“Very intriguing,” Gershom said, “but I meant do you know where I am going now?”
“Oh! Yes, I do. The House of Stone Horses.”
“Well, that is true enough. Now, where do you live?”
She gave a soft laugh. “My guards are looking for me, so I must go. But I will see you tomorrow at Hektor’s palace.” With that she hitched up her white tunic and darted away.
Gershom thought of chasing her and handing her over to the city watch. Some of the areas of the lower town were known to be dangerous, and a moonstruck child like this one could find herself in peril. But even as the thought occurred, he saw her vanish into a dark alley and out of his sight.
With a shake of his head the big Egypteian walked on toward the palace of Helikaon.
CHAPTER THREE
THE AMBER GODDESS
Early-morning sunshine bathed the streets of Troy as Helikaon left the House of Stone Horses and strolled through the town. The business of the day was beginning: Merchants were setting up their stalls in the marketplaces, and servants and slaves were carrying bundles of cloth or produce wrapped in dry reeds. The varied sounds of the city washed over Helikaon as he walked: hammers beating on metal from the Street of Armorers, the braying of donkeys, the clucking of hens, the yelping of dogs, and the cries of the gather-men competing to draw crowds to their stalls.
It felt strange to be back in Troy. The war seemed far away now, the death of Halysia a dark nightmare, unreal and bizarre.
He had awakened that morning to a soft, warm body beside him. In the instant before full consciousness asserted itself he had thought to open his eyes and gaze down at Halysia. Instead it had been Dex, his thumb in his mouth, his head resting on his father’s shoulder. Helikaon had stroked the fair hair back from the boy’s brow. Dex’s eyes had opened, and then the child had fallen asleep again.
Easing himself from the bed, Helikaon rose and dressed. He chose a white tunic embroidered with gold thread and a wide belt embossed with gold leaf. He felt uncomfortable in such finery, but it was fitting for his meeting with Priam. Lastly he took a scabbarded dagger and tucked it into his belt. It was unlikely that assassins would be on the streets of Troy but not impossible.
In happier days Helikaon had walked those streets in the company of Hektor or his brothers Antiphones and Agathon. Those had been the days of innocence, when the future had promised wonders. It was here on these streets, ten years earlier, where he and Hektor had argued about the merits and drawbacks of marrying for love alone.
“Why would you want to?” Hektor had asked. “All the actions of a prince must strengthen the realm. Therefore, a wife should bring a handsome dowry, land, or promises of alliance with her father’s kingdom. A prince can find love wherever he wishes thereafter.”
“I do not agree,” Helikaon had replied on that far-off day. “Odysseus loves his wife and is happy. You should see them together, Hektor. You would change your views in a heartbeat. Odysseus says that life without Penelope would be like a land without sunshine. I want a wife who brings me happiness like that.”
“I hope you find her, my friend,” Hektor had said.
And he had. He had found the woman of his dreams.
How ironic, then, he thought, that it should have been Hektor who had married her.
He paused to examine some Egypteian jewelry on display and immediately was accosted by an elderly merchant, a slender dark-skinned man with henna-dyed hair and beard.
“You won’t find better, sir. Not anywhere in the city.” The man lifted a heavy brooch of amber decorated with gold wire. “Sixteen silver rings, sir. A real bargain.”
“In Egypte last season,” Helikaon commented, “sixteen silver rings would buy a sack of these baubles.”
“Perhaps, sir,” the man replied, his dark eyes narrowing. “But since there is now no trade with Egypte, who knows what price amber is fetching?”
“Wise words,” Helikaon agreed, casting his gaze around the marketplace. “There are fewer stalls than I recall from my last visit.”
“A few have left,” the merchant agreed. “More will follow, I think. My brother packed up his wares as soon as the fortification ditch was dug. Too early, I said. But he always was timid. Now they say there’s going to be a wall to protect the lower town. If that’s true, I’ll follow my brother.”
“An interesting point,” Helikaon observed with a smile. “You will stay only as long as the lower town is badly defended?”
The merchant chuckled. “Priam is a good king. Has to be said, though, that he’s careful with his wealth. If he has now agreed to the expense of a wall around the lower town, it will only be because he cannot stop the Mykene coming to this land. Well, I have walked through the ruins of towns plundered by the Mykene. I’ll not wait to see such sights again.”
Helikaon nodded. “I see the logic in your words, but surely still more merchants will quit the city if Priam builds no wall to defend them?”
“Yes. Who’d be a king, eh?”
On the stall Helikaon’s eye was taken by an amber pendant on which an artist had incised the figure of the goddess Artemis, her bow extended, the string drawn back. It reminded him of Andromache and the way she had stood on the balcony of Priam’s megaron, calmly shooting arrows down into the Mykene attackers. Lifting the pendant, he examined it more closely. It was finely carved.
“You are a wonderful judge of jewelry, sir,” said the merchant, immediately slipping back into his sales patter, “for you have chosen the pride of my collection.” He was about to go on when Helikaon interrupted him.
“Before you speak, let me say I am in no mood to haggle today. So this is what we will do. You will name one price. If I like the price, I will pay it instantly. If not, I will drop this bauble back onto the stall and walk on. Now, name the price.”
The old merchant licked his lips, then rubbed his chin. As he did so, he stepped out from behind the stall, appearing deep in thought. Helikaon stood quietly as the merchant observed him. “Twenty silver rings,” the man said at last.
“I agree,” Helikaon told him with a smile. “You are a clever man. What is your name?”
“Tobios.”
“A Hittite?”
The merchant shrugged. “I suppose that would depend on who asked. The land in which I was born is fiercely contested. The pharaohs would say I am a foul-hearted Hittite desert dweller, but the land is currently ruled by Emperor Hattusilis of the Hittites. Therefore, I am now considered to be a foul-hearted Egypteian desert dweller. Life for my people is always complicated.”
Helikaon smiled. “Such complications help sharpen the wits,” he said. As he spoke, he counted out the twenty silver rings and laid them on the stall. “If you choose to remain in the city, Tobios, come and see me at the House of Stone Horses. I am Helikaon of Dardania, and I always have need for men of good judgment.”
Tobios bowed his head and touched his heart in the Hittite manner.
Helikaon walked on, the amber pendant in his hand. The price had been high. The merchant had looked at his clothing, appraising through its quality the wealth of the wearer. The white tunic was of Egypteian design, woven from the finest thread. The engravings on his belt were filled with gold leaf. His sandals were fashioned from crocodile skin, brushed with gold. If he had not been dressed for a meeting with King Priam, he would have worn old comfortable clothes and bought the pendant for two-thirds of the price.
Moving on through narrow streets and open squares, he reached the mighty Scaean Gate with its six guardians of stone, passing through to the upper city with its palaces and gardens and avenues. Indications of wealth lay everywhere. Women wore heavy necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, and the men sported expensive toques or wristbands.