“Which one?” Odysseus asked innocently.
“There! The tall one,” Agamemnon said, pointing at Kalliades again.
“Member of my crew,” Odysseus said. “He runs for Ithaka.”
“The man with the sword of Argurios,” Idomeneos added.
“Another traitor,” Agamemnon snapped.
“The world is full of traitors,” Odysseus agreed. “So how is it you know this man?”
“He killed Kolanos, a loyal follower, and was sentenced to death for it. However, he escaped justice and fled… to you, apparently.”
“Had I but known,” Odysseus said. “Naturally I shall dismiss him from my crew when the games are over.”
“He should be dragged out now,” Agamemnon maintained. “I shall send word to Priam.”
“That might cause a problem or two,” Odysseus said. “I seem to recall that following the attack on Troy last autumn King Priam released all prisoners. It is said he requested they kill the general of that raid, a man who had offered to betray his king.”
“A foul Trojan lie!” Agamemnon snapped. “Kolanos would never have betrayed me.”
“Even so, the killing of Kolanos was ordered by Priam. You can hardly ask him to punish a man who carried out his order. And on the surface at least, Kolanos had already betrayed you by attacking Priam, who was—and remains—your ally.”
Agamemnon hesitated. “Your words are wise, Odysseus,” he said at last. “It saddens me that we are not allies. Surely you can see the threat Troy poses. You think Priam, with all his wealth and his growing armies, has no designs on the lands of the west?”
“I do not know the mind of Priam. I think, however, that wealth is all he desires. And he has no need to invade others to see it grow. Troy sucks in gold by the day, in every ship, in every caravan.”
“I have agents here in Troy,” Agamemnon said, keeping his voice low. “Priam recently purchased a thousand Phrygian bows, and he is shipping copper and tin to his armories. Breastplates, helms, shields, swords. If we do not deal with this man now, he will descend on us all.”
Odysseus smiled. “I am the man with no enemies, Agamemnon. Not Troy, not the Mykene, not the Hittites or the Gypptos. My ships are welcome in all bays and all ports.”
Agamemnon appeared to relax. “I appreciate your frankness, Odysseus. I shall be equally forthright. When the war comes—as it must—then those who continue to trade with Troy will be considered enemies. There will be no neutrals.”
“It is getting dangerous to be neutral these days. Old Eioneus was neutral. I hear he fell from his horse and died.”
“A tragic loss for his people,” Agamemnon said. “And I fear he will not be the last. I am told that another of us is to be declared an enemy of Troy. Whoever it is will be lucky to leave the city alive.”
“You are suggesting Priam killed Eioneus?”
“I had no quarrel with him. Perhaps he was preparing to renounce his alliance with Troy.”
Odysseus did not believe the lie for a moment, but he kept his own counsel. “And who is this other enemy to be named?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I wish I did. It is a most odd story.”
Just at that moment there came a great roar from the crowd as the runners were called to the starting line at the western end of the track. The Lord of the Games lifted his arm. The vast crowd fell silent. “Away!” shouted the lord. The twenty runners sped out, sprinting toward the finishing post. Several judges were waiting there to note the first five to cross the line. They would progress to the next round.
Kalliades finished second. Other races followed. Odysseus watched them, sometimes wagering with Idomeneos and Nestor. Then he left the enclosure and walked around the stadium to where the later rounds of the javelin were being contested. Bias was throwing well, but Odysseus saw the black man rubbing at his shoulder. He looks weary now, Odysseus thought. By the later rounds his shoulder will be a sea of pain.
Then, some distance away, standing close to Priam, he saw Helikaon. His heart lifted, and he waved to catch Helikaon’s eye. He was convinced he had, for the dark-haired young man glanced in his direction, though he then turned away. Odysseus watched as he eased his way back through the throng until he was out of sight.
The boy looks thin and weary, he thought. And with so many Mykene in Troy, he should not be out in public. But I will lift his spirits when we speak. Helikaon would be glad to know that supplies of tin from the Seven Hills had exceeded expectations and the profits from the last season had been enormous.
Hungry now, Odysseus made his way to a food stall, where he stood in the shade munching on a Trojan delicacy: meat and herbs wrapped in a broad leaf that had been marinated in wine. Then he walked back around the stadium, coming at last to the enclosure where Agamemnon was standing with King Peleus and his tall son, Achilles.
Odysseus looked at the fleshy king and thought of Piria and of how she had hacked away her blond locks as a child. He knew, as did many of the kings of the west, of the man’s abhorrent sexual tastes, but he knew now of one more evil committed by him.
Now look what you made me do, slut.
Appalling enough to have raped the child, but to make her believe it was somehow her fault was vile beyond belief.
“Well met, Odysseus,” Peleus said, thrusting out his hand.
“You must forgive me,” Odysseus replied, avoiding the handshake. “I have been munching on sweetmeats, and my hands are sticky with honey.” He swung to Achilles. “Good to see you, lad. The word is you will be champion of the games.”
“There is no real competition,” the young man said sourly. “Save perhaps your man, Leukon.”
“He is a canny fighter.”
More races began. Peleus and Achilles wandered away to stand with Idomeneos and the Athenian king, Menestheos.
Agamemnon leaned toward Odysseus. “You are not overly fond of Peleus?”
“I hardly know him. So tell me of this enemy of Troy.”
“I have the story in fragments only. Given time I will learn more. You recall the assassin Karpophorus?”
“By reputation only.”
“He died stabbing the ghastly Helikaon. He did not die immediately, however. It seems that Karpophorus was also responsible for the murder of Helikaon’s father.” Odysseus felt suddenly cold, and his belly tightened. “What is it?” Agamemnon asked, his dark eyes watching the Ugly King.
“Too many sweetmeats,” Odysseus answered. “Go on.”
“There is little more that I can tell. Karpophorus told Helikaon the identity of the man who ordered his father’s death. Helikaon passed the information to Priam. As you know, Priam was blood kin to the father. Cousin or suchlike. So honor demands he declare the man who hired the killer an enemy of Troy. Now, I doubt the man is a mere merchant, so it is likely he is a king. The question is, Who? Anchises was not an enemy to the Mykene. There is a dark mystery here, I think.”
Odysseus saw that Agamemnon was staring at him intently. “I don’t doubt light will shine upon it soon,” he said, moving away. Then he caught sight of Kalliades and Banokles strolling close by. Stepping out, he called the two friends to him. Banokles had a swelling under his right eye and a cut lip, but he was in a fine mood.
“Did you see me, Odysseus?” he asked. “Downed that Hittite six times.” He lifted his fist. “Hammer of Hephaistos!”
“You did well,” the king said. “Are you returning to the palace now?”
“No,” Banokles said. “I’m off to the lower town to meet a friend.”
“I’m heading for the Penelope. I’d be grateful for your company,” Odysseus said, staring at Kalliades. The warrior’s eyes narrowed. Then he nodded.
“And we would be privileged to walk with you, Odysseus King.”