The Paladin Chronicles Book bundle 1-4 by Neil Port - HTML preview

"I saw tears of distress in the great man's eyes when he saw what was visited upon us. He is blessed with some power of healing. I and my men saw him use this power to save my brother, Pericles, whom we thought was dead.

"We saw Lady Elena, the elf queen herself, run onto the field of battle. The Great Elvish Queen, unarmed and heedless of her safety running in urgency to help our wounded. She used her healing art on my brother, who had thought her his enemy.

"Now Lord Hakeem and Queen Elena labour long amongst Athēnai wounded. Would a Makedóne do that? Would Elis do that? I witnessed a war leader using only a handful of men defeat the mighty arrogance of Elis in nothing more than moments.

"I am proud to say that I and all my men who saw this fell to their knees and gave that man our personal oath.

"Men of Atheni," Neros's voice rose to a shout. "Hakeem is a man favoured by the Gods! The elves believe that Hakeem, the Great Queen Elena and their adopted daughter are sent by their Goddess, they are three mentioned in ancient prophecy.

"Here is a man who cares for common soldiers. Here is a mighty warrior! If anyone on this earth can stop Philippos, Hakeem can.

"Let us stop doing the work of the Makedónes. Let us stop fighting against our Troian friends. I call on all of you to follow me to fight the real enemy, the Makedónes."

The men erupted in shouting. Elis had betrayed them! He was the cause of the disaster! They should never have been here! The Makedónes are the real enemy!

Leandros put his hand on Neros's shoulder and whispered softly, "Thank you, my friend."

Few of the Athēnai would be returning now. They would stay and regain their pride, something that had been denied to them for a long time. Now Troia was made stronger despite an enemy army landing at its gates.

It was very clever. Neros only hoped they would now be clever enough to match the wily and powerful Makedónes.

* * *

Pericles could hardly stay wake. He felt so weak!

There was a lingering smell of smoke but the air was fresh to breathe. There had been some struggle to keep him alive but he had died, he remembered that.

He lay studying the girl dozing in the chair across from him. She wasn't human and yet she was so beautiful! She had the perfect features of a young elf, sixteen or seventeen years old. But she was no elf. Her long hair was full and luxurious and was as black as a raven's wing. She had tied it in a ponytail at the back, but allowed some strands to hang down on either side of her face.

The style was unfamiliar but the effect was delightful. Her dark hair and eyebrows stood out against milky alabaster skin.

She was so enchanting. Such fine features.

Her arms and legs were slender but she would be short if she were an elf, closer to a human girl. She wore a light green blouse and darker green skirt embroidered by red stitching.

When humans first encountered the elves, they worshipped them. He understood what it must be to encounter such wondrous creatures for the first time, but she belonged to whatever nether region he found himself in.

To die at twenty was bitter but perhaps there may be some compensation. Would all the women here be so beautiful? He hoped so!

For the moment all he could do was to stare at her beauty. But if he was in heaven, why did he feel so weak and so thirsty?

Just then she woke with a small start and became aware of him. Her eyes were a startling green and her face lit up with a wonderful smile. But wait! She was speaking heavily accented Greek in a musical voice. Did angels have accents?

"You're awake. My name is Seléne, I was asked to look after you." Seléne rang a small bell. "Your brother will want to speak to you but first you must drink and have some special broth. Then we will clean you up. You will need a lot of sleep."

"My brother …" said Pericles sadly. "Is he dead, too?"

Seléne laughed musically. "You're dead, is that what you think? Do I look like a ghost, do you think?"

"I took you for an angel," Pericles said.

"Well," said Seléne, laughing prettily and showing dimples, "keep that up and I may forgive you, Greek for coming here to murder us. You are in the royal quarters of Troia."

Pericles heart jumped. So they had won. Then he remembered seeing the enemy fleet arrive after he was hit by the arrow. No, the battle was lost. How could he be here and treated so well? The dream of being shot and saved, was it true?

Some human maids bustled in to help. And soon he was being fed and sponged to the waist. He needed to pass water! Was Seléne his carer or his jailer?

Anyway, she was one step ahead. She passed him an earthen bottle. No! He didn't need her to hold it for him.

Blessedly the women left him alone to use the bottle but he almost fell asleep still holding it.

* * *

Pericles woke later as his brother strode in looking healthy and happy, though he wasn't carrying his sword. Neros greeted Seléne warmly, kneeling and kissing both her hands. Pericles felt like shouting out, "Leave her alone! I saw her first!"

Neros sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at his younger brother. "Well, you look absolutely terrible," he said cheerfully. "You are quite a celebrity, you know. It was partly over you that Hakeem and I managed to stop the battle so quickly. You saved the lives of many good men."

"Have you seen Hakeem?" Seléne asked anxiously.

"Yes, you know how he spends himself, my Lady. I can't stop him. He can hardly stand. I feel like knocking him down myself," Neros affectionately shook his head.

Pericles didn't understand. "You mean he's drunk? Well, he did a good job of slaughtering us. He's got a right to celebrate."

Seléne drew herself up and glared at him in disgust and fury. She seemed to consider whether to spit on him or hit him.

"How dare you!" she screamed. "You savage! It was you who came to murder us! What would you do to us if you had have won, do you think? How can you tell lies about that wonderful man? "

Tearful and furious, she stormed out.

Neros was laughing and shaking his head. "I think she likes you! But you certainly haven't lost your way with women, little brother.

"You won't get much support saying a bad word against Hakeem around here. Even amongst our own men, well especially amongst our own men, and yes, even with me. I would give my life for him. I have given him my personal pledge.

"We should never have come here, and not just because we lost. Greedy men sent us. We were fools to obey. Believe it or not, Hakeem is distressed about what happened.

"He had a series of traps and plans but the very first one almost wiped us out. And instead of being pleased, he feels awful for killing so many and angry at himself for not foreseeing it. If anyone can stop Philippos, Hakeem can.

"And be careful what you say in front of an elf! You won't find too many elves happy with Greeks for attacking Troia. You know what the elves are like, and it's only a thousand years since the fall of Elvish Troia to Greeks, so it's still fresh in their minds."

Neros explained to him what happened after he was hit by the arrow. The Athēnai were finished as a fighting force and its men simply intent on individual survival. Hakeem had to stop the battle, and fast, while some of his enemies could be saved.

It was hard for Neros to surrender. But then he saw Hakeem and Elena work some powerful spell to save Pericles.

"Hakeem disappeared after that, but we knew he had some power of healing and was labouring tirelessly for us. A few, very few, will leave here to go home, especially amongst the rank and file of young professional soldiers. Most will stay and fight the Makedónes.

"Seeing the miracle of you being saved caused many of us to change our loyalties. And now Hakeem has been working for three days without sleep to help the wounded."

"Do they have many of their own wounded?" Pericles asked.

"No," Neros shook his grimly. "Less than a score hurt or dead, every single one of those in the rescue or battling the inferno. It's all ours that he spends himself on beyond human strength."

Pericles lay back. "There was something, I thought it a dream. He was there!" Tears started in his eyes. "I only wanted him to leave me, but he wouldn't go away. He said my time was not up. I saw into his heart."

Neros nodded. "All say that."

"I didn't know. Will she forgive me?"

Neros looked at his brother blankly.

"Seléne!" Pericles said in frustration. "That maid who was caring for me. Is she really an elf?"

Just then the Seléne in question re-entered, subdued.

"My Lord," she said stiffly. "I owe you an apology for my temper. You are sick and confused and shouldn't be blamed for what you said. If you will consent, I will continue to care for you as Hakeem has requested but I would understand if you wish another."

Did Hakeem send this wonderful creature to care for him? At that moment it seemed more important than Hakeem saving his life.

Pericles was ready to give his life for Hakeem, too, if he was responsible for Seléne being here.

He reached out for her. "It is I who should apologise. I spoke in ignorance, please forgive me, Seléne."

Seléne offered her hand shyly and he took it like a great prize and kissed it. They were looking into each other's eyes and smiling at each other. Neros was thinking of leaving them to it when the Warlord himself burst in, in the company of King Leandros and a healer.

Hakeem was haggard and grey with fatigue. "Ah, Pericles, it is good to see you. You still don't look well, but we must give it time. Try to rest and drink broth. The elves are good at broth."

Pericles wished to kneel before this man but couldn't get out of bed. All he managed was, "Thank you, Lord."

"Seléne," Hakeem looked at her wearily. "Dear Seléne, I love you so much, but you have not had much rest. You need to stop."

"My Lord!" said the healer. "You haven't slept for three days. Drink this."

"Arrr, I can't. I may still be needed." Tears were running down his cheeks. "So many, so many I couldn't save. And the burns they are the worst. Where are Elena and Jacinta?" he looked around, a bit disorientated.

Seléne got up and took the potion from the healer. She walked up to Hakeem, looking at him in the face searchingly. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "Hakeem, it will cost more life if you get sick. For all our sakes, you need rest. Please drink it."

Hakeem seemed to have some difficulty focusing on her; he hesitated and then he subsided meekly, the tension going out of his body. "Yes, Seléne."

He drank what she offered. "Please, Seléne, can you sit with me just a little while, till it takes effect? I have seen horrible things. They come to me strongly when I close my eyes. With some rest I'll be alright."

As he was led away, Pericles thought: Was that the fearsome Warlord of the desert tribes? Seléne simply took him in hand and he did as he was told.

He turned to Neros. "That was Hakeem! He obeyed Seléne, a simple maid."

Neros smiled. "In a way Seléne is in charge of Hakeem at the moment while his wife and daughter are busy. But Seléne is not a simple maid."

No, she's not simple, she's absolutely wonderful.

Pericles was asleep before he finished the thought.

* * *

Pericles woke a bit later. He wondered if Seléne and Hakeem were lovers. They seemed to love one another, though it didn't seem as if they were lovers. He opened one eye but Seléne wasn't there. There was a pretty, red-haired elf who watched him as he dozed off again.

When he woke again there was Seléne, smiling at him. It was enough to make him feel better; he was feeling better.

"You really had a good sleep," she said, smiling.

"So that was Hakeem, he has such a fearsome reputation. Now I have met him he didn't seem at all like that."

"I know, "smiled Seléne. "In some ways he can be terrifying but in other ways he's so soft. And he is so loving. Sometimes he needs looking after. Sometimes he seems…well, almost comical.

"Did you know when I first met him, I have been never so frightened of anyone in my life. I was his prisoner and stabbed him twice."

Pericles was surprised. "You were Hakeem's prisoner? Where did you get the knife?"

Seléne thought a minute. "It was kind of complicated, I will try to explain it. I was his prisoner but he was really trying to rescue me. Then he was pretending to my brother, who had captured me, that he was only pretending to rescue me. Later he pretended to me that he had been only pretending to rescue me, but he really was rescuing me all that time, if you know what I mean. It was only in the end I realised he was only pretending to pretend and really was rescuing me. He gave me the knife but took it away when I kept stabbing him."

Pericles could only make sense of the last bit.

Seléne tried to make it clearer. "It was before he surprised us by killing my brother … No! That was a good thing! And getting Mother condemned to death … No! She wanted that. Everyone else thought it was marvellous too when they realised." Seléne looked at him to see if he was following.

