, and he could scent rain on the breeze. He was annoyed at himself for reacting with such anger. Truth was, he was fond of the young king, and admired him greatly. Helikaon was capable of great kindness and loyalty. He was also courageous and principled. These attributes were rare, in Gershom’s experience. But he also knew the dangers Helikaon would face as his power grew.
After a while he threw back his blanket and sat up. Helikaon was sitting with his back to a tree, a blanket round his shoulders. ‘I am sorry, my friend,’ said Gershom. ‘It is not my place to harangue you.’
‘No, it is not,’ Helikaon replied. ‘But I have been thinking of what you said, and there was truth in it. Your grandfather is a wise man.’
‘He is. Do you know the story of Osiris and Set?’
‘Egypteian gods at war with one another?’
‘Yes. Osiris is the hero god, the Lord of Light. Set is his brother, a creature vile and depraved. They are in a constant war to the death. My grandfather told me of them when I was young. He said that we carry Osiris and Set struggling within us. All of us are capable of great compassion and love, or hatred and horror. Sadly we can take joy from both.’
‘I know that is true,’ said Helikaon. ‘I felt it as those sailors burned. The memory of it is shameful.’
‘Grandfather would say that when you burned those sailors Set was dominant in your soul. It is Osiris who feels the shame. That is why you dislike being king, Helikaon. Such power brings Set closer to total control. And you fear the man you would become if ever the Osiris in you was slain.’
Gershom fell silent. Helikaon added fuel to the fire, then walked to the pack pony and brought back some bread and dried meat. The silence grew as the two men ate. Then Helikaon stretched himself out by the fire, and covered himself with his cloak.
Gershom dozed for a while. The night grew colder, and a clap of thunder sounded.
Lightning blazed across the heavens. Helikaon awoke and the two men ran to where the horses were tethered. The beasts were frightened, ears flat to their skulls.
Helikaon and Gershom led them away from the trees and out onto open ground.
Rain began to fall, slowly at first, then in a torrent.
Lightning flashed, and by its light Gershom saw a cave high up on the hillside.
He beckoned to Helikaon and they led the mounts up the slope. It was not easy.
The golden horses – as Helikaon had warned – were skittish, rearing constantly and trying to break free. The little baggage pony was calmer, but even he dragged back on the lead rope when the thunder crashed. Both men were weary when they finally reached the cave.
Leading the horses inside, they tethered them. Then the two men sat at the cave mouth, watching the storm wash over the land.
‘I used to enjoy storms,’ said Gershom. ‘But since the shipwreck…’ He shivered at the memories.
‘It will pass swiftly,’ said Helikaon. Then he looked at Gershom. ‘I thank you for your honesty.’
Gershom chuckled. ‘Always been my curse – to speak my mind. Hard to think of anyone I haven’t insulted at some time or other. Are you planning to stay long in Troy?’
Helikaon shook his head. ‘I will attend the funeral feast for Hektor.’ He shivered suddenly. ‘Just saying the words chills the soul.’
‘You were friends?’
‘More than friends. I still cannot accept that he is gone.’ He smiled suddenly.
‘Some five years ago I rode with Hektor. Priam had sent him and two hundred of the Trojan Horse to Thraki, to aid a local king against some raiders. We were pursuing an enemy force through woodland and they caught us in an ambush. Once we had fought our way clear we realized Hektor was not with us. Someone then recalled seeing him struck in the head by a hurled rock. Night was falling, but we rode swiftly back to the battle site. The bandits had removed the bodies of their fallen. Six of our dead were there, but Hektor was not among them. We knew then that he had been taken. The Thrakians were known to torture their captives, slicing off fingers, putting out eyes. I sent out scouts and we went in search of their camp. We found it just before dawn, and as we crept forward we could hear the sounds of merriment. And there, standing tall in the firelight, a huge cup of wine in his hand, was Hektor. He was regaling the drunken raiders with ribald stories, and they were shrieking with laughter.’ Helikaon sighed. ‘That is how I will remember him.’
‘But you have a second reason for this journey,’ said Gershom.
‘Are you a seer, Gershom?’
‘No. But I saw you talking to Hektor’s betrothed, and I heard you call her goddess.’
Helikaon laughed. ‘Yes, I did. I fell in love with her, Gershom. If she feels the same I mean to make her my wife, though I will probably have to offer Priam a mountain of gold for her.’
‘If she feels the same?’ echoed Gershom. ‘What difference does it make? Buy her anyway.’
Helikaon shook his head. ‘You can buy gold that is bright as the sun, and diamonds as pale as the moon. But you cannot buy the sun. You cannot own the moon.’
ii
As dawn approached Laodike wrapped herself in a shawl and walked out of the palace. The streets were
