‘No, there was abundant flattery,’ he told her. Laodike laughed.
‘About being a great warrior and a hero, and it being fitting that you should attend?’
‘Something similar,’ he grunted.
‘It is a great honour to be invited. There is already discord in the family. My father has upset a number of his sons, who will not be present. Antiphones is out of favour, as is Paris. And there are others.’ She sighed. ‘Even at such a time he still plays games with people’s feelings. Do you really think he will listen to you, Argurios?’
‘I do not know. I have little to offer, save my sword. But the sword of Argurios has some value.’
She leaned in to him, her hand sliding down his flanks. ‘The sword of Argurios has great value,’ she told him.
XXIX
The Blood of Heroes
i
Antiphones watched from an upper window as his visitor left, a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He turned to the hearth where a platter of smoked fish and corn cakes lay cooling. He munched some fish and washed it down with a swig of undiluted wine, sweet and thick. His fears eased a little, but he knew they would return. He had caught himself in a net of his own making. He had always liked and admired Agathon. Though they had different mothers, they were much of an age and had played together as children. They even looked similar then, with blond hair and blue eyes. Priam’s three eldest sons – Hektor, Agathon and Antiphones – were often mistaken for one another by visitors to the king’s megaron, and he winced as he recalled Priam saying to his guests, ‘Alike in looks but not in character. Remember: Hektor the brave, Agathon the sly, and Antiphones the stupid!’ His visitors would snigger politely, and the king would smile his cold smile and study the reactions of the three boys. Antiphones knew he wasn’t stupid. As the years passed he came to realize he was sharper than most people he knew. It was he who first understood it was better to ship wine from Lesbos than to grow vines on the land north of the city best used for horse paddocks. Breeding strong horses and sending them all round the Great Green raised more for Priam’s treasury than trading in wine. It was he who suggested reorganizing the treasury and keeping an inventory of the king’s wealth in the script learned from the Hittites and written on Gyppto papyrus. As a result of all this, with typical cruel humour, Priam had made Polites his chancellor and fat Antiphones Master of the Horse. He knew people laughed when they heard his title; few bothered to hide it. It had been many years since he had been able to mount a horse.
He walked to the window again and looked down on the quiet street. Unlike most of the king’s sons, he chose to live in the lower town, close to the bakers, wine merchants and cheese makers he loved. Each afternoon, after his nap, he would stroll down through the streets and wander among the food stalls, taking his choice from the ripest figs and the sweetest honey cakes. Sometimes he would walk slowly down to the far side of town to where a young woman called Thaleia offered spiced pomegranates and walnuts glazed with honey. It was an effort to get that far, but he could not ride and he feared being carried in a litter in case it broke. This had happened once two years ago. He still felt the shame of it and had not travelled in one since.
But that shame was as nothing to what he felt now.
When he had been made aware of the plot to kill the king he had joined in with zeal. Priam was a tyrant, and tyrannicide was an honourable mission. The king gathered wealth to himself at the expense of all else in the city. Antiphones, with his knowledge of the treasury, had best reason to know that. Children in the lower town starved in winter, slaves in the fields died of exhaustion in summer, yet Priam’s treasure house was bursting with gold and precious gems, most of it covered with the dust of ages. Hektor, defending his father, would say, Yes, the king can be harsh, but he never scrimps in his defence of the city. Yet Antiphones knew this not to be true. The Thrakian mercenaries were grossly underpaid, and the city engineers had still not been instructed to rebuild the weak west wall.
With Hektor dead, all restraint on Priam’s acquisitiveness would be gone.
Antiphones had been asked to join the rebellion because Agathon recognized in him the skills they would need to reorganize the administration of the city, renegotiate treaties with neighbouring kings, and rethink their defences. For the last few days he had made feverish plans, staying up into the depths of the night working on his dreams for the future of Troy once his father was dead. But today’s meeting with Agathon had toppled his hopes and plunged him into despair.
‘It is tonight, brother. You must stay clear of the palace.’
‘You mean to kill him after the funeral feast?’
Agathon had shaken his head. ‘During. My Thrakians have orders to kill all our enemies tonight.’
Antiphones felt a hollow opening up in his chest. ‘All our enemies? What enemies? You told me Karpophorus was being hired to kill father.’
Agathon shrugged. ‘That was my original thought, but he cannot be found. But think on it, brother. Merely killing father would only have been the beginning anyway. Dios and many of the others would start to plot our downfall. Don’t you see? Civil war would follow. Some of the coastline kings would ally themselves with us, but others would follow Dios.’ He lifted his hand and slowly made a fist. ‘In this way we crush them all and Troy remains at peace with all its neighbours.’
‘You said all our enemies. How many are we talking about?’
‘Only those who might turn on us. Only those who have laughed when father mocked us. Only those who have sniggered behind our backs. A hundred or so. Oh, Antiphones, you have no idea how long I have waited for just this moment!’
He had looked into Agathon’s eyes then, and seen for the first time the depth of his half-brother’s malice.
‘Wait!’ he said desperately. ‘You cannot allow the Thrakians loose in the palace. They are barbarians! What of the women?’
Agathon laughed. ‘The women? Like Andromache? Cold and disdainful. You know what she said? I cannot marry you, Agathon, for I do not love you. By the gods I’ll watch her ravished by my Thrakians. They’ll pound the arrogance out of her.
She’ll not be so haughty after tonight.’
‘You cannot allow it! Trojan troops must not be used to kill Trojan princes! How would they be regarded thereafter as they patrol the city? Will father’s murderer be sitting in a local tavern talking of how he cut the throat of Troy’s king?’
‘Of course you are right, brother,’ said Agathon. ‘You think that has not occurred to me? Once the Thrakians have taken the palace walls our allies will arrive. It is they who will kill those inside the megaron.’
‘Our allies? What are you talking about?’
‘A Mykene force will be landing after dusk. Their soldiers will kill our enemies.’
Antiphones had sat very quietly, trying to absorb this new information. Father had talked of Agamemnon building great fleets of ships, and had questioned how they would be used. Now it was clear. Agathon had been duped by the Mykene. He would be king in name only. Agamemnon would be the true power, and he would use Troy as a base for Mykene expansion into the east.
He had looked at Agathon with new eyes. ‘Oh, my brother,’ he had whispered.
‘What have you done?’
‘Done? Merely what we have planned. I shall be king, and you will be my chancellor. And Troy will be stronger than ever.’
Antiphones had said nothing. Agathon sat quietly, watching him. ‘You are still with me, brother?’ he had asked.
‘Of course,’ answered Antiphones, but he had not been able to look him in the eye as he said it. The silence
