sank.
The king clenched his fists and lowered his head.
The men began to gather the branches and tree trunks that the tides had abandoned on the beach, and lit fires to dry themselves, their clothing and cloaks. They then hauled the ships aground and took refuge inside. They stretched the sails over the thwarts and lay down beneath them, holding each other close to keep warm. The wind continued to blow all night without cease, not subsiding until dawn. The next morning the sea gave up the bodies of some of their comrades who had drowned in the storm. They were green with algae and their eyes were open in a watery stare, like those of fish that a fisherman tosses on the beach to die.
They were buried in that low, grey land, among the cane thickets and brushwood on a clear, cold morning, and when the king had finished their funeral rites, the four pilots of the ships, including Myrsilus, approached him.
‘Let us stop here, wanax,’ Myrsilus said, speaking first. ‘We have already lost many men. The days are getting shorter and the weather is worsening. If we go on, we will all die. How will you be able to found your kingdom then? Who will you share your destiny with?’
The king turned to face the sea and seemed to be absentmindedly watching the swell of the waves which stretched out over the sand until they licked at his feet. The Chnan spoke then: ‘I heard tell of this place from a sailor of Ashkelon who had learned about it from an Achaean of Rhodes who imported amber. I think we have reached the coast of the Seven Seas: seven lagoons which pour into one another until they reach the mouth of the Eridanus. There lie the Electrides islands, where amber falls from the sky, they say. . or where amber arrives on mule-back from the lands of the long nights, I say. From this point on, the paths of the sea are calm and sheltered. We need only steer clear of the shallows, but a man with a sounding line at the bow will suffice to avoid them.’
Diomedes turned to him: ‘You know many things, and you saved my ships yesterday. When I found my kingdom I will build you a house and give you weapons and a cloak. I will give you a beautiful woman, tall with rounded hips. But tell me, why is it that yesterday you spoke in the language of the Achaeans? You’ve been with us for some time and you’ve never spoken a word in our language.’
‘Because there had been no need,’ replied the Chnan, ‘but I thank you for your promise. I would ask you to do the same with your Hittite slave as well. He saved you and all of us by setting the grasslands on fire.’
The king shook his head: ‘I owe my life to a slave and to a foreign merchant! I wonder whether our gods still have power over these lands. . What you propose is only right; when I found my kingdom, the Chetaean slave will have the same things I’ve promised you.’ Then he turned to his men and said: ‘Let us go forward and explore these lands. We will seek a landing place where we can find water and food. There’s nothing here; not even the possibility of shelter.’
The men obeyed and put the ships to sea, first the king’s and then all the others. The Chnan stood at the bow, dropping a line every so often to gauge the depth of the water. Not much time had passed before they saw a group of low islands on the surface of the waves. They followed a wide channel that wound like a serpent through the small archipelago and soon sighted the mainland and went ashore. The place was deserted. The silence was broken only by the shrieks of sea birds flying low over the cane thickets. Diomedes sent some of the men hunting with bows and harpoons and then called Myrsilus. He ordered him to advance inland with a group of men, to see who lived in that land and whether they could settle there. He sent the Chnan with him as well.
As soon as they had left the coast and were out of sight, the Chnan said to Myrsilus: ‘Hide your arms here under the sand and keep only a dagger or sword under your cloak. We’ll move forward in small groups, at a distance from each other. In this area there should be a market where the goods that come from the north are exchanged with those that come from the sea. Merchants won’t attract attention, but armed men would.’
Myrsilus was reluctant to abandon his arms, but remembering how the Chnan had saved the fleet the day before, he thought it was best to heed his advice. He ordered his men to do as he had said. He took the lead in the first group, scanning the territory continuously as they advanced. He felt exposed, alone and naked in that flat solitude. In all his life, he had never crossed a land from which neither the mountains nor the sea could be seen, in which the countryside was not bright with myriad colours. Here, as never before, the land was a uniform, endless expanse, all the same pale green. They saw, towards midday, a herd of horses, hundreds of magnificent animals grazing peacefully, twitching their long tails; their long wavy manes nearly touched the ground. A pure white stallion galloped around a group of mares and ponies, his tail erect. He would stop and rear up, whinnying and pawing at the air, and then start to gallop again. No one guarded over them; that immense wealth seemed to belong to no one.
Here and there, marshes glimmered on the ground, and the land would suddenly become soft and spongy under their feet. Thick oak groves sheltered groups of boars rooting about in search of acorns and tubers. Deer with majestic horns would stop suddenly at the edge of a wood and stare at the intruders, blowing little clouds of steam from moist nostrils.
They walked and walked until they could see a wisp of smoke rising in the distance, as the western sky began to redden in a muted sunset. There was a little town of grass-roofed wooden huts covered with mud. There also seemed to be a camp at a short distance from the settlement.
‘If we had brought our arms we could have had food and women!’ said Myrsilus.
‘Instead, we’ll go to them and ask for their hospitality; that way we’ll find out where we are. You don’t say a word. I know better how to deal with them.’
They got closer and saw that around the little town were droves of small, black swine and flocks of sheep. Ducks and geese dipped their bills into the mud on the shores of a little marsh. A group of children swarmed towards them and a dog started barking, soon joined by others. Several men came forward then as well; the Chnan raised his hand and told Myrsilus to do the same. The men got closer and were staring at them. Their legs were covered with tanned skins and they wore long-sleeved tunics of thick wool, belted at the waist with a strip of leather decorated with carved pieces of bone. They carried no arms, at least, none that could be seen. They spoke among themselves for awhile and then one approached and said something.
‘What did he say?’ asked Myrsilus.
‘I don’t know. I’ve never been around these parts before.’ The Chnan loosened his belt, raised his tunic and slipped out something he wore against his skin: a long string wound several times around his waist, strung with brightly coloured glass beads and bronze clasps adorned with amber or glass.
Myrsilus looked at him in surprise: ‘Where did you find all that?’ he asked.
‘This is my personal treasure; I always carry it with me. I was wearing it when you pulled me from the sea.’
The men instantly drew closer and behind them, Myrsilus noticed some women as well. They raised up on tiptoe to admire the wares that sparkled in the hands of the Chnan. Soon they were all chattering away, each in his own language, and it seemed that they could all understand each other well enough. The Chnan moved his hands with the skill of a juggler as his face assumed a great variety of expressions; he soon was directing all his attention towards the women and ignoring the men. He would place the shining clasps on their rough-hewn woollen clothing, and those little trinkets seemed to light up the beauty of those coarse, wild women, much as a bare stone is brightened by the colours of a little springtime flower.
The Chnan gave up a couple of the clasps and a few beads in exchange for hospitality for the two of them and for the comrades who were waiting just outside the village, in addition to a sack of barley bread and five whole cheeses for their return journey.
He and Myrsilus ate in the house of the man who seemed their chief, the only one who had bought ornaments for himself, his wife and his eldest daughter. His arms hung on the walls of the only room that made up the house: a long bronze sword, a studded shield and a dagger. The floor was made of flame-hardened dirt.
The Chnan spoke during the whole dinner and it was evident that as time passed, he was rapidly learning to understand them and make himself understood. At times he accompanied his words by drawing signs with his knife in the barley loaf in front of him or on the curdled milk in a bowl in the centre of the table. The dogs lay near the entrance, waiting to lick the bowls once the meal was finished.
After a while, they heard low noises outside the door, the sound of hushed words; the reflection of flames
