Island of Fire (The Age of Bronze) (43 page)

“The sun sets in the west,” the Lakedaimóniyan whispered, closing his weary eyes. “Why do you think we are going there?”

“Yes,” she answered him, as gently as she could. “But I have been to the Footprint Isle, very far away to the west, past the pillars of the Divine Twins on the Island of Fire. My father once sailed as far as the mountains of silver, still farther west. When he came back, he told us that the resting place of the sun must have been still farther to the west than that, because he had come no nearer to it, although he had sailed for the whole of the season and had to winter there in the land of silver.”

St’énelo smiled, showing his rotting teeth and swollen gums. “I would not expect the gods to leave such a magical kingdom unguarded,” he whispered. “It cannot be seen by mortal eyes, my good woman. Of course, your father could not see what the deities did not wish him to see, being a mere mortal. But there is nothing you can say that will shake my faith in my past and future king. You will see that I am right, Dáuniya. In time, you will all see.”

The long day passed uneventfully as the refugees crossed to their first landfall in the
ítalo
country and on into the deepening twilight. Odushéyu was clearly leading the way as darkness fell, as no other knew the way as well as he did. Peirít’owo had also been that way at one time. So it was he who began by taking turns with Odushéyu, guiding the lead ship. The wind began to pick late in the evening. Clouds thickened through the dimming of the light, and a light mist fell with the onset of the darkness of night. Odushéyu sent Qérayan aloft on the mast with a few coals packed among ashes in a broken flask, hanging from his belt. With an oil-soaked rag draped around his neck and a stout bough clamped in his teeth, the young man shinnied up the slender post to the basket attached to the summit. There he was to perch through the night, lighting a torch to help guide the other ships until moonrise.

Two oarsmen huddled together on their bench, speaking in low voices, as the islander ascended. “All that talk of the seeress, early this morning, all her warnings about the sea’s mistress requiring appeasement, it made my flesh crawl, Polik’ó.” He shuddered.

“I know exactly how you feel, Náwiyo,” the second man answered. “I always thought Poseidáon was a great lord, with as many concubines as our father has. But, if the waves are really controlled by a divine lady…”

Náwiyo finished his brother’s sentence, “…then she must be very unhappy with Odushéyu using her domain to ride from his paramour to his mistress.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Polik’ó said, still more quietly. “I am afraid that the doe we sacrificed at dawn will not be sufficient to satisfy her.”

“How could it?” asked Náwiyo. “The blood fell on the earth. What will that do for a deity of the salt waters? No, this mist is a warning, brother. She wants one of us. It will have to be human blood that is shed. She will get what she wants, too.”

Polik’ó started. “One of us! You mean one of Odusheyu’s sons? That us?” He was horrified. Náwiyo’s silent nod confirmed his fears. “Which one?” he gasped. He scarcely breathed the question, his clammy hands gripping his brother’s arm.

Náwiyo nodded again, this time indicating the light at the top of the mast. It was just visible from their bench as Qérayan removed the coals from their hiding place and touched the rag-wrapped branch to them. “I will shoot him with my arrow, as soon as he gets the torch really blazing. What do you say? With any luck, the fire will go straight to Astárt, and his body will fall down here among us. Then I will cut off his hands and tie them around his neck, so his corpse cannot return to avenge himself on us.”

Polik’ó was trembling from head to toe by then, his teeth chattering so violently that his question was difficult to make out. “What if the body floats? The others might recover it. We could be found out!”

“I cannot guarantee anything!” Náwiyo hissed. “What do you think I am, a god? If the body falls in the water, then it is up to Astárt to accept it and save us, or else she will not!”

“And if it falls inside the ship?” Polik’ó gulped.

Náwiyo sighed in exasperation. “Then I will tie it to one of the anchors and throw it overboard again! Now, obviously we will need help. Who can we trust?”

