For the first time, his eyes were full of dismay and of terror.
8
They advanced for several days until they found another of those strange square-shaped cities, surrounded by a canal, filled with huts of the same size. There were still some people left here, just a few families who survived by rearing a cow or two, or a small flock of sheep. They took fright at the Achaean warriors, but Diomedes ordered his men not to harm them and to take only the women they could convince with gifts or words. A pointless order; nearly all the remaining inhabitants were well on in years.
They decided to stop there nonetheless because the weather had changed again for the worst: first rain, then snow and intense cold. They found food there as welclass="underline" wheat, barley, milk and cheese. And the forests were full of wood for lighting fires.
When the weather was fine, the king took his horses down to the plain, far away from the square city. He brought them there to graze, and the horses pawed the snow to find grass and scrub to feed on.
He would return in the evening with a look of melancholic peace in his eyes, and would go to his hut without speaking to anyone. If snow fell during the night he would come out wrapped in his cloak and linger there, watching the big flakes swirl through the air in silence, his eyes bright and feverish. Sometimes he wouldn’t go to rest until it was nearly dawn, falling then into a heavy, agitated sleep.
The men who stood guard outside his door said that they had heard him calling out the name of Queen Aigialeia, in his sleep, and that they had heard him weeping, but Myrsilus threatened to cut off their tongues if they ever dared speak of such a thing again. He said they had to stand guard and nothing else, putting the rest out of their minds.
One day the king took only one of his horses with him and when he was far from the camp, he tried to mount him barebacked, as he had seen the Dor do. The steed bucked and shook him off more than once, but in the end the king had the better of him and managed to stay on his back as he galloped through the snow-covered plain. It felt incredible, like flying, like squeezing an impetuous sea wave between his legs, and Diomedes felt as if he could feel the hot blood of that great animal flowing in his own veins.
The steed flew, flogging his flanks with his tail, blowing clouds of steam from his frost-whitened nostrils and letting out shrill whinnies. Diomedes let him run until he was exhausted, then dismounted, covered him with a blanket, and let him graze. Every now and then the horse would raise his proud head and shake his mane, seeming to stare at him with a troubled, intense gaze.
‘You’re thinking of your master, aren’t you? Are you thinking of Aeneas?’
The animal shook his head as if nodding. ‘He’s no longer with us. Aeneas is dead. I’m all you have left, and it’s me you must love. If we should ever meet up with him one day, I will challenge him, and if he wins you can return to him, if you wish, and carry him once again into battle. But until that day you must serve me, for I have won you in fair, honourable combat.’
He started back towards the village but a false trail brought him far from his path, very far, to the southernmost edge of the forest. Before exiting the thick of the woods, he saw a caravan advancing from the north through the deep snow. There was a small group of warriors armed with long swords and spears, clad in animal hides and wearing helmets of leather and bronze; behind them a pair of oxen were pulling a covered carriage.
When they were very close, a sudden wind blew at the mats covering the sides of the carriage. For a moment, a mere moment, the king saw a maiden of divine beauty, her blue eyes veiled by shadow, her forehead white and pure as ice, her hair like ripe wheat. She looked like Aigialeia, when he had seen her the first time! Her features were different, the slant of her eyes and the lines of her face, but her spirit and form were the same, as were the enticing ambiguity and directness of her gaze and, he imagined, the fire that blazed beneath her gown. Happy the man who would carry her to his wedding chamber.
He mounted his horse and followed the little cortege at a distance, at length, remaining within the forest so he would not be seen. He felt an invincible force pulling him towards that carriage that advanced, swaying, and leaving a deep trail in the snow. He realized some time later that the carriage was approaching one of those square cities surrounded by a moat and an embankment, but this one was much bigger, and could contain many people. Spirals of smoke rose slowly from the rooftops, towards the cloudy sky.
He came out into the open just as the carriage was stopping and a door was opened in the palisade to admit the new arrivals.
A man crossed the bridge at its centre, walking towards the carriage from which the girl was descending. The warriors also unloaded several wicker baskets, her dowry perhaps, and carried them towards the city.
Diomedes sank his heels into his horse’s belly and got so close that the girl could see him; she looked into his eyes and he returned her gaze and made a sweeping gesture with his hand as if inviting her to follow him. The men who had been accompanying her turned towards him in alarm, then took their bows and began shooting arrows at him. He was beyond their range and he shouted to her: ‘Come with me! No one is more beautiful than you on this earth! Come with me!’ He spoke from his heart; he felt that that woman could become the queen of the city that he would found. Only she, perhaps, could wipe the image of Aigialeia from his soul. He wanted to attack then, and carry her off, but as he was about to charge forward, a great number of men appeared from behind the palisade and drew up before the carriage.
The maiden entered the city behind the man who had come out to welcome her. Before the door closed behind her she turned towards the plain and looked back at that rash warrior who continued to call to her, prancing about on his bay horse and raising sparkling sprays of snow.
Diomedes understood what was happening. The chief of those people had had a bride brought to him from afar! A bride of another stock, who would ward off the fate of his dying race, inject new blood into a breed cursed by an obscure affliction.
And this made him want that woman even more, at any cost.
He returned to his village, following the prints left by his horse in the snow, and he called his warriors to assembly that very evening. He told them that he had discovered another one of those strange cities, large and prosperous, full of herds, of abundant food, of weapons and metal to be forged. This would mark the moment of the conquest of his new kingdom. By spring they would have land, women and riches enough to found a new city. The warriors pledged to assist him.
‘I thank you,’ said the king, ‘and if we win I will take a queen for myself from this city and I will take her into my bed as soon as the good weather returns.’ The warriors cheered and applauded and then they all sat on the ground for their meal. Telephus had roasted a goat and it was served to the king and his friends, but the wine had run out.
‘We will plant vines as well!’ said Diomedes. ‘I have seen wild shoots in the forest. We’ll cultivate them to produce fruit. We will drink wine together and make merry, just as we once did,’ he said. ‘Like in the old times,’ he promised, but having no wine saddened them nonetheless.
Two months passed, and in that time the Chnan managed to make good progress in learning the language of the inhabitants of that land. They did not fear him because he had no weapons and because he spoke as though they could understand him. When the weather started to improve and the days to lengthen, the Chnan knew more about those places and those people than all the Achaean warriors put together. One day, towards sunset, he asked to see the king. Diomedes was sitting on a stool in front of his hut watching the sun descend over the boughs of the trees which edged the horizon. The Chnan told him: ‘King, I come from a land of journeyers; we are always encountering different peoples, and thus is it easier for us to learn their languages. But this does not mean that we are not fond of our own land; when I saw the ships burning I felt like dying at the thought that I would never again see my land and my city. But if you promise me that one day you will find me a ship and you will let me depart, I will serve you faithfully and tell you everything I manage to learn.’