"Did you see your brother and your mother killed?" Pericles was feeling a little dizzy, not just from his illness, these elves were more alien than he had realised, though he was totally captivated by Seléne.

"No," Seléne replied. "Jacinta and Elena wouldn't let me see Nikan killed. My mother? No she wasn't killed. Elena, that's my sister, has to set a date for that and she won't ever get round to it, of course.

"But in a way, Hakeem saved my mother. You see, Hakeem pretended he would kill my father when he was, in fact, rescuing him, that's when I stabbed him the second time and my mother threw herself in front of Hakeem, to stop my father being killed."

Pericles understood the last point until he found Xanthe was poisoning Seléne's father and then tried to save him from being killed. Xanthe didn't know Hakeem wasn't killing him, he was really rescuing him.

Jacinta was Elena and Hakeem's daughter. She was thirteen, but Hakeem was twenty-four and Elena twenty. Oh, Jacinta was adopted but this was foretold thousands of years ago. And Elena married Hakeem, but they were both Gypsies at the time.

No, Jacinta isn't a princess, even though she's the daughter of the Queen of the Elves and granddaughter of the King of the Gypsies … She's to be a paladin!

"Yes, of course the Elena, that's my sister … Haven't you been following what I have been saying?"

With a shock Pericles realised his lovely maid-servant was Seléne, the princess of the powerful Eastern Elves. She was next in line to the throne and sister-in-law to the Warlord .

By the Gods! Well, the likes of him had no future with an elf princess. But it was too late. He was hopelessly in love.

And Seléne seemed to enjoy his company.

What was she doing here, so far away from home? She should be attending royal balls and flirting with handsome young men. When he suggested this, he was surprised by a look of anguish that passed over her face.

Who had hurt Seléne? Was it her imprisonment? Tears came at the thought, damn this weakness.

Seléne looked at him in wonder, and wiped a tear from his cheek. She bent to kiss him and he gently took her shoulders before she could withdraw and kissed her again.

"Seléne, what happened to you?"

Seléne was surprised to find herself kneeling in front of the wounded Greek with tears rolling down her cheeks. He put his arms around her. Suddenly she was clinging to him, sobbing, her tears wetting his shoulder.

She told him about her brother and what happened. "I-I thought there was no h-hope. I only wanted to d-die! Then Hakeem came, I thought it was to torture me. He was so terrifying … then he said he was going to rescue me. I wasn't sure it was real. Then I saw E-Elena … I thought she was dead!" For a while she dissolved into incoherence. "Hakeem knew what to do but he was so scary. I would do anything for him."

They lay like that for a long time, Pericles stroking her hair. It was such a wonderful feeling to have her head on his shoulder. He felt a surge of anger at Nikan but the undeniably efficient Hakeem had seen to that problem.

Seléne stood up and looked at him shyly. "I need to apologise for my sudden weakness, I don't know what came over me. But thank you, Pericles."

Just then the Hakeem in question came in, with Leandros and Neros. Neros was wearing his sword again and Hakeem was looking normal. He had slept and bathed and trimmed his beard. While Neros did the talking, bringing his brother up to date, Hakeem looked speculatively at how Seléne was watching Pericles.

 

Chapter 13: Olympias, the Forests of Dōdṓnā, and an Ancient Evil

Four women walked slowly through a small clearing of the forest, their heads bowed. They all wore the white cloaks of the senior sisters and hoods that covered their faces, but the garment of Olympias the exiled Queen of the Makedónes, was embroidered on the hem and sleeves with a rare thread from Aígyptos made from golden silk and fine gold wire. It shined as she moved between light and shadow.

Accompanying her was Antea, the senior sister of the forest, and her two most powerful disciples. Antea was old. She had been old when Olympias was young. Her hair was white hair and her skin heavily wrinkled, she was small and her frame was slightly bent.

She held a staff but still only rested on it lightly and walked without tiring. Her eyes were alight with power and wisdom and missed nothing. Olympias remembered the time when just being in the presence of Antea would make her feel comforted and safe.

She had loved the old lady, perhaps she loved her still.

How different would things have been for her if she could have stayed here, undisturbed by men and their intrigues? But it was too late, her childhood was gone now. While Olympias seemed calm, serene in this restful place, this was a meeting she had long dreaded.

"I think the night will be cold," Antea said, looking out to the mist coming over the mountain.

"Is that why you asked me to walk with you, holy mother? To discuss the weather?" Olympias asked with a smile. "Are these your bodyguards?"

"You have been putting off your visit here, and I know why." Antea indicated their two silent companions. "These sisters are witnesses."

Olympias gasped. Her order was not the same as the sisters of the forest, but Antea was the only priestess alive now who still had the power to put a sanction on her.

Without pause the old priestess continued. "I have passed beyond concern for you, my daughter."

So it had come to that.

She had hoped the old lady would die, yet some who were now old said she was old in their mothers' time, some even said their mothers' mothers' time. Her skin was dark; the blood of the old race ran pure in her veins.

"You have no power over me," Olympias warned. "I am the senior of my order. I have brought it many followers and built a new temple. I can destroy all of you."

"You may have already done that," Antea said softly.

Then she sighed. "When you are gone, whatever you have built will disappear like smoke in the wind, but people will remember, and they will fear us."

"What would you have me do?" Olympias asked.

"Stay here. Do not return to Philippos, it will destroy you both."

"I will return to my husband," Olympias said coldly, and she started to turn.

"I have not finished!" the old lady said sharply. Olympias found she couldn't move, something held her, and then she was turning back to face the ancient priestess.

"You have studied the mysteries, but you have never learnt to master yourself; and now you have blood on your hands."

"My father deserved it."

"I very much doubt that, but it would not have mattered, he was no longer a threat. You had the power of a daughter over him. Yet you allowed yourself to surrender to dark passions. Once you have started down that road, you will not stop." The old lady seemed to look deep inside her.

Olympias looked at her coldly. "Do you challenge me?"

Antea hissed and paused for a long time.

"No," she said at last, as if the denial was torn from her. Olympias felt her body released.

"You will leave here in the morning and you will not be welcome back. This is the message I will send to all other sisters."

Olympias looked at her in surprise – such a mild sanction?

Was the old woman afraid of her?

"That is not the reason." Antea sighed tiredly. "Something is coming, Olympias. It will affect all of us and we will need what strength we have. The trees have warned me not to raise my hand against you."

"What is it?"

"I do not know," Antea said tiredly.

Without a further word, Antea and her acolytes turned and walked away, leaving Olympias alone in the clearing.

Olympias stood for a long time, thinking, staring out sightlessly as the mist rolled in. She shivered, what was so terrible that they would need all their strength? What could reach out to threaten even the sisters here, even in their forest? It wouldn't just be men or their wars this time, try as she might, she couldn't imagine what it could be.

She felt uneasy, uncertain now as she stared over the forest that had once been her refuge and her comfort.

Samothráki would become isolated from the others. She would lose her most senior and talented sisters, but those that remained would be more pliable. Perhaps that would do.

She shook her head irritably; she would just have to put it behind her now and make the best of things. She really needed to focus on Aigai. Perhaps what happened there would be even more important.

She thought of young Kleopatra, the niece of Attalus.

She had been the weapon that was used against her at Pella. Attalus, the Makedóne noble was her son's most powerful enemy and led all who opposed him. They had waited till Olympias' marriage was most strained and then Attalus introduced Philippos to his niece. He suggested he marry her to appease the pro-Makedóne faction.

The weapon was well chosen.

Kleopatra was a common Makedóne name meaning "she is the glory (kleo) of her father".

This Kleopatra lived up to her name. She was young, beautiful, blonde and sweet. In all ways different to Olympias.

Philippos found her irresistible. He renamed his new wife Eurydíkē which was the name of his mother. There was a time when he had called Olympias that.

Antea was right of course, there is a gentle, womanly way to gain power.

At the wedding Attalus deliberately provoked Aléxandros. He proposed a toast, praying his niece would produce a "true" Makedóne heir. Olympias was from Ápeiros, not Makedonía.

The resultant fight had gotten Olympias banished, Aléxandros was briefly banished and Attalus sent to serve Parmenion, who had once been his junior.

When Olympias arrived in Aigai she would need to have her wits about her, now more than ever. She would need to control her temper. This time, more than ever she would have to be clever.

* * *

Olympias had returned from Dōdṓnā to Ápeiros and was making her final preparations to leave when a mysterious visitor arrived outside the gates asking for her.

Some premonition caused her to meet him in the queen's throne room, flanked by two of her senior acolytes and with the guards not present but not too far away.

The traveller wore a simple travelling cloak of earthy hues but had a hood drawn forward to conceal his face.

She was told he had no donkey, no weapon and no provisions. He came simply with the clothes on his back as if he sprung from the forest itself.

Olympias felt a tingle of magic, as he entered and bowed politely. She didn't have to stretch herself to feel it. It would be deliberate, she was facing one of great power, perhaps more power than anyone she had ever met, and he wanted her to know it.

Could he have something to do with what they were to face?

He would have come a long way out of his way to see her here in her brother's rustic kingdom. He wanted something from her, that was obvious, but what?

"I am honoured to meet you, Queen of the Makedónes and mother of the heir to the throne." His voice was light and musical. Then he threw his hood back and smiled. His features were elf-like in their beauty: his eyes blue, his hair golden and his skin inhumanly white. His ears were pointed and elf-like but the neatly trimmed beard showed he was no elf.

Olympias when she beheld him, gasped with horror.

"You are not welcome here!" she hissed, almost spitting at him.

The stranger smiled and replied in a soft voice, "So you recognise my kind, witch of Ulandra. It seems all ancient knowledge is not lost."

Olympias flinched to hear her Goddess so named. "I had hoped the ancient tales were simply nightmares, or prayed your kind were no more."

"No, the tales were real and we Illvættir, as the elves once called us, do not age or die easily," the stranger said. "There were others ... but we ... er ... disagreed." He smiled again. "They wished to oppose me. It was, a … mistake.

"It has taken me a very long time, the rest had fled and they were very strong and cleverly hidden. But now, there is just me." He smiled. "I was always the most powerful and now I have become more powerful than you can possibly imagine. I no longer need the help of others."

"Do not think me a fool!" Olympias spat. "You say you have no need for others yet you are here for a reason."

"It's true. I have new, er … friends." The dark elf smiled and inclined his head.

Olympias shuddered. It's likely that his new friends had no idea what they were dealing with.

It was untold millennia ago, in an almost forgotten time, that there had been dozens of these dark raisers of daimôns.

She must send an urgent message to Antea. Antea had been right, if even one still survived, the sisters must put all enmity aside. Nothing could be more important.

"Whatever you want from me, you're wasting your time. Leave, before I call my guards."

"Ah," the stranger laughed. "Who said I want anything of you? And why would you call your guards? What could they possibly do to me?"

"You can be killed," Olympias said coldly.

"Not by anything you or your sisters have, I assure you. And the Elvish Prophecy says I will never be killed and never defeated, didn't you know that? By making myself the last of my kind on earth I have, well … ensured it.

"But you offer poor welcome for one who only comes out of concern for you, Great Queen. I only came to give you a warning. All your carefully laid plans are about to unravel."

"I think not!" Olympias replied angrily. "My husband has built the greatest kingdom of our time and my son is destined to surpass even him."