“I do not think that any more of our brothers survived Qelémak’o’s massacre, when he became king of It’áka.
Ai
, that day when the sun set in the middle of the day was so evil, I will never forget it, if I live to be a hundred years old and every last one of my hairs falls from my head! But, now, come to think of it, there were those three half-brothers of ours from Doulikiyón that hid under the big table! They were in Párpara with us.
Ai
, no, I remember, Érinu’s tribesmen finished them off, may Préswa force them to carry water in sieves when they get to ‘Aidé! But then, old king Agamémnon definitely had a number of bastards, too, and they are on this vessel with us. I do not trust some of those illegitimate cousins of king Orésta’s, though. Their father was a priest, after all, so you never know what kind of character they will show.” Polik’ó nervously tapped his fingers on the bench, thinking out loud. “The twins are the wildest of the bunch, Talidátta and Periqónta. Nekastáta is a good one to have on our side, as he is strong as a bull, but not very bright. He will do as I tell him. As for the girls, Keláino would probably help us, I think, as long as we make it worth her while. She is a bit moody, though, come to think of it…”

Náwiyo interrupted, “That is more than enough already. Get the others here, right away. Qérayan has already had enough time to sing three drinking songs by now. We must make a plan and quickly. We will need a diversion so that I can get a clean shot.”

“I will get the others and then you tell us more about your plan, Náwiyo.” Almost immediately, Polik’ó was down in the hold, rousing sleeping rowers before his brother could admonish him to be quiet about it.

All that Odushéyu knew of it was that the torch and its bearer that had gone aloft somehow fell into the sea that night, amid a chorus of screams from oarsmen who were maddened by songs that he could not hear, sung by
maináds
that he could not see. When he and Diwoméde managed to calm the group at last, neither of the two older men nor Peirít’owo could disover from any of them what, exactly, had transpired. There was nothing to be done, at that point, but wash the mysterious blood from the mast, where it seemed to have no business being, and mourn their loss and Qérayan’s unhappy fate.

The ominous mist progressed no further, lifting with the tardy dawn. The travelers, stiff and cold, rejoiced, taking unusual care to praise the shining torch of the gods as the Lady of the Morning rose. Still greater was their joy and louder their exultation when the first hints of land appeared on the horizon. Suddenly energized, the men were forced to share their rowing benches with women crowding up from below to see. They sang and shouted to greet the lighter color of the waves, the first seagull winging overhead, and the first bits of wood drifting among the white caps on the sea. Standing on the benches and clambering over the stern platforms, they could hardly be persuaded to take up the oars and furl the sails again. Those who could not be the in the first ferry boats to the shore wept like babies or hurled themselves into the salt water, icy cold though it was. swimming ashore with their last ounce of strength.

Diwoméde wanted to send only a small party at first to scout this unfamiliar site. But the crews and passengers could not wait for caution. Odushéyu, for his part, urged them on, only too eager to oppose the
qasiléyu
and thus demonstrate his own leadership. The refugees piled aboard all the ferries at once. Those who could not swim could not bear to wait for the return of the small boats. They even inflated some of the empty goatskin bags that had formerly carried water. Draped over these air-filled sacks, they recklessly paddled to the still green land. At this first landfall in the fabled Land of Bulls, the travelers showed no organization of any kind. Some barely waited till they felt their feet on dry land and flung themselves full length on the earth to kiss and embrace the welcome soil. Most of them were rewarded for this pious act by being trampled by the next overeager wave of refugees to come ashore. Rudely shouting at whoever got in their way, shoving one another to the side, they spread out in every direction.

“Look for water!” Peirít’owo called to some of those nearest him, rushing toward the least likely source, the nearest rise, with its green olive trees widely scattered over a hillside of golden grass.

“Wait, wait!” Askán yelled angrily after the disbursing crowd. He was soon in tears of frustration, unable to persuade any of the grown men of Assúwa to return to the ships with him and retrieve his ailing father.

