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weeks.
She spoke wistfully, almost sadly, almost as if all that had happened to her had
somehow been her own fault. "With so many suitors, my father had to be very
careful in his choice. Finally he picked Menalaos, brother of the High King. It
was a good match for him; it tied our house to the most powerful house in
Argos."
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r r
"You had no say in the matter?"
She smiled at such an absurd idea. "I didn't see Menalaos until our wedding day.
My father kept me well protected."
"And then Aleksandros," I said.
"And then Aleksandros. He was handsome, and witty, and charming. He treated me
as if I were a person, a human being."
"You went with him willingly, then?"
Again her smile. "He never asked. He never took the risk that I might refuse
him. In the end, despite his wit and charm, he still behaved like an Achaian: he
took what he wanted."
I looked deep into her bright blue eyes, so innocent, so knowing. "But in Troy
you told me..."
"Orion," she said softly, "in this world a woman must accept what she cannot
change. Troy was better for me than Sparta. Aleksandros was more civilized than
Menalaos. But neither of them asked me for my hand: I was given to Menalaos by
my father; I was taken from him by Aleksandros."
Then she added, almost shyly, "You are the only man I've had to pursue. You are
the only one I've given myself to willingly."
I took her in my arms and there was no more talking for that night. But still I
wondered how much of her tale I could believe. How true was her passion for me,
and how much of it was her way to make certain that I would protect her all the
way to distant Egypt?
The turmoil of our earlier travels eased after Cilicia. Robber bands and
wandering contingents of masterless soldiery became rare. We no longer had to
fight our way across the land. Yet each night Lukka had his men tend to their
weapons and equipment as if he expected a pitched battle in the morning.
"Now we head toward Ugarit," Lukka told me as we turned south once again. "We
sacked the city many years ago, when I was just a youngling squire clinging to
my father's chariot as we charged into battle."
Past Ugarit we went. The once-mighty city was still little more than a
burned-out shell, with shacks and shanties clinging to the blackened stumps of
its walls where once mighty houses and fortified towers had stood. I saw the
visible evidence of the power of the Hatti empire, strong enough to reach across
mountains and plains to crush a city that defied its High King. And yet that
power was gone now, blown away in the wind like the sands of a melting dune.
For the first time since I had been up in the hills above Troy, I saw a forest,
tall stately cedar trees that spread their leafy branches high overhead, so that
walking through them was like walking down the aisle of a living cathedral that
went on for miles and miles.
And then, abruptly, we were in the rugged scorched hills of the desert. Bare
stones heated by the pitiless sun until they were too hot to touch. Hardly any
vegetation at all, merely little clumps of bushes here and there. Snakes and
scorpions scuttled on the burning ground; overhead carrion birds circled
waiting, waiting.
We cut far inland over the broken hilly terrain, avoiding the coast and the port
cities. Now and again a band of marauders accosted us, always to their sorrow.
We left many bodies for those patient birds to feast on, although we lost four
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r r
men of our own.
The territory was a natural habitat for robbers: raw, lawless, a succession of
broken barren hills and narrow valleys and defiles where ambush could be
expected at every turn. The heat was like an oven, making the land dance in
shimmering waves that sapped the strength from my men and their mounts.
Helen rode in the cart, shaded by tenting made of the finest silks of Troy. The
heat took the energy from her, too, and her lovely face became wan and drawn;
like the rest of us, she was caked with grimy dust. But not once did she
complain or ask us to slow our southward pace.
"Meggido is not far from here," said Lukka one hot bright day, as the sweat
poured down his leathery face and into his beard. "The Hatti and the Egyptians
fought a great battle there."
We were skirting the shores of a sizable lake. Villages lay scattered around it,
and we had been able to barter some of our goods for provisions. The lake water
was bitter-tasting, but better than thirst. We filled our canteens and barrels
with it.
"Who won?" I asked.
Lukka considered the question with his usual grave silence, then replied, "Our
High King Muwatallis claimed a great victory for us. But we never returned to
that place, and the army came back to our own lands much smaller than it was
when it went out."
Around the lake we traveled, and then down the river that flowed southward out
of it. Villages were sparse here. Farming, even along the river, was difficult
in the dry powdery soil. Most of the villages lived on herds of goats and sheep
that nibbled the sparse grass wherever they could find it. These people also
spoke of Meggido, and told of the enormous battles that had been fought for it
from time immemorial. But they gave the city a slightly different name:
Armageddon.
The weather was getting so hot that we took to moving only in the very early
morning and again late in the day, when the sun had gone down. We slept during
the coldest hours of the night, shivering in our blankets, and tried to sleep
during the hottest hours of midday.
One morning I walked on ahead, taking my turn as advance scout. The day before
we had beaten off an attack by a determined party of raiders. They did not have
the look of bandits about them. Like us, they seemed to be members of an
organized troop, well armed and disciplined enough to back away from us in good
order once they realized we were professional soldiers.
I climbed a little rise in the rugged, barren ground and, with one hand shading
my eyes, surveyed the shimmering, wavering, hellish landscape.
Rocks and scrub, parched grass turning brown under the sun, except for the thin
line of green along the banks of the river. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]