"Perhaps …" the stranger seemed to relish the word. "You are banished from Pella. You are already replaced as senior wife. Philippos has offered your brother the hand of your daughter. You don't know it yet but Philippos will soon talk to you of divorce. There is only one thing you can do."

Olympias smiled confidently at the stranger. "And you suggest?"

"Kill Philippos of course! It's your only option."

Olympias's laughter rang out.

"Kill my husband! So that is what you want me to do? You want me to kill my husband! Why, you have missed your calling. You should write comedy. You are a master of farce.

"Let my husband have his fun with this Makedóne slut and I will have my own entertainments. I have achieved all I need. My husband will never divorce me. He won't find himself free of me so easily."

"Great Queen." He bowed. "Nothing I say will convince you. It seems I am in error, and the oracle you consulted promised great things for your son. I must have been mistaken. I had thought the oracle had referred to a legitimate son of Philippos. Well, it's fortunate that Aléxandros is legitimate and the only legitimate son, isn't it?

"I did tell you, didn't I? Kleopatra will deliver her second child soon. But you already know that, don't you? As one gets old like me, you forget things.

"Now I remember! You have taken care of that, haven't you? It won't be a boy.

"You must know though there is another witch of greater power than you who opposes you. Oh, I see by your face you did not. She is clever. I am hunting her … I will find her, eventually." He shrugged, unconcerned. "Who do you think warned Jacinta about you, after all? Do you think she might have power over the sex of a child? It is one area of magic my kind never developed … so I'm not sure. Well, I'm sure everything will work out exactly as you wish it, I am sorry I have wasted your time. I will take my leave then. "

Olympias had gone very pale and was gripping the arms of her chair tightly. The stranger gave no indication of noticing.

He bowed gracefully and left.

* * *

The same stranger had found some way to travel from Ápeiros to Bithynia in Anatolē, arriving that same evening. He didn't have trouble slipping past the guards unseen and was relaxing in the tent when Attalus returned to sleep.

And, yes, Attalus had no idea who or what he was dealing with.

"Kleopatra has kept the child and will deliver soon, you say it will be a boy," Attalus said, smiling as he gave the man a purse containing a stash of silver coins.

"My Lord, as long as she wore the charm, it is guaranteed. It was made by a powerful šamán and I travelled far to fetch it," the stranger said in his soft voice. He took the purse and, as before, didn't check the contents.

"I will more than double what I promised if Kleopatra has a boy."

"My Lord, you are most generous. But as I have said, it is guaranteed." A hood concealed the stranger's features.

Attalus didn't know the man had no interest in the money he was paying him.

"You're not an elf, are you?" Attalus asked uncertainly, trying to make out his features in the poor light of the tent. At that, the stranger's laughter rang out.

"Let not the elves hear you calling me that."

He pulled his hood back. It showed him inhumanly fair with golden hair, blue eyes and elfin ears but a neatly trimmed beard. He must be one of the rare half-bloods, bred of human and elf, thought Attalus, though he had heard half breeds did not grow beards.

"Listen carefully to me, my Lord. After Kleopatra gives birth, someone will try to have Philippos killed. I suspect we both know who that will be.

"If they succeed, Olympias will move to kill Kleopatra and her child. The child must be protected. The only way will be to kill Olympias and her son. If Aléxandros is killed there is no argument, the child will be king and a regent appointed. "

He paused as if it something had just occurred to him, "Why, that would be you!"

The stranger didn't add that if the child died later, Attalus would be king.

He knew that Attalus wouldn't ever be king, at least not for long, but Attalus didn't know that either.

"Remember the prophecy says a son of Philippos will be greater than his father. Make sure the man that kills Philippos is captured alive. If Aléxandros manages to live after his father's death he will kill you my Lord."

The stranger bowed and left.

It was best if Philippos lived a decade. An older child would be more impressive than a newborn. Attalus shivered as he thought of all the risks. He was playing a dangerous game now but it was too late. If Philippos died too soon or Aléxandros survived and managed to hold the throne, he and all those he represented would be in terrible danger.

 

 

Chapter 14: Elpida's Court

"What is the meaning of this?" Hakeem thundered as he glared at the delegation of Troians assembled in front of him.

With the removal of the Athēnai threat, he had been able to reinforce Mysia. A large part of his new Greeks were not suitable for frontline duty but they would swell his local garrisons.

From a situation of desperation he could now take the initiative. Parmenion was bottled up in Bithynia with a little over 10,000 men. It would not take a large force to harass him but if Hakeem waited and Parmenion was reinforced with thirty-five thousand or more warriors, it would be a very different situation. The enemy could strike deep into Mysia and be able to besiege all their strong points. Hakeem would be forced into fighting defensively and would be seriously pressed.

He had sent any of the elite Greek units he had acquired to Abydos under Neros. He was able to release all the remaining elite Troian units from the defence of the Troad and send them to forward positions in Mysia. He had enough elves to cover the forest trails to guard against any incursions. He had sent most of the additional Shantawi and Aioli troops home but had increased the Shantawi mercenaries to two thousand men which gave him a large mobile force. And he had overwhelming naval superiority.

And now he was burning to leave Troia, to take the fight to the Makedónes.

All he needed to do before he could leave was to arrange for the integration of the Greek sailors and remaining Greek warriors into the existing Troian fleet and military garrisons and arrange for their training.

He didn't even need to stay to complete the process, Leandros would do that, and Helios and Leandros would organise the return and resettling of the evacuated civilians and deal with the influx of refugees fleeing Bithynia.

It all should have been simple, but all of a sudden nothing was simple.

Hakeem was sitting with Leandros in his newly refurbished "war room" in Troia. Elena, two of Leandros's senior Stratēgoi and several scribes were present. There was a jumble of maps, papers and wax tablets with estimates of troops, supplies, civilians and ships spread over a large desk.

A small delegation of five senior trièrarchoi (naval captains) had just been shown in. They had a petition to serve to the new Nauarchos (Admiral), Menelaos the Athenian.

They had not expected to be taken before the Warlord and their king, and they looked at each other a little nervously.

It was one thing talking loudly in the crowded kapeleion (taverna) and a very different matter having the Warlord facing them, their petition crushed in his hand and a look of fury on his face.

"My Lords," Antipatros started. He was the leader of the delegation and a Troian court noble. "I have a petition signed by no less than fifteen trièrarchoi (ships captains). We refuse to serve under the Athenian." Antipatros started to find his voice. "He attacked us. We are the ones who won the war. We demand all the Athēnai serve under Troian officers."

Hakeem had appointed Menelaos, an Athenian, to take charge of the combined navy.

Hakeem stared at him coldly. "I have read your petition. The war was never really against the Athēnai, it is against the Makedónes. If that war is won, it is news to me," he said softly.

Then he took a breath and continued quickly. "I accept your resignation, thank you all for your loyal service. We have more men than we have ships and will reallocate your ships and men accordingly. As for any other demands, I am not interested in demands from civilians. Now if you excuse us, we are all rather busy."

"You cannot do that!" Antipatros shouted in shock and outrage. "I built five of those ships out of my own money."

"Lord Antipatros, no one is taking anything away from you or the other men on the petition," Leandros cut in to explain. "You have presented a letter of resignation, Hakeem has accepted it. That doesn't include those ships because you had donated them. I'm sure you don't mean to say to me you regret being patriotic, or would want the return of a gift to me and your people.

"The audience is over."

Antipatros started to protest. Hakeem leapt to his feet and drew his sword. As he started to move in the direction of the naval captains, his guard hurried to join him.

"You are resigning while we are in the middle of fighting a war. Do you think this is forgiven?" Hakeem said quietly, a dangerous look in his eyes. He began swinging the sword in gentle movements through the air.

"We are too busy to decide on a suitable punishment at present. If I were you, I would be now finding ways to demonstrate your unconditional loyalty to your king between now and when we have time to remember what you have done. You have been told to leave. Now would not be a good time to cause further trouble or I might decide to settle this matter NOW!" His eyes darted in an arc from the tip of his sword to the back of Antipatros' neck and then onto the floor at the man's feet.

Suddenly they were in a hurry to leave.

Leandros glanced at Hakeem after they had left. "I would not have done that. He is a pain in the kolos, but he is a rich and powerful man."

Hakeem shrugged. "He is not a rich and powerful man if he is dead. I don't want powerful men who have a powerful sense of their own importance. I want the best leaders I can get. Even your own navy agrees Menelaos is the best."

"After you bullied them into admitting it!" Leandros smiled. "You would not have killed them during an audience would you, Hakeem?"

"I would have," Hakeem admitted. "I don't want to lose this war because of their silly games."

He paused for a moment. "What by all the Gods is wrong with your Troians, Lord? They should be rejoicing that we are standing on two feet.

"Instead of just surviving, now with Apollōn's help, we have a large army eager to join our fight, but all I hear is petty whinging. We have real problems to deal with." He started to pace again agitatedly. "There are refugees everywhere. We need to get the farms, the fishing and trade back in order and I need to attack Parmenion before Philippos and Aléxandros can join him.

"Everybody seems to feel they can bring their paltry grievances directly to me, but mostly they are excuses for inflated egos or I get wastrel sons of nobles and merchants demanding to join in positions of command. Where were they when we were facing certain defeat?

"And if I want to put an Athenian in charge of a mixed unit, the howls can be heard all the way to Abydos."

It was not the first time Hakeem felt like drawing his sword and making war on his own officers or leaping onto Nadeer and galloping back to his desert home. It was the first time he came close to doing anything.

"What's so amusing?" Hakeem asked.

Leandros and Elena were trying to hide smiles.

"You are, my darling," Elena said. "It seems all you want to do in a war is to fight the enemy."

Hakeem sighed. "Perhaps I am not good with these sorts of things. They all make me want to tear my beard out."

Leandros laughed. "On the contrary, you are doing a wonderful job. You have done things I would not have dared do, even though I am their king. You have quite a reputation and everyone is scared of you. Well, can we get back to you explaining your plans?"

"I've said most of it." Hakeem said tiredly. "I'm most worried that Philippos or Aléxandros will arrive in Bithynia any day,"

"Philippos will not let Aléxandros come here without him, and he will stay for the wedding. It is in October." Leandros said.

"Philippos will not stop for a wedding!" Hakeem shouted. "The whole idea was preposterous. It has to be some trick."

"You are wrong, my young friend. He will stay for the wedding," Leandros said quietly with a confident smile.

* * *

A visit from Helios was a welcome diversion from the frustrations Hakeem was having. He looked forward to the chance of having Helios to complain to, but when he told his mentor and friend some of the problems he was having all Helios did was laugh. The story of Hakeem drawing his sword on a delegation of nobles was already famous.

To everyone's delight, Helios brought his wife, Nikoleta, and the tiny newborn princess. The two proud parents had named her "Elpida", after the spirit of hope.

The bearer of such an auspicious name seemed in no way troubled by it, nor was she worried by the disruption she brought to Leandros's court. She mostly slept and fed and, well, er …

It was more correct to say the arrival of the tiny baby was greeted with delight by almost everyone at the court.

Since the death of Leandros's wife, there was no "ladies' court" at Troia. There were no grand balls and none of the sort of entertainments that women especially liked. The main section of the king's citadel had not seen babies since Leandros's sons were small.

