“The people still mourn their dead. Even in the villages, the thick dust makes it difficult to plant the fields. My subjects will remove me as king if she can convince them that I am to blame for their continuing misfortune by my refusal to give up my daughter. The priestess stokes their fears. She prays for another calamity to light the fire of rage within them.”
“Then her prayers have been answered,” the commander said. He told the king about the Mycenaean ship.
“How long before an invasion?”
“Once the ship reaches the mainland, a matter of days — an armada will be assembled. They can place five hundred warriors on shore within weeks. More will follow. They are fierce fighters and will be thirsting for blood and booty.”
The king weighed the commander’s words.
“News of the scout ship’s visit will spread to our cities and villages,” he said after a thoughtful pause. “The priestess will offer the people a way to save themselves. She will profess, ‘if the king makes his sacrifice, the Mother Goddess will repel the Mycenaeans.’ If I refuse, the people will storm the palace. Some of the marines will join them.”
“The governors of the other cities will stand by you.”
“My governors, even those close to me, will have no choice but to turn against me.”
“My men will fight to the death to defend you.”
The king waved his long fingers in the air. “I have other work for them. The priestess and her brother can’t be allowed to gain control of the treasury. It must be moved out tonight, as soon as darkness falls, while they lay in a trance after the sacrifices.”
“So soon?”
“No better time. I have prepared for this day. I will join you in the gardens after darkness falls. Now go!”
The commander followed a pathway that ran through an olive grove bordering the elaborate gardens behind the palace, to the barracks and stables used by the Followers. Couriers instructed the men scattered around the palace to assemble in the gardens as soon as the sun rested. Horses were brought in and a handful of sentries were posted in the gardens.
The commander led two dozen of his strongest men into the palace along a corridor that was high and wide enough for the horses to pass through.
The passageway ended in a wall decorated with a fresco that showed a school of fish in exuberant flight. The commander pushed with the tip of his sword against the third fish eye from the left. A lock clicked and the wall swiveled open to reveal a wide doorway. He and his men stepped into a huge vault and used their guttering torches to light wall lamps. The smoke escaped through an ingenious ventilation system.
The Minoans had amassed vast wealth, but most of that treasure was invested in the fleet of warships and merchant vessels, often one in the same, and in the buildings and infrastructure that were the hallmarks of a great empire. The jewels and gold accrued from commerce were scattered among the prosperous port cities. Aware that the delicate balance of power between the king and high priestess could be upended at any moment, Minos had secretly diverted the finest gems and precious metals to his own treasury secluded deep in the bowels of the Labyrinth.
The treasure was contained in dozens of bronze chests stacked on wagons that were ready to be hitched to the horses. Some chests were empty, in anticipation of riches yet to come. If any of the men thought it odd that the commander ordered them to hitch the wagons with both the empty and full coffers, they kept their questions to themselves.
One-by-one the wagons were pulled through the passageway to the gardens. Shortly after darkness fell, the king emerged from the olive grove. He wore a hooded cloak and carried his sleeping daughter over his shoulder. The nanny trailed behind them.
“All is well, I trust,” he said in a low voice.
“The treasure is ready to be transported at your word,” the commander said.
“Good. I want you to go to the south coast where a great ship will be waiting. Sail to Egypt and use the treasure to build a new navy. Each chest has more than enough for a great ship, its crew and contingent of marines. I will stay here.”
The commander scowled in disbelief. “You must leave with us, sire. It is too dangerous.”
Minos rose to his full regal height and pushed the hood away. “I am still the king. I will reason with the people.”
“The priestess has whipped them into a fury. They are beyond reason.”
“I am not the first King Minos, nor will I be the last. At the very least, if I stay, you will gain time to escape with my daughter.” He slipped the sleeping girl from his shoulder and held her body cradled in both arms. “I entrust you with my greatest treasure. On your life, keep her from harm’s way!”
The words came not from the monarch of a wealthy empire, but from the mouth of a stricken father saying farewell to his child forever.
“As you wish, sire,” the commander said.
He lifted the slumbering girl into his brawny arms.
The king removed a leather pouch from under his cloak and looped the strap around the commander’s thick neck. “Fill this scroll with your words. Write every day. If you or I are lost, it will show those that follow the way to the treasure. It must never fall into the wrong hands. Promise me!”
“I give you my promise, sire.”
The king lifted the hood back onto his head and vanished into the shadows.
The commander stared into the darkness until he became aware of the heat of the girl resting in his arms. He told the nanny to get into a supply wagon, then handed the girl up to her. With a heaviness in his heart, he ordered his men to move out.
PART III — FLIGHT
The commander and his men marched under the stars, following a road that ran between rugged mountain ranges and across plains covered with agricultural fields. At dawn, he ordered the group to stop and rest in the shade of some hearty trees so his men could dine on bread, cheese and water.
The march continued under the blistering sun and well into the evening. Spurring him on to even greater urgency were the pinpoints of light moving along the royal road from the direction of Knossos. His instincts told him that the high priestess had recovered from her drug daze and rallied her followers much faster than he’d expected. The commander had lived through many battles by thinking far ahead of the enemy. His orders from the king were what the high priestess would expect him to do, so he did what he had prepared for when he ordered his men to transport empty chests from the treasury along with the full.
He split his men into two groups. One group would take some wagons and continue on to the coast. The nanny and the child would go with them. The commander led another contingent of men, horses and wagons onto a dry river bed through the rugged hills.
When the commander caught up with the procession the next morning, the weary faces of his men were smeared with sweat and dirt. The string of horses they led no longer hauled wagons. The commander spurred his men along the coastal road which gradually rose, passed through a narrow gorge and descended a series of switchbacks to a small harbor.
Tied up to a stone quay were four vessels. The largest, a cargo ship, had a narrow stern and an upturned prow carved into the head of a bird. The vessel had a graceful crescent profile. Towers at each end were designed to provide archers defending the ship with elevated battle stations.
The wagons were wheeled up a gangway onto the ship. The bronze chests were slid down ramps into the hold. Stalls were set up on deck for a few horses while the rest were given to a nearby village. The chariot was taken apart and stored in the hold.
The commander pondered the fate of the other vessels. Two were mid-sized trading craft. The last was less than a third the length of the great ship and its narrow white hull was painted with images of leaping blue dolphins. He recognized the king’s yacht which had been on its way back from a competition in Egypt. The yacht had stopped at the southern harbor and the crew headed north on foot after learning their home port had been destroyed.