Steep Wilusiya (Age of Bronze) (28 page)

Néstor shook his head, remaining calm only with effort.  "Men always think tomorrow's battle will be the last before victory.  But a commander must be realistic.  All right, yes, we did well today.  But tomorrow we may do poorly.  The only sure way to end a war is negotiation.  Now, consider this.  The 'Elléniyan woman has cost Wilúsiya a great deal.  Alakshándu is old and has seen two of his sons die for her.  He must want an end to this.  I believe the king could be persuaded to take back the sister he lost twenty years ago to Ak'áyan pirates.  Trade the lady Ishqíyanna for the 'Elléniyan queen.  What do you say?  Can Meneláwo be persuaded to give up the war?"

Agamémnon shook his head vigorously.  "You do not understand, old man.  Meneláwo is not the problem.  He is a simple man with room in his heart for only one thought at a time.  He wants his wife and that is all.  He would give his consent to your plan readily enough.  But that is not what this campaign is about."

"Are you saying this is your war and not your brother's?" Idómeneyu asked coldly.

Agamémnon smiled and spread his hands.  "Look at the whole situation.  Ak'áiwiya is a rich place, but divided.  It took my father the better part of his life to consolidate his sovereignty over Argo, Lakedaimón, and Arkadíya.  The south was not united by treaty until Néstor took my mother's sister as his second wife."

The graying Mesheníyan nodded, his eyes gleaming harshly.  "This marriage links only the one generation," he pointed out.  "Unless you give one of your daughters to one of my sons, the link will break after our passing."

Agamémnon waved his hands impatiently.  "Yes, yes, Néstor, I fully intend to give Antílok'o his choice of my daughters.  Or, perhaps, he would prefer the daughter of one of my kinsmen.  My cousin Aígist'o has a lovely girl just reaching marriageable age…"

Néstor's eyes narrowed, deepening the furrows in his forehead and cheeks.  "What is this talk of cousins' daughters?  It sounds as though you are saving K'rusót'emi and Lawódika for someone else.  Do you think you can marry your daughters to the princes of Mízriya and Náshiya?  Forget it, Agamémnon.  Foreign kings simply do not marry Ak'áyan women.  They consider us barbarians.  Accept it.  Your power in Ak'áiwiya is greater than any other man's, past or present.  Your heirs may wield still more power, if the gods are willing.  But that is all.  Why is this not enough for you?  You risk everything gained in three generations if you abandon your oldest allies."

Agamémnon groaned and rolled his eyes.  "Ai gar, Nestor, you still do not see the whole situation.  I expected more wisdom from you.  Well, I will explain it.  Do you think the great king Qáttushli is satisfied with all his possessions?  Is the great king Ramusís satisfied?  Ai, no king or emperor is ever satisfied with what he has.  If I do not contest Qáttushli on the shores of Assúwa, do you not think he will contest me in Ak'áiwiya, one day?  For that matter, are you sure that Mízriya will not send its armies against us?  Mízriya coveted Kep'túr's wealth in our grandfathers' time.  Only the wars between Mízriya and Náshiya saved Ak'áiwiya from attack back then.  Now that the two empires have settled their differences, it is only a matter of time until one or the other turns on us.  When that happens, without my help, Kep'túr will fall.  And what kingdom do you think the Mízriyans will take on next?  Why, your own land of Mesheníya!"

"You do not know that!" Néstor cried, truly alarmed.  "Lakedaimón is closer."

"But your kingdom is richer.  The point is that Mízriya's king will never be content so long as Ak'áiwiya's wealth is just beyond his grasp.  Either he or Qáttushli will march against us sooner or later."

Idómeneyu frowned.  "So, we prepare for this by making war ourselves?  That makes no sense.  We leave our homes defenseless this way, practically inviting attack.  A quick raid would have been a better tactic."

"If protecting Ak'áiwiya was my only aim, a raid would have better, certainly," the overlord admitted, unruffled.  "But I intend to rule an Ak'áyan empire, based on the control of tin.  That is what this war is really about, not my sister-in-law.  Meneláwo's wife was only an excuse to raise this army.  Would the men of all Ak'áiwiya unite over tin?  Never!  They would send out their pirates to steal it from me should I be lucky enough to get it.  But give them a challenge to Ak'áyan honor and they trip over their own feet in their rush to join me."

Odushéyu was nodding, impressed, throughout Agamémnon's speech.  "You have thought this through quite well, my friend.  But I must ask you one thing.  Why did you take Ak'illéyu's woman?  Did maináds take hold of you?  You nearly destroyed all your plans with that move."

The high wánaks sighed.  "Is that not clear by now?  My sovereignty was the issue.  I had no interest in Ak'illéyu's captive.  If I had really desired her, would I have left her untouched in my tent?  Never!  But I had to show all the men who was in charge here.  I could not let that pup get away with defying my authority."

"Evidently, you learned nothing from that episode.  Ak'áyans are not like the sons of Dáwan," Néstor warned.  "Our peoples will not worship a man as if he were a god, whether he is dead or alive.  You cannot hope to gain the same kind of control over your lawagétas that the great kings have."