Leandros, for one, had never quite understood the fuss made over babies. He loved his sons, but only after they were able to talk sensibly and do interesting things.

Suddenly, Leandros found Helios's tiny daughter had taken over his whole court. It had become became Elpida's court!

Everywhere he went, it seemed were women; excited women, women talking about pregnancy and babies, women knitting, sewing, taking refreshments and gossiping. Where did all these extra noble women come from? They filled the palace.

He had had to beat a hasty retreat.

And he could hardly get any of his usual women servants to do anything unless he asked them directly. They were busy, it was true, but it was no longer with fussing over his needs.

He was explaining this to Hakeem, as they were taking refuge in one of his libraries.

"It's like some sort of arcane cult. Baby worshipers! It has established a temple in my audience chamber! … Or wherever that baby happens to be.

"Distant cousins and nieces that I never knew properly, and other noble women have appeared out of nowhere. Women initiates everywhere and they have taken over.

"This baby worshipping has its own rituals. There has to be long periods of beaming at the baby and chatting about babies. Everyone has to have exaggerated facial expressions and they make strange ridiculous noises no grown adult should ever make! 'Aww … sooo cute … Helloooo…' " he mimicked and then snorted disgustedly.

"And if there is even the slightest response they all get so excited! Most of the time the baby just sleeps."

Leandros was doggedly trying to continue his routine, in protest. He and Hakeem were discussing agricultural supplies. They had a number of clay and wax tablets spread out on the floor as Leandros explained his plans.

Unfortunately the king's basilikós grammateús (royal secretary) was ill, so it was all going exceptionally slowly. They really should have given it up, but Leandros was grimly determined to press on despite all the distractions.

Hakeem would normally be interested in supplies for the army and displaced civilians, but he wasn't able to contribute much and was being mainly used as a sounding board. Even Leandros didn't seem to be in the mood. He spent more time complaining rather than focusing on agricultural produce.

"That's all babies do!" Leandros continued. "They sleep, they wake, they feed, they pee and they make a mess. What's so interesting in that?"

As he was speaking, it occurred to him that Hakeem had been doing nothing more than agree with him, and he had been this way most of the morning.

"Are you even listening to what I am saying?"

"Of course, Great King!" Hakeem stifled a yawn and managed to look offended.

Then Leandros noticed out of the corner of his eye a dreamy look come over Hakeem's face. Hakeem's thoughts had returned to a certain tiny hand and how each little finger looked so perfect and yet so small.

"Is something wrong, Great King?" Hakeem asked distractedly.

"Don't you 'Great King' me, you big oaf! You're agreeing with everything I say! I can't believe it, the fierce Warlord acting like a nesting fowl."

Hakeem looked at Leandros, for a moment perplexed. "Do you wish me to disagree with you, great Lord?"

Just then Jacinta poked her nose in and rescued Leandros from having to make some reply.

She had her mother in tow. Elena stood very quietly by her daughter's side. It struck Leandros that Elena at least wasn't caught up with the "baby mania" gripping the court.

She seemed, out of all the women, the only who had remained sensible. Perhaps it was an elf thing … no, her sister Seléne and Seléne's red haired elf maid had become just as silly headed as the rest of the women.

"Nikoleta said Elpida is due for a bath and she said I could help," Jacinta said breathlessly. "Do you want to come, Father? You said you wanted to see how babies were bathed."

Hakeem squirmed uncomfortably and looked sheepishly at Leandros. "Not this time, meli (honey). We are busy here."

Hakeem? Our Warlord , wanting to watch a baby being bathed? Leandros couldn't believe it.

"Go on, man!" he growled. "You're no use to me anyway! It's only affairs of state and fighting a war, curse you. It can hardly be as important as a baby's bath, can it?"

Hakeem completely missed the sarcasm. "Thank you, Lord. Can we catch up with this later if you need me?" He knew Leandros really didn't need him.

Hakeem smiled and chuckled a little self-consciously. "You never know. Just maybe, one day, I might have my own baby. Then I'll have to know just what to do."

Leandros was just about to say, "That's for servants." But he saw the elf queen's face. Elena was staring at Hakeem with a look of naked anguish.

"What did you just say?" she asked in a small, hurt voice. "What did you say?"

She looked stricken and was struggling against tears. Then she spun and ran blindly from the room; they could hear her wailing as she raced down the corridor.

Jacinta and Hakeem looked at one another, appalled.

"Did you know?" Jacinta asked Hakeem.

Hakeem shook his head in misery. He felt as if his friend, Omar, had hit him with his quarter staff full-force in the stomach. His world had suddenly dropped out from under him.

Jacinta started to turn for the door.

"Just me for now," Hakeem said, standing up.

He sighed very deeply and then began marching to his quarters with a grim look on his face. Jacinta stood for a moment looking deeply troubled and then turned reluctantly. She walked slowly, dispirited now, to help with Elpida.

Leandros sat stunned with his mouth open. What on earth had upset Elena so much? He sat gloomily, thinking. The accounts of farm produce lay ignored at his feet.

* * *

Hakeem could hear sounds of sobbing from his wife as he approached the bedroom.

"Elena, I need to talk to you," he called from just outside.

All sound stopped for a moment then an angry voice called out, "Keep away from me! I hate you!"

Hakeem felt a strong cowardly impulse to give Elena "some time to sort it out."

Instead he called out loudly, "I'm coming in."

He poked his head around the door to see a furious elf glaring at him with hate in her eyes. She had just gotten off her bed. Her hands were held rigidly at her sides, balled into fists, her hair was mussed and her cheeks were wet with tears.

Eudokia was sitting on her mistress' bed in shock. All Elena was able to say to her was that Hakeem had hurt her badly. Hakeem had seemed gentle, but it was widely known he was a dangerous man and a barbarian.

Eudokia knew all about men hitting their wives, but Elena was a royal elf!

The thought was horrifying.

Hakeem took a few uncertain steps into the room. Elena moved, as quick as cat.

"Don't you dare come near me!" she shrieked.

Hakeem found a brass vase flying straight at his face. Only his lightning-fast reflexes saved him. It was thrown with the accuracy and force of an elf.

As he ducked and blocked, it hit the wall with a loud "clang-clang" and bounced. He straightened up only to find an earthen jug was following the vase. It smashed against the wall as he batted it away with his open palm. What exactly had upset Elena so much?

Then Elena screamed and Hakeem saw movement from the corner of his eye. Eudokia was swinging at him two handed with a heavy brass fire poker.

"You will leave her alone, you barbarian!" Eudokia shrieked.

Hakeem easily caught the poker and gripped Eudokia's wrist in a grip of iron.

"You could have hurt him, Eudokia!" Elena was screaming frantically. "Don't you dare hurt Eudokia, you brute." for a moment she was unsure who she needed to protect from whom.

Eudokia tried to keep hold of the poker but Hakeem removed it from her as if she was a child. He held it between his two hands and grunted. His muscles bulged. The thick heavy poker slowly bent before Eudokia's disbelieving gaze. When it was bent back in on itself, he passed it back. Eudokia stood and stared at the ruined poker in her hands, completely lost as to what to do with it.

"Eudokia?" Hakeem said kindly and gently. "Can I have a moment with my wife?"

Eudokia looked uncertain. Elena was back to glaring at Hakeem.

"LEAVE US!" Hakeem commanded loudly. Eudokia dropped the ruined poker and fled.

"Yes, the great Warlord wants time with his b-b-barren wife!" Elena called loudly after her. "I don't know why he bothers!"

Hakeem looked at Elena in shocked realisation. So that was it.

"Elena, darling! You're being silly."

It wasn't the best thing he could have said.

Elena backed up in her bed as far from him as she could get. "So now I'm stupid as well as barren!" she screamed at the top of her voice, her face flushed with anger.

Hakeem took a big breath and for a moment his eyes flashed up at the ceiling. "Elena, I said something to hurt you. I'm sorry. It seems you believe you are barren."

Elena eyed him accusingly. "Don't play innocent with me." she shouted. "It was you who said it. You said one day you might have children. I was there for the Goddess' sake."

Hakeem was puzzled. One day, he had said, they might have children. How was that hurtful?

"You didn't say WE! You said YOU might have children. I know what you are thinking." Elena yelled. "Don't you even bother denying it."

Hakeem slapped his forehead in frustration.

"Darling," he started patiently. "It's only been fifteen months!"

"Yes and how many days, Hakeem?" She put her hands on her hips and stared at him with intense suspicion. "Do you think I don't know you have been counting? The other day you knew exactly when my bleeding time was. I caught that look of disappointment."

Hakeem considered making a joke.

Could he mention the other reason why men would know when their wife's bleeding time occurred, or another reason why they might be disappointed?

It didn't seem the time for jokes.

He looked at her sheepishly and nodded. Elena was right; he was counting … and hoping.

"Elena, elf women don't have as many babies as humans do and ever since we met we have been fighting for our lives. Women don't fall pregnant when they are worried and stressed," he said tiredly, sitting on the edge of their bed.

"And who gave you that advice, may I ask?" Elena countered coldly, screwing her face up in anger and moving well away from him.

Hakeem coughed and coloured. He had a feeling he had just walked into a trap of his own making. "Nikoleta," he admitted.

"SO YOU SPREAD NEWS OF OUR INFERTILITY AROUND HELIOS'S COURT!" Elena screamed loudly, completely outraged.

Yes, and you shout about it at the top of your voice!

He paused. "I'm so sorry, Elena. I didn't mean to hurt you. Nikoleta has been like an older sister to me and you must know Nikoleta, more than anyone, would understand."

"There is a law amongst humans," Elena said standing stiffly. "If a king marries, and his wife can give him no children within a year, he can put her aside."

Hakeem surged to his feet, his face darkened. It was his turn to be angry. "You insult me, woman! I am not a king and there is no such law in the Shantawi. I am a Shayvist."

He straightened his shoulders and drew a breath.

"If you cannot have children that is my Karma as well as yours. It is a problem shared."

The two of them were standing there just glaring at each other when they heard the rushing of feet and the clatter of weapons being drawn. Four soldiers burst breathlessly into the room … and then paused, confused.

"Arrest him, he hit her!" Eudokia yelled triumphantly, pointing to Hakeem.

Hakeem and the men stared at her, perplexed. She wanted a corporal and three privates to arrest their Warlord ? (Apart from the impossibility if Hakeem didn't want to be arrested.)

Elena finally relaxed and laughed. "Thank you corporal, that won't be needed … at least not yet."

"Eudokia," she added, as the men filed out shaking their heads. "Hakeem did not hit me. Do you really think he would do that? And do you think I would be standing if he did? He doesn't do those sorts of things, and besides, he loves me."

She smiled at Hakeem. "We were just having a discussion, that's all."

Hakeem looked at the ruined brass jug and the shards of crockery scattered all over the floor. This was Elena's idea of a discussion?

He walked across to Eudokia who looked absolutely terrified. She flinched away but he caught her arms firmly.

"Eudokia, I will not hurt you for what you tried to do. You were never in any real danger of hurting me. Though I can't say the same about your mistress here." He nodded over his shoulder to Elena with a wry smile. "I am grateful to you for the love you bear my wife such that you would face even me. But please remember in future that Elena's the only one allowed to attack me."