Odushéyu knocked down every man he could see, trying to get them to gather around him and take orders. But no one cared any longer what commands he might give. Every man that fell returned the blow that he had received and ran in the opposite direction as speedily as his legs would take him. The women were equally rebellious and just as quick to retaliate. T’érsite and Diwoméde kept well to the side, simply watching the madness that overtook their companions. They were soon joined by Tushrátta, chuckling merrily and shaking his head at the situation.

“They would not listen to anything I said,” the
qasiléyu
remarked irritably to his companions. “But this is insanity. Dáuniya’s homeland is still quite a distance from here, as far as I can tell. None of us knows these shores well, not even Odushéyu. At least, only Ainyáh knows very much, and he cannot share his knowledge with us, not in the state he is in now.”

Tushrátta nodded, no longer laughing. “That is the truth. In fact, he was breathing his last just as I left my ship. I tried to tell Askán, so that he would stay with his father, but he is infected with the same wild spirit as the others. By Tarqúnt, this is a bad business! That old woman’s ridiculous song and dance the other night meant nothing to me, I tell you. But it should have put the fear of the gods into her fellow Ak’áyans. We Assúwans know perfectly well not to go rushing headlong into unfamiliar territory. There may be wolves or bears here, or even jackals, for all we can tell.”

“Or wild Italians,” T’érsite added, amused. “Those Párpariyans were bad enough, but at least they kept their distance after we left Érinu’s rotting fort. Whoever those people were, next to the land of the North Wind, during the last few days, they surely made me nervous! I want to see what the natives look like around here, before I go wandering off into this countryside.”

“I tried to tell them,” Diwoméde sighed, anguished to think of his failure and the possible consequences.

“
Idé
, if Odushéyu had stood behind you, and agreed to make you our leader, it might have worked, too,” the older Argive observed sorrowfully, throwing an arm over his adopted nephew’s shoulders. “But no, he had to turn it into a competition between the two of you. Now, look what has happened!” He indicated the rapidly emptying shoreline with his broad, calloused hand.

Diwoméde pulled away. “I am going to look for Dáuniya.” He limped away, looking to the right and left for any sign of her.

Neither of the other men followed him. “Speaking of wives, where is yours?” T’érsite asked the Lúkiyan.

Tushrátta’s answer was uncharacteristically curt. “She is in my ship with her children, where these other people ought to be.” He shook his head again at the scene. Askán remained by the shore, now sobbing as unabashedly as if he were only a little boy. The boat in the shallows beside him had but a single oar in it and was gradually working its way back out toward deeper water. It had not been dragged fully up onto dry land. Neither had most of the others. Some had sprung leaks. Others had capsized. Filled with water, they soon sank. Only some would prove retrievable if their owners returned for them. People left behind in the ships crowded the stern and prow platforms in the deeper water, wailing and cursing those on shore, as no boats returned for them.

Suddenly, over the lower rise to the west, a dark band appeared and the sound of distant ululation could be heard. “By all the gods and
dáimons
!” T’érsite swore in anger and fear. He spat on the ground. Or, rather, he tried, but found that his mouth had gone dry, as dust but no liquid would come.

The travelers on the nearer slopes turned around and raced back toward the seashore, crying out in alarm. Those few still close to the boats cast about for weapons with which to defend themselves. But few had thought to bring any. A mere handful had daggers. What driftwood lay about was quickly scooped up. The sinking or capsized boats were soon cannibalized, torn apart so that the boards could be used as clubs.

Diwoméde called out repeatedly for the men to gather around him. This time, Odushéyu backed him up, repeating the
qasiléyu’s
orders, filled with cold terror. Soon there was a ragged line of scantily clad and naked men wielding their makeshift weapons, clustered around the two former warriors. “Women and children, get behind us!” the
qasiléyu
commanded. Those close enough to obey did so. Most who were farther away continued to scatter, only changing the direction of their flight. Still moving away from where they embarked, they also ran from the approaching natives.