Agamémnon threw up his hands with a grunt.  "That may be.  But one man can take an oath of loyalty to another, even in Ak'áiwiya.  My point is that, where there is no native overlord, one will come from abroad.  We will be united one way or the other.  That is inevitable.  I am just trying to ensure that Ak'áyan unity serves Ak'áiwiya's interests.  I am only doing what is best for all of us."

Odushéyu was quick to speak up.  "I understand and I agree.  Ak'áiwiya must have one ruler and he should be an Ak'áyan, not a Náshiyan or a Mízriyan.  The quarrel with Ak'illéyu is in the past.  Forget it.  Let us concentrate on the present."

"And the future," the overlord added, mollified.

"The need to end this campaign now remains pressing," Néstor insisted.  "Regardless of any man's desires or plans, negotiation is still the only reliable route to peace.  Let us settle things now and return home."

"Ai, Néstor," the high wánaks growled.  "You are as stubborn as a donkey.  I am well aware of the season and the value of negotiation.  But how can I stand before this army and say, well, never mind, it was a bad idea, and then send everyone home empty handed?  Tell me a way to end this conflict that will not lower my standing in the men's eyes."

"We need something to hold over the Tróyans," Odushéyu said, thinking deeply.  "You know, it is a shame we gave up Qántili's body.  We might have bargained for that."

The overlord snorted.  "And started a civil war, here among the tents?  You know Ak'illéyu would not have given the corpse to me.  If I had taken it by force, I would have lost the support of every P'ilísta."

"This might be a good time to consult Qálki," Néstor suggested.  "He has not had much to do since…"  He did not finish the sentence, seeing the Argive king's face darken.

"The Stuks will overflow its banks before I listen to that son of a sow again!" Agamémnon roared, rising so vigorously that his feet raised a cloud of dust from the dry ground.

Néstor glimpsed movement out the tent flap and took that moment to leave.  "I see my son and your qasiléyus have returned from the fields.  Let me consult with Antílok'o.  Perhaps he will have good news.  If another of Alakshándu's sons has been killed, we have our bargaining tool."  He walked from the tent as quickly as decorum would allow.

Odushéyu began to chuckle as the older man disappeared.  "Ai, Agamémnon, Ak'illéyu may not comprehend how high your status has become, but Néstor certainly does.  Perhaps his reputation for wisdom is not completely undeserved, after all."

The overlord laughed too, his anger dissipated.  But a small group of feathered northern kings interrupted his amusement.  "I have a complaint to make to you," Mak'áwon announced.  "And it concerns Ak'illéyu."  When the high wánaks groaned and the other southern lawagétas rolled their eyes, the P'ilísta nodded.  "Yes, I know it is first one problem and then another with the T'eshalíyan.  But this time he has really gone too far.  Something must be done.  You are surely aware that he took three male captives when the Lúkiyans attacked us."

Agamémnon frowned.  "He has not actually killed them, has he?"

Mak'áwon nodded again.  "That is precisely my complaint.  Automédon came to my tent because of a wound he took to his elbow, and he told me about it.  Ak'illéyu has ordered his qasiléyus to bring the captives to the site of Patróklo's pyre at sunset.  Of course, they knew the prince intended to sacrifice the men.  When I heard, I went to Ak'illéyu at once and tried to talk him out of the idea.  It was a practical matter, you understand.  At least one of the prisoners was of royal blood.  He might be ransomed for a considerable amount of bronze."

Odushéyu snickered.  "Yes, I have heard about that one.  A young man, they say, without a full beard, and good looking.  Ai, admit it, Mak'áwon, you did not have ransom in mind."

The northern surgeon bridled at the suggestion.  "What difference does it make what my motives were?  The point is that Ak'illéyu's behavior is completely unreasonable.  He made a rash vow to Patróklo's spirit, one that any sane man would have put aside.  But he insisted on keeping that vow and, when I objected, he slaughtered all three prisoners at once!"

Agamémnon sighed heavily and shook his shaggy head.  "By all the dáimons of 'Aidé, that man is a constant thorn in my flesh!  I am half inclined to make a prize of honor for the Tróyan who kills him for me!"

The northern kings looked at each other in dismay.  "That is not what I had in mind," Mak'áwon hastened to say.

"Then what do you want from me?" the overlord demanded, angered.  "I cannot reason with a man who refuses to leave the company of maináds!  If I make demands, he will only throw another tantrum and keep his T'eshalíyans out of the next battle.  Just let it go, Mak'áwon.  He has had his magnificent funeral for Patróklo, games and all, and he has fulfilled his despicable oath, now.  Just be glad he listened to Meneláwo and did not sacrifice twelve men."

aaa

"Antílok'o," the royal father called to his son.  "How did it go today?  Did you recover much bronze?  Did we lose many?"

Antílok'o's feet dragged heavily toward his father's hearth.  "No, there was not much bronze for the taking.  Those fighting women of 'Aidé wore truly wondrous armor, but their weapons were of inferior quality, not worth collecting."

Néstor put an arm around his son's shoulders.  "I warned you that there would be days like that.  But what about the Mízriyans?  They come from a wealthy nation.  It is said that even the common people in Mízriya have no dishes of baked clay, but eat from bronze plates."