He gave her a small kiss on the forehead and released her. She felt around shakily for a small thronos (stool) and plonked herself down on it, looking faint and ill.

"Eudokia," Hakeem continued gently. "Elena and I are both worried that we have not conceived a child. We are both of us sometimes not very clever, as I'm sure our daughter will explain to you, if you ask her.

"We both thought, I don't know how, that we could try to hide our fears from each other. Elena blames herself. I made a remark which she took to mean I blamed her. I don't.

"Now please leave, so a man and the beautiful wife he loves can talk, without you calling the whole Troian army into the discussion."

He came back to his wife and took her in his arms and stared deeply into her eyes. "It doesn't matter," he said softly. They didn't see Eudokia stand and leave on unsteady feet.

"Liar," Elena said without heat. "You should see yourself." She smiled up at him fondly, moving closer. She put her head on his shoulder and he brushed her hair with his hand.

"I mean it, Elena. I am the luckiest man in the world, I have you and we have our daughter and every single child under my protection is also mine. Now why do you say you are barren?"

"Oh Hakeem!" She melted into him and he sat with her for some time, rocking her as if she were a child. "I only ever wanted to give you children," she said tearfully. "What am … no, what are we going to do? After we married and adopted Jacinta I thought about the words of the prophecy and what they actually meant."

The words of the prophecy flashed through Hakeem's mind. "She will be a dragon queen but the last of her line …"

Then he understood.

It meant she would have no children that would succeed her to the throne.

"You could abdicate," Hakeem said softly.

"I promised I wouldn't," Elena replied. "But as long as I am an elf of royal blood, I will have a 'line', even if I do abdicate. It must have been the infection after I lost the baby. I cannot have children, Hakeem."

"Who said it is your problem?" He smiled at her coyly. "I ride horses."

That, at least, got a soft laugh. "You tribesmen breed like rabbits. Maybe I shouldn't wish for children, the prophecy means they won't outlive me."

For the moment Hakeem decided he had heard more than enough about prophecies. "If we are blessed with a child, we will not dwell on the prophecy but we will live our life each precious day at a time. Maybe you will live to over a hundred; the elves of old lived even longer.

"If you or Jacinta died, it would tear my heart out but I would never regret loving you or regret that either of you were born. If we don't have children, I am still the luckiest man in the world."

Elena replied by kissing him hungrily. "It's the middle of my cycle … which is a good time." She smiled shyly at him.

Hakeem poked his nose out to find Eudokia a little way down the corridor looking considerably chastened. He asked for a flat cushion and commanded they were not disturbed for at least an hour.

A cushion? That old wives' tale? Eudokia nonetheless scurried to obey.

After she and Hakeem made passionate love Elena reached for the cushion and placed it firmly under her buttocks. It tilted her pelvis to give Hakeem's essence the best chance to penetrate her. She lay there contented, with a dreamy smile on her face.

Hakeem emerged from the room grinning broadly. He gave Eudokia a cheerful wink as he made off in search of Jacinta. "You can go in now," he told her unnecessarily.

* * *

They were in their bed room the next morning and Elena had at last found the solution to their "problem". She was seated with a serene look on her face trying to explain it to Hakeem while Hakeem, completely outraged, his face flushed, was stalking back and forward.

She had never seen him quite so angry.

"NO!" he thundered.

He struck his palm down on the table with a mighty "clap" that echoed through the room.

"Are you crazy, woman? I am NOT going to take a second wife!"

"But darling, I will choose her. I'll find someone nice, someone we will both like," Elena replied with smug satisfaction.

Hakeem looked at her in pure horror.

"When I visited Djorn, I would have liked to be a second wife. You are a tribesman, you can have three wives."

For Hakeem, loving another woman was impossible.

Besides (as much as he loved his present wife) the thought just now of having another one of them made him want to throw himself off a cliff.

"I WILL BE DOING NO SUCH THING AND WE WILL NEVER DISCUSS THIS AGAIN!" Hakeem roared. He stalked out.

Elena had never made him so angry before, he was almost beside himself with rage.

Alright, she thought. She had got his message, Hakeem needed a little time to get used to the idea.

* * *

The visit of Helios and Nikoleta (and Elpida) was three weeks past when Hakeem finally felt he was sufficiently free to travel to Abydos. Leandros would remain in Troia. His friend was getting old. Leandros could handle affairs at home base better than Hakeem, but there were just a few things that Hakeem had to personally attend to before he could leave.

"Hakeem, no!" said Seléne facing off against the big tribesman. "Don't you dare!"

Hakeem had been paying a visit to Pericles but soon after he arrived, Seléne had come to visit. His sister-in-law became instantly suspicious when she found Hakeem wanted to speak to Pericles alone.

Hakeem merely looked at her with an expression of innocence. "Seléne, meli, all I said was I want to talk to Pericles alone. Why do you women always think it's about you?"

"Well, you obviously won't mind me being present then. Since when did you become my father?"

Hakeem merely waited patiently, his eyebrows raised in enquiry. Seléne hesitated for a few moments, then after glaring angrily at Hakeem and turning bright red. She spun on her heels and flounced off with a "Humph!" and as much dignity as she could summon.

She wasn't a child after all, she was sixteen!

Hakeem shook his head as she departed and glanced at Pericles. Pericles was regaining his strength and had been gently exercising earlier but now he was lying on his kline (couch-bed) looking exhausted. He had to sit up just to stay awake.

"Why does she think I want to talk to you about her?" Hakeem asked, shaking his head. "Now, where were we?"

"Seléne, I think," said Pericles. "I know some of what you want to say. Seléne has been hurt. I won't let anyone hurt her again, not even myself.. I know she's young, but I care for her, I care for her a lot. "

Hakeem sat heavily on the edge of the bed, grateful for Pericles' understanding.

"You don't hold against her what Nikan has done, do you?" he asked anxiously.

"Blame a young girl for being a helpless victim? That's horrible!" Pericles replied with anger.

"I agree, but many would. You are a remarkable man, my friend." Hakeem took Pericles' hand fondly between his two large hands. "I love Seléne very much but I have no intention of running her life. She should be full of laughter and fun, well she is, but she's been through things no one, no one her age, should have had to go through.

"I fear it has left a mark. Please look after her while I'm away, I don't want her hurt again. I know I can trust you." Pericles nodded and thanked him.

So he wasn't being warned off.

Pericles felt a surge of rage at how Nikan had treated her. "Is that why you killed him?"

Hakeem looked startled. "Nikan? No, of course not, I would have left him to my friend Héctor but the situation changed and it became necessary."

"That brings me to something that puzzles me," Pericles started. "We were your enemy. Why were you so desperate to save us?"

Hakeem looked a bit surprised to be asked this. "I never meant that awful slaughter. The attack collapsed and your army was finished. I felt most would not fight us again, and a good number would want to help us. I had no idea that part would work out as well as it did."

"But we were your enemy, didn't you hate us?"

Hakeem shook his head, "Why would I hate you? I had to stop you, of course."

"What if it was necessary?" Pericles asked. "What if it was necessary that each and every one of us had to die? What if it is necessary to kill me right now?"

Hakeem looked at Pericles, completely puzzled. Was he being asked a question?

A chill came over Pericles.

Hakeem could be kind, but when the need came, he would kill without the slightest hesitation. Seléne had said Hakeem was the most terrifying man she had ever met. Pericles was glad they were on the same side. He just hoped Hakeem would never find that darker side of himself that many great leaders found.

Hakeem almost tripped over his sister-in-law as he exited Pericles' room.

"Well," Seléne demanded, "what did you talk about?"

"Nothing much, military things mostly," said Hakeem, gesturing vaguely.

No, he didn't threaten Pericles. No, he didn't warn him off. No, and he didn't say she was too young. Yes, he did mention Nikan. No, he didn't …

Seléne looked at Hakeem in confusion. "Well, what did you say?"

"I did say one thing."

"And what was that?" asked Seléne, hands on her hips, frowning and eyeing her brother-in-law suspiciously.

"I said I loved you very much. Oh, and I almost forgot. I have a present for you!"

Seléne suspected Hakeem was changing the topic. It seemed not as much damage was done as she had feared. She really didn't expect someone as old as Hakeem to understand anything about being young.

Then she made a delighted squeal that sounded so much like Elena that it brought a tear to Hakeem's eye as he smiled down at her.

"It's perfume. It's from Kana'ān. They said you'd like it," he said unnecessarily. "I didn't give you anything for your sixteenth birthday."

"Oh, I do like it," Seléne cried excitedly, giving the tribesman a big hug and kiss.

"Little sister," Hakeem said. "May the Great Mother watch over you while I am gone. I am leaving a few elf warriors here and you have your maid. Leandros will be taking command here and he will look after you as his own.

"I'm sure you've noticed, at the moment elves are very popular here indeed. The common people get tremendously excited by the glimpse of a royal elf in particular.

"They believe it was the return of elves that saved Troia. In many ways it was, and the name Seléne is especially revered. If you go out in the street, expect a huge and friendly crowd, and I mean huge! I would be very grateful if you make a lot of public appearances. It would be difficult to overestimate the impact the name 'Seléne' has on morale here at the moment.

"I have an important task for you. I don't know quite how to ask you but it is really important. You will be the only royal lady in Troia. It is a long time since this palace had grand balls, and some of the towns around here, it's a long time since they had dances or festivals and celebrations. I want you to organise them, Leandros will help you. I've explained it all to him."

"Dances? That's the task you have for me? Dances? Is that all you think I'm good for? I thought you were going to ask me to help you fight the war." Seléne was incredulous and hurt.

"This is about fighting the war, and I couldn't be more serious!" He took Seléne by the shoulders and looked seriously into her eyes until she could see he meant it. "It really is important. Not just for this war against the Makedónes but for the one to come."

Seléne waited for Hakeem to explain how festivals and dances would help him win the war.

"Seléne, what did I get when the Athēnai decided to join us?"

"Well," Seléne said, thinking. "Well, between the sailors and the infantry, you got almost ten thousand ... Oh! … Hakeem no!" It had suddenly hit her.

She broke into a fit of giggles. "Hakeem, you can't mean …"

Then she was overcome with helpless laughing and clutched at her brother-in-law for support. Seléne couldn't continue; every time she looked at Hakeem standing there stiffly, trying to maintain his dignity, she began laughing again.

This was absolutely delicious.

Hakeem coughed, and sniffed, blushing through his dark complexion. "We are facing a series of wars, not just this one. I need Troia to be strong.

"And, er, well. Ahem … a whole generation of men were lost to Troia in the last war. The Troad has a … er, surplus of young widows and unmarried women. The Goddess in her wisdom didn't just give me Greek soldiers and sailors. She gave me, including some of the walking wounded, perhaps eight thousand or more eligible bachelors."

(Most Greek don't get married till they have finished a period of service in the army).

"So, er , you see … I … er … we … well … er." Hakeem was making heavy work of it but he pressed determinedly on. Seléne laughing in his face wasn't helping.

"I want the Troian women to, er … mingle … I guess … er ... with my Greeks. If it's necessary, I'll make it compulsory to attend the dances. I will say it's reassuring the local populace or something."

"Oh, Hakeem! Hakeem!" Seléne managed eventually. Tears, from laughing, were rolling down her face. "Hakeem, the matchmaking old crone; you really have made my day. Do you honestly think you can plan everything ... no, don't bother answering, I know you do."

"I really mean it! It's important!" Hakeem assured her desperately, his face burning with embarrassment. "I simply can't lose any of my Greeks.

"Please Seléne," he pleaded. "I need them."

Seléne smiled back impishly. "Well, if the Troian women I have met are anything to judge by, you won't be losing too many at all. Even some of the Greeks who thought they were lovers of men as I hear is common amongst them … well, they are in for a big surprise when the Troian women finish with them.

"Don't worry, if I didn't do it for you, I'd do it for them. Us women have to stick together, you know."

"Oh Seléne, thank you," said Hakeem, feeling enormously relieved. "And I hope you don't mind … I asked Pericles to take special care of you while I'm away."

Seléne gave Hakeem a fond, exasperated smile and ducked her head past the door. "Well, just at the moment my mighty protector is asleep again. He looks like he is the one who needs the looking after." She paused suspiciously as a thought occurred to her.

"Hakeem, I hope you're not trying to set me up as well by any chance!" she asked indignantly.

In truth, Hakeem had not considered this. Hakeem went even more crimson, if possible, and started to shake his head and stutter his denial. Seléne put her finger on his lips to shut him up and kissed him.

"Hakeem, you know I love you. For all our sakes, may the Mother look after you." She gave him a last hug and kiss before he went to make plans for his departure.

There was one final task he had to see to before he could say his final goodbye, a loose end that he had to attend to personally. Leandros was appalled when he heard what Hakeem had planned to do. It resulted in a huge argument, but Hakeem was adamant. It had to be done, and he would attend to it this very night.

* * *

"I know why you are here," Apollo said. He looked old, and defeated.

He could hardly sleep. His name was ruined. Apollo's former friends, even business acquaintances, wanted nothing to do with him. His servants had mostly fled and the huge house was empty and poorly lit at this hour.

Apollo had taken a huge risk in opposing the Warlord . He skirted treason and then openly voiced treason. It hadn't seemed important at the time.

He would be charged, he knew. He would hang.

Apollo had not thought about it till it was too late, but his personal wealth would also be forfeit. Apollo had worked day and night to get where he was and now Aison, the last surviving member of his family, would be left penniless. Aison would be surrounded by powerful enemies and no one would lift a hand to help him.

The figure of Hakeem sat partly in the shadow across from him. A single oil lamp flickered to illuminate the room.

Hakeem smiled. "I'm surprised you expected me. You have made a bit of a habit of underestimating me."

"I guess I deserve that," Apollo acknowledged.

Not expect a visit from Hakeem or one of his henchmen? It wasn't that complicated, was it? "I'm sorry we were on opposing sides," Apollo said sincerely.

"I have come to correct that problem," Hakeem said firmly. He smiled with obvious satisfaction.

Apollo couldn't stop a surge of fear. He tried to keep his voice even.

"You're a deadly person to get on the wrong side of," he said quietly.

Hakeem laughed and gestured helplessly. "Some might say so."

Most of whom are dead.

"I suppose I should feel complimented to get your personal attention."

"Apollo," Hakeem chuckled. "It is unlike you to underestimate your own importance. You must realise this is something I couldn't leave to anyone else."

"I want you to know, what I did, I did for Troia. I never knew about the spy in my house."

"Apollo, of course I know that," Hakeem said gently. "I always knew you were a patriot."

"You know, hearing that from you makes it easier. Well, am I to face a trial now?"

Hakeem looked a bit startled. "There can be no trial! Troia needs to be united and strong. The last thing we can afford is a trial for treason. The king was appalled when he heard what I intended, but he'll get over it. I thought for a moment he really would dismiss me.

"You really should have been more careful in how you treat your king, Apollo. He can be a powerful enemy."

Apollo felt a chill to hear this. Hakeem had come without his bodyguard, so no witnesses. It was so like Hakeem to do this personally.

"You are a cold-hearted bastard, if there ever was one," Apollo said, not unkindly.

He realised he was facing one of the coldest killers he had ever met.

"You mean coming here like this? People tell me I am. Sometimes I simply don't understand how others think."

"You have won! You are proven right, nothing can touch you now. Whatever you do." Apollo said bitterly.

Hakeem nodded laughing. "So they say. I haven't actually proven you wrong yet about the Makedónes. I intend to, but yes, for the moment, it seems I can do little wrong."

"What will happen to Aison?"

Hakeem looked a bit puzzled. "I can guarantee Aison will carry no stain from all that has happened. He is young and strong, he will forget soon enough. If there is any problem, I will see to Aison personally … Don't look like that! I don't mean harm to Aison.

"I have to ask you, though would you trust me now if I do not tell you all I was doing?"

Apollo glared at Hakeem, for the moment more angry than scared. "No I would not! Don't you understand that by now?"

"So, there would be more awkward questions? In a way, I'm glad you say that. I wouldn't want it any other way. Of course, you give me very little choice. I think you will approve of what I plan now. Many of your ideas and mine are not as different as you believed." Hakeem smiled broadly and relaxed back. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

"I very much doubt that, but I won't be around to worry about it, will I?"

Hakeem jerked forward and looked at the older man with sudden concern. "Are you ill? Do you need a healer?"

It was Apollo's turn to look puzzled. "No, I'm well."

"Oh," Hakeem said in understanding. "Your age. Don't worry about that, you are still strong. I expect things will move too quickly for you to die of old age." He laughed. "I have got Leandros to agree to give you a special commendation for 'secret tasks performed in the war with Athēnai'.

"Do you like it? I thought it rather clever. He looked like I had asked him to eat mud, I can tell you. Everyone will assume you were in on the conspiracy from the start and knew about the spy in your house. No one will be able to ask you openly. So you will lose nothing from what happened."

He finished with an engaging smile. "Now, what do you say, Apollo?"

Apollo looked in shock at the face of the man he thought was his bitter adversary. "Hakeem, what are we talking about?"

"But you said you knew why I came. I need your help rebuilding Troia, of course. You are the obvious choice. You are a brilliant businessman and a fierce patriot. I want to appoint you as a special advisor to myself and Leandros.

"Didn't you just insist I keep you briefed on my plans this time around? Didn't you just say I was cold blooded for not holding the past against you? What on earth did you think I was here for?"

"You know, I thought you had come to kill me," Apollo said, laughing. "Help you? It would be an honour. As you may gather it is an unexpected honour. You also have my respect, though I admit I have been slow to come to it and poor in showing it."

"By the Gods, man!" Hakeem exclaimed incredulously. "It was me who had to convince Leandros not to hang you or any of your foolish friends. You have really managed to annoy your king, Apollo. I have rarely had an argument with a king and never such an argument. I very nearly had to threaten to resign. But as you said, at least for the moment, I can do no wrong.

"I insisted my job as protector of the city wasn't limited to men and arms. To defend Troia we need wealth and prosperity to come back. I am offering you what I believe is one of the most important jobs in the whole kingdom. I really need you … we all need you.

"But murder you? Harm Aison, because of that thing with my daughter? Or because you argued against me? What sort of monster did you take me for?"

Apollo had the good grace not to reply. He smiled sheepishly at Hakeem.

"My lord, Hakeem, you do me great honour," was all he could manage.

Hakeem visibly relaxed. "I must say, I'm relieved. I feared you might refuse.

"You realise you may have to be persistent just to do your job, don't you? Sometimes you might even have to annoy me."

Apollo smiled at someone he had underestimated for far too long, someone destined to be his Lord and great friend. "I think I can manage that, my Lord."

* * *

It was the morning of the day they would leave.

Jacinta was in her room when Hakeem went to talk to her.

The main coastal route followed the Simoeis, a tributary of the Skamandros, and joined the road that went up the valley. They would leave together so that everyone would think Elena and Jacinta were going to Abydos.

Jacinta and her mother would continue further up the valley to search for the ruins of Elvish Troia and Hakeem would take the turn to Abydos.

"I'll miss you and your mother terribly," Hakeem said. "Look after her for me, Jacinta."

Jacinta wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him.

"Father, you are the one going into danger. For all our sakes, be careful."

"Where I am going will become a very dangerous place; that I will guarantee you, but only for our enemies," Hakeem said grimly. "I don't intend to let the Makedónes make it dangerous for me. Let's not talk about war for the moment.

"Since I first met you, you have brought me so much happiness and made me so proud. Some might see me as cursed to live in these dark times, and bearing such a great burden. But I see myself as blessed, blessed by my family and my friends, blessed by the people we fight for. But I'm especially blessed to have you … you and your mother."

Jacinta started to cry as they hugged each other. "I love you, Father!" she whispered through her tears.

* * *

Elena sat waiting for Hakeem on their balcony. A light sea breeze made it pleasant. She smiled as he approached. She couldn't imagine what it would be like without the big man beside her or his strong arms around her but elves don't feel the same need to say what others already knew.

Without being asked, Eudokia had left a pot of tea and a single cup out. Eudokia particularly went out of her way to be thoughtful towards Hakeem lately. She obviously completely adored the big man … especially somehow in the aftermath of trying to kill him with a poker.

"I will think of you every day we are apart," Hakeem said as he poured his first cup.

Elena nodded. "Just keep yourself safe, my love."

"It's not me you'll have to worry about, it's our enemies." Hakeem laughed. "I was trained by an elf … two in fact."

Elena laughed a little. "The student has surpassed his masters. I know I don't have to tell you, but don't take risks. I would not want to live if you are killed." She got up and moved over to sit on his lap and she put her arms around him and kissed him.

* * *

The men were already assembled just inside the palace gates when Hakeem, Elena and Jacinta joined them. Hakeem had his personal bodyguard, a century of tribesmen. Elena's bodyguard was mostly on foot as she would be moving more slowly. There was a century of her elves under Drakon (Dragon) and a century of Hakeem's sworn Greek peltastae, led by Galenos. There were carts and a score of workmen nervously waiting as well.

Hakeem and Elena made a special point of not only greeting the troops but also going amongst the workmen, personally greeting each one by name and thanking them, each and every one.

The workmen all stood proudly at attention, beaming as their families looked on. They would die for the elf queen!

Elena fully intended not to let that happen. She would get them to safety if there was the slightest sign of danger.

Finally Hakeem, Elena and Jacinta mounted and Hakeem signalled for the advanced scouts to set out. The rest followed at a slow pace as they headed up the Troad.

* * *

Philippos gazed into Olympias's face and felt breathless. He had planned to greet her more coldly, but before he even realised what he was doing, he had gotten off his throne and rushed to meet her halfway and take her in his arms. She had lost none of her power over him. Back in her presence, he wondered why he had bothered with his new wife, Kleopatra Eurydíkē.

"You're a bit older, wife," he murmured.

Olympias pulled back and laughed. "Well, look at you, old horse. Perhaps you should start acting your age instead of chasing those young sluts!"

Philippos just smiled ruefully at her comment; he was blind in his right eye from an arrow wound and wore a patch. He limped from an old spear wound in his right thigh and an old fracture of his left leg that hadn't healed straight.

He was only forty-six but his beard and hair were already showing a heavy dusting of grey.

"Well wife, and what would you have of an old warrior? It's our old scars that make us desirable to women."

Olympias laughed and ran her fingers lightly over his face and his chest. "That must be why I find you irresistible, then," She laughed.

Philippos realised Olympias was still a beautiful woman. He smiled. "I told you before, you waste your time with your potions, witch. The way you are, you have no need for them."

Olympias was breathing rapidly. "And what potions have you used on me, old horse?"

* * *

Seléne stood on the common balcony looking out on the night. The day had been hot and dry, but after the heat of the day there was a cooling night breeze. It carried a warm fragrance of the sea and the land.

It had only been a week since Jacinta, Hakeem and her sister had left but she desperately missed her friend and her sister already.

She felt a cloud of melancholy was beginning to settle over her.

She didn't sleep well since her capture by Nikan. Sometimes there were nightmares of the prison or her stepbrother. Mostly it was dreams of formless terror that would wake her, terrified in the darkness and her body bathed in sweat. Sometimes she would lie awake hour after hour, staring into the darkness, praying for the dawn.

Jacinta had taught her some meditation and that helped … and nights like this helped.

Troian nights were so beautiful in the summer. She loved to walk barefoot to the balcony and just stand, looking out. The stars were so bright she felt she could almost touch them. A sliver of moon had risen and she could see the purple bulk of the nearby headland standing out against the shadow.

On the sea in the distance some lanterns showed where fishing boats lay, some using lights to attract the squid. Perhaps some were spies, who knows? Who cares? Fishing and trade were returning to the city.

On a night like tonight it was possible, for a while, to forget.

She could, for a while, forget the time she wished only to die.

For a while she could forget how the touch of a man on her body felt so loathsome and she could forget how disgusting and dirty her body had become for her.

She heard a noise behind her but didn't turn. She waited for Pericles to join her.

"It's so beautiful, don't you think?"

"My Lady," Pericles replied, smiling in the darkness. "When I think of you, I can see no other beauty."

Seléne smiled. "Are all you Greeks such terrible flatterers?"

"Arrgh," Pericles said. "You do me an injustice. I speak only the truth."

He moved closer to put his arm around her. Seléne flinched and stifled a cry.

It was as if she had been stung!

Pericles could see her eyes dilated, staring back at him. She was panting like an animal caught in a net.

He dropped his arm awkwardly, the blood rushed to his face as he tried to stammer an apology. He was given no chance. She put her finger to his lips and gazed deeply into his eyes. She couldn't conceal a look of pleading.

Taking his hand, she put it on her shoulder and turned till they were looking out to the sea together. She forced herself to relax into his embrace. Her breathing started to slow.

"I'm sorry, Pericles, please forgive me," she whispered hoarsely.

He touched her cheek. It was damp with tears.

Pericles felt so angry! Her brother had caused this wonderful girl to fear the touch of a man. As he cuddled the beautiful elf he made a vow. If he could do anything, if he had to give his life itself, he would make sure no one would hurt Seléne again.

"Seléne, I love you."

She turned in his embrace, her head down, slowly shaking it from side to side.

"Please Pericles, don't love me. You deserve better. Give your love to someone else."

As he held her tight, she was shivering.

"I don't care what you say," Pericles said, kissing her hair. "It's you I love. From the very first moment I saw you, I loved you. I'll never stop loving you."

Seléne turned to kiss him, fiercely. "I shouldn't do this to you," she whispered as she clung to him.

"Do what?" he asked. "You are wonderful, you are beautiful. The only thing you might do is make me very happy."

"Oh Pericles," said Seléne helplessly. "What's to become of us?"

 

 

Chapter 15: A Child in Terrible Danger

Father Maluch, the Grand Abbot of the Shayvist monks, saw the messenger leave the Qaṣba (citadel) with a small escort and make his way into the city of Karsh.

For a while he stared, unseeing, over the city.

It was many months ago now that the Warlord had issued an urgent call to Troia, so far away. The people of the desert had responded without hesitation or doubt.

It had drained Karsh and the desert tribes of all but a few of their fighting men. It was such a desperate time and they faced certain defeat. And such a defeat with them maximally committed would be catastrophic.

And now, thank Apollōn, there was news of a great battle fought and won. Some of their men would stay for the full campaign but their greater strength was already on the long road home, bearing great rewards.

Maluch felt a thrill of fear.

He couldn't help it, despite all his training. This was only the start, the prelude, a single battle of a coming war. The next step and each after would be harder, each fight more desperate than the one before, the peril greater.

They were now at war and it would be worse than any could imagine, worse than whatever they had faced before. And the war, he knew, would come here.

Perhaps it had already come.

If the enemy could strike here, in the very heart of the citadel, against one who was under his protection and the protection of their God, how could anyone be safe?

He sighed heavily and turned to go to his room, there was nothing more he could do now but wait … wait and pray.

* * *

Father Maluch, unlike most of his predecessors, was a competent but far from brilliant theologian. Surprisingly, though, his election as a compromise candidate after the death of Father Gavri'el proved to be an enormous boon to the order.

The small, seemingly delicate man was one of their most able administrators. His genius was in getting the right person in the right job and then supporting them.

The organisation was in a terrible state when he took over. Philosophers and semi-hermits can make an impressive mess of almost anything, given time.

Maluch's first step was to reorganise finances and the organisational structure. After this was done, he turned his attention to the archives. The order had accumulated a great number of unique and priceless manuscripts, written or collected by his predecessors. There were many religious books but there was also irreplaceable works on astronomy, mathematics, science, history and ancient maps.

Some of these were indecipherable now. Some were in elf runes … the scratchy writing designed for clay or wooden tablets. They even had a few tablets in ancient Lydian hieroglyphs, and writings from the Mykēnai and from ancient Kriti.

Much, fortunately, was on parchment, derived from specially treated animal skins. But there were still a number of very old documents on papyrus. Papyrus was too brittle and had to be stored on scrolls. It didn't age well, except in the drier regions; fortunately, in Karsh at least, humidity was low.

Even parchment with time is sensitive and the inks each had their own problems. Soot tends to smudge, other vegetable dyes fade and strong dyes from rock and special clay may damage the underlying parchment or paper over time.

When Maluch finally managed to get time to focus on the problem, he was dismayed to find fully half of the oldest documents were damaged by insects, water, sun or mould; others were torn, faded or dirty.

He decreed, against much resistance, that all old manuscripts not in immediate use were to be stored in one room in each chapter house and a custodian be appointed.

Most of the work of preservation wasn't in repairing the documents, but in laborious copying. Fortunately for Maluch there was no shortage of students. There were religious monks, others training as apprentices in other vocations, and some training to be scribes. There were even some from outside the monastery willing to volunteer their time.

Daniel had been brought to Karsh by Father Omar to train further in deep meditation. Daniel had a prodigious talent, easily mastering techniques that should have taken decades.

In the meantime, Daniel was put to work in the religious section of the archives. He had a neat, clear hand and seemed to have a gift for languages and ancient writings. He already spoke the local Aramaic fluently, as well as the Greek of Aiolía, and became increasingly proficient with other dialects. He knew a passable amount of Elvish and his ability quickly improved.

Father Maluch and the head curator, Brother Aaron, were amazed and delighted when Daniel managed to teach himself to read the Elvish script.

At first Father Maluch thought he had found the future curator for his archives.

It was Brother Aaron, who first expressed concern.

Since then they had both been watching their young novice with a growing unease.

Something inexplicable was happening to Daniel.

He began to become increasingly introverted and obsessed with the work and meditation. He didn't sleep much, claiming meditation was enough. He continued to develop abilities and possess knowledge he simply couldn't have.

He began to read Middle Elvish. Then began to insist there were errors in the books of Ancient Elvish magic. Aaron had to stop him making corrections! And finally something happened that Brother Aaron found terrifying.

"There, you see!" Daniel cried in excitement to Aaron. "These errors are not a mistake, they were put here deliberately. Someone doesn't want us to know the truth."

Aaron looked at Daniel in horror.

Brother Aaron couldn't understand what he was saying, but knew what language it was. Without seeming to be aware of it, Daniel was speaking fluently in a language that had been dead for almost two thousand years. No one living knew this language.

Daniel caught his mistake. "Sorry Brother, I got carried away," he explained in Aramaic.

He didn't seem to understand at all the significance of what had just happened.

"These translations have been tampered with. It all makes sense now! … No sir, I don't need to rest. I really must continue on if that's alright."

Aaron ordered him to weapons practice and then hurried to the Abbot.

Maluch looked at him in fear. "Are you sure?"

"Surely you must see it, Great Father. Whatever it is, it seems to be taking over."

Maluch looked grim. "Has it shown any signs of being evil?"

"Not yet, Great Father, and the boy himself doesn't seem aware it's happening."

"How much time have we got?"

"I don't know. If the Paladin was here I'm sure he could help, but he has ridden to war."

"We need help," Maluch said grimly. "I can only pray that the elves have kept some of their ancient knowledge. Whatever it is, it seems to involve them too."

* * *

It was late and the Great Mother, the ancient high priestess, Astrior, was finishing her final evening prayers before retiring for the night. She had stayed longer, to add a special heartfelt prayer for Seléne and Héctor and the three of the prophecy who were facing invaders in distant Troia. She struggled awkwardly up, pushing on an old table for support. Her old joints were so stiff!

As she turned to go to her bedroom she was startled to see Sophie, the tiny elf seeress.

Sophie stood silently, waiting for her in the faint light of the devotional lamp in the small wall alcove.

Sophie was nine now; her name meant "wisdom".

When she started to get the visions, her family became very frightened of her. They left her at the temple at the age of six and refused to have anything more to do with her. Most of the sisters of the order mothered her, especially Astrior.

"What on this earth are you doing up at this time, my child?" Astrior asked in surprise.

Sophie was holding a small piece of parchment in her hand. It was unsealed.

"I have written a reply, Reverent Mother," she said simply.

"What do you mean, Sophie? This is the middle of the night. Have you been dreaming again?" But Astoria felt a surge of fear.

"The evil mentioned in the prophecy has awakened," Sophie said calmly. Her eyes seemed focused on something in the distance. "A child is in terrible danger. The summons will come tonight, Mother."

The ancient priestess felt chilled. She read the note and then passed it slowly back to the child.

It merely said, "we will come."

Just then Astoria heard the sound of arguing outside the door. A courier was trying to force entrance and was being told she was asleep.

She called out loudly, "let him in!"

The Shayvist monk burst in and dropped to his knees before passing a letter to her. He had been riding hard and looked dusty and exhausted.

"Forgive me, Great Priestess, for disturbing your rest. I carry an appeal from the Grand Abbot himself and he said it was most urgent."

Astrior felt frozen on the spot. She clutched the Abbot's letter in her hands, frightened to open it. She just stared at the courier. Sophie stepped forward with her letter and looked to the Reverent Mother for permission. Astrior nodded reluctantly; she felt like she was in a waking nightmare.

Great Mother, why? She is only a child!

The man took the note and looked at it in fear; the reply was already drafted.

An escort had been despatched and would arrive in four days to bring them to Karsh. The courier would only spend the night and leave first thing in the morning.

"Reverent Mother, can Korrina come with me?" Sophie asked in a small voice as the man was ushered away.

"Sophie, you must go to bed now! We will talk about it in the morning." Astrior tried to hide her fear.

"Do as I say!" she snapped when Sophie hesitated, fear making her more irritable than she intended. She softened it with a smile. "Now go, child, we will talk in the morning."

Sophie bowed and obediently left. She didn't see Astrior, hands shaking as she opened the letter.

When she read it, she whispered softly, "Oh Sophie, dear, dear, child! You are too young … You are too young for this."

* * *

"And you will let her go?" Korrina was outraged. "For Our Lady's sake, she's just a child!"

It was the next morning and the senior sisters had gathered to discuss the sudden appeal. Apart from Astoria and Korrina the rest were silent, afraid.

Korrina began to pace in agitation. "You say we are facing the greatest threat the order has faced in millennia. The ancient evil has awakened and we don't even know what that means. Keep Sophie here and I will go."

"And what would you do?" Astoria asked softly. "The summons came for her. The time is upon us now. Sophie's presence here and now is no accident. Guard her well, Korrina. She may be our greatest hope."

Sophie had a talent not seen for thousands of years. What power might she grow into with time? Would she be given that time?

No one said anything further, there was nothing more to say.

Korrina nodded grimly and left to get ready.

* * *

It was early in the evening, a few weeks later. Maluch got out the reply again and turned the note over and over; what could it mean? The courier said the reply was written and ready before he had even delivered the letter. It was given to him by a small child, and, indeed, the handwriting was childish.

It was frightening, but also gave Maluch hope.

Perhaps the sisters of the order of the Great Mother had not lost all the old magic. He knew they had a powerful seeress, a tiny elf girl, but it was supposed to be a secret and none were allowed to see her.

The monk who had announced his visitors said it was two elf women and a small elf child from the temple at Elgard. They were now waiting in the small audience chamber, close to the library.

Well, he would see. He got up from his desk and walked slowly, trying to calm his trembling before he reached the visitor's room.

He found the three still standing, waiting for him – two priestesses of the Earth Mother and a child. They were dressed simply, for travelling. Their faces were partly hidden by their hoods.

"Servants of the Great Earth Mother, welcome to our house." Maluch bowed deeply. "This is a great honour. Thank you for coming. I must confess I didn't know what else to do. But you have been travelling, may I offer you refreshment?"

His guests relaxed only slowly. Sophie needed to be coaxed out from behind her guardians by honey cakes and warm milk. The little red-haired elf regarded him solemnly with her brilliant green eyes over the rim of the cup. All three of them were stunningly beautiful.

Maluch felt especially taken by Korrina, she was so beautiful; tall, thin and fair with the silky red hair of the elves. She was second only to the Reverent Mother in seniority. She was said to be the most gifted sister they had ever had, perhaps until this child.

"I'm sorry to be impatient," Korrina said. "But it's not late. Can we meet this child you are so worried about?"

Korrina seemed to be surprisingly abrupt for an elf. Maluch signalled to one of his assistants to fetch Daniel.

As Daniel walked in, Korrina was astounded. "But he has elf blood! You didn't mention it! ... Of course that's important! Sorry, Daniel, to talk about you in front of you. I hear you have some exceptional talent."

Daniel was looking bewildered and a bit frightened. "Yes, Holy Mother."

"Don't worry, you are not in trouble. We have been asked to help you. Come here, we won't hurt you." They had Daniel kneel and bow his head and then spent a long time, praying in silence, their hands held just above Daniel's head.

"That's all, Daniel, thank you. Do you mind showing young Sophie around the building? Would you like him to do that, Sophie? Don't be too long and come back here after that.

"Don't worry." She turned to Maluch who was about to protest. "It's perfectly safe."

Sophie put her hand in Daniel's and looked up solemnly into his face and smiled tentatively, then allowed herself to be led out.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Korrina turned to Maluch. "You said you could find no evil in the boy."

Maluch nodded. "Omar should be here late tonight, perhaps he can tell you more, but I don't believe Daniel is evil."

"Good, we can find no evil either. I don't think that is what this is at all. We will get the children settled in for the night and then I want to hear all that you know and all that has been observed about Daniel. Tomorrow I want to question him in detail."

Eunike, whose name meant "good victory", turned to her superior. "You don't suppose?"

Korrina merely said, "I am still uncertain, these are strange times."

"What?" Maluch asked.

"You are concerned Daniel is being taken over by some evil or some entity has disguised itself as Daniel. That would take great power and we would easily sense it.

"It is rare, but sometimes there are those who gain access to knowledge from a past life. We suspect that is what is happening. The opportunity would be stupendous. You say he can see something wrong with the old spells. If that is true, perhaps not all the old elf magic is lost.

"I suspect Daniel being here at this very time is no chance happening."

* * *

Daniel led Sophie by a twisting route to a small secluded room, dimly lit, and carefully closed the door. Sophie walked around for a minute in the shadows and then turned to Daniel and smiled.

"Hello Daniel, so this is what you look like. Do they suspect us, do you think?"

"Suspect?" Daniel replied, with some irritation as he looked the small elf girl up and down. "You almost had me burnt at the stake for possession!"

"No silly, that's not going to happen," The tiny elf giggled. She took a book off the shelf and brought it over to a lamp to study it with some interest. "You can't keep what you are a secret from these people. Wake up, Daniel! We live in the time of the prophecy. You're not here to become a curator of a library, for the sake of the Goddess."

"I'm not at all sure of what I am!" Daniel yelled in irritation. Sophie paused, watching him intently, a little frightened.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be angry with you. Thanks for coming, Sophie. I really need your help."

Sophie relaxed and smiled impishly. "Of course you do. ...Just as long as you realise it, that's all."

Then all amusement fell from her face and she started to pace. "You are in serious danger, Daniel. One of the ancient ones has arisen and he is the worst of them all. His true power is terrible. At present he walks softly and uses barbarians to do his bidding.

"He has sent a large force from a far land. It is to stop the child involved in the recovery of the magic of the ancients. That would be you, I presume.

"And by the way, Daniel, stop thinking about that girl! I can hear you. The one who you thought I was when I first contacted you."

"I'm not married to you, Sophie."

"We were once, though you don't remember." Sophie smiled at the recollection. "I hang on to what I own. You would know that, if you remembered me at all. Who is this girl, do you like her?"

"She is a good friend of mine. She was very kind to me and I care for her. Anyway, her name is Jacinta, the Jacinta, Sophie. She is Elena's daughter."

Daniel paused, looking puzzled, something wasn't right. "Sophie, those troops can't be coming here. The Shantawi would slaughter them before they could come within hundreds of miles of this place. Look around you. I'm in a citadel in a walled city. Most monks carry weapons as a matter of course.

"Jacinta is the other one possible, she will be searching for the magical items, but she's in the fortress city of Troia surrounded by an army. So who could they be after?"

Even in the light Daniel could see Sophie go pale. She put her hands to her mouth.

"Jacinta!" Sophie said in a small lost voice. "The daughter? Daniel, holy Troia was never where the Greek city stands. Jacinta will be searching the Troian plain and our queen is with her. They are the ones the army is after. It is the vision of King Cyron. Daniel, I have seen them die.

"The victory at Troia hasn't stopped it and I don't have the power to reach Jacinta. There is something blocking me. Daniel, they will find them and they will kill them. They will kill both of them."

She burst into tears.

Daniel felt a chill of horror. "How many are after them?"

"I don't know," Sophie whined in fear and frustration. "A thousand, I think."

Daniel desperately grabbed the little girl by the arms. "We must help them!"

Sophie was crying and trembling but when he grabbed her she took a big breath and tried to gather herself.

"Daniel, there is barely time but we must leave now, or all is lost."

 

 

Chapter 16: Entering Bithynia

Philippos was not worried by the defeat of the Athēnai or that the Anatolian allies were stronger now. Hakeem had done some of his work for him. He had removed the last major threat to stability in the Hellás.

He knew the cities of the Hellás were now trading with the Troians, but he could easily deal with that later. The fact that the allies had gained naval dominance was more of a concern, but not much. Philippos had no interest in navies. All his plans were land based.

He was looking forward to the campaign against Hakeem. It was a long time since he had a worthy adversary, but the outcome was inevitable. He had numerical superiority and no other force could face his Makedónes in open battle.

If Hakeem didn't seriously worry Philippos, Philippos most certainly did worry Hakeem.

Hakeem, Héctor and Neros had arrived in the fortress-city of Abydos. It was only second to Troia in importance to the allies. It had the best harbour in the narrow Hellespontos straits and was sited at the narrowest point of the straight, scarcely a mile wide. It was at Abydos that they long had felt Philippos and his Makedónes would force a crossing.

They had joined Belamus (the elf), Telephus the Lord of Abydos, and Karpos Leandros's eldest son, in the war room in Abydos. Telephus was Leandros's best stratēgos (general) and the commander of the forward forces. He was pointing to a huge map of the Black Sea passage spread across the table.

"I will go over much that is familiar to you already, Lords, just so you can get used to how we Troian Greeks name things locally," he was saying.

"This is the passage from the Aegean to the Black Sea. There are two straits. The Hellespontos here at the Aegean end." He pointed to the map. "'Pont' is for 'sea' and 'Hellás' is the young girl in legend who was said to have fallen off the flying golden ram and drowned here.

"In the middle the passage to the Black Sea bulges in what we Greeks call the Propontis, 'before the sea', though it is a small sea in its own right. At the Black Sea end is another narrow strait we call the Bósporos (Ox-ford) after another legend.

"It is even narrower and even more treacherous. The Makedónes have built forts lining the Bósporos and put barriers to slow naval passage. So that is theirs, but our navy controls the rest.

"There are three regions on the Anatolē side. Bithynia includes the Bósporos, that's where Parmenion entered Anatolē. Here we are near the ancient border of the Troad and in between the two is the ancient region of Mysia. The Makedónes hold all of Thráki which makes up the opposite shore.

"We had always expected Philippos to cross here, at Abydos. It is the narrowest part of the Hellespontos. It would give him access to the Troad and would split our forces. So what does Philippos do? He takes Byzántion, of course, and crosses at the Bósporos. It's well out of his way."

Hakeem nodded. "Bósporos, it's what I would do. It's slower but safer than going straight to Troia. He doesn't command the sea which is his main problem. His overland supply lines need to go through Bithynia. If he landed here at Abydos without naval support and things went badly for him, he would be in a very awkward position. He needs a strong base on our side."

"Well he's most definitely managed that alright and very quickly," Karpos said dryly. "We weren't able to mount any effective resistance and Parmenion now has all of maritime Bithynia. He has his solid base and will be hard to dislodge."

"Will Parmenion be able to come further?" Neros asked.

"No," said Karpos and looked to Hakeem to explain.

"Not till he is reinforced," Hakeem continued. "He has to hold what he has, so he can't bring his full army to bear. He keeps coming off second best in skirmishes with Boteiras, the prince of the native Bithynians. His heavy infantry and cavalry are useless in the forest and hills of the hinterland.

"If Parmenion entered Mysia, he would have the Princes' capital, Prusa, and much of the Princes' forces at his rear. In front he would have the last great Greek city of the area, Kyzikos. Kyzikos is a very different proposition to the ones he has conquered. It is built on an island with a causeway to the mainland and is a well-designed fortress-city. It already has a Troian garrison and we are freed up to reinforce it and keep it supplied by sea if need be."

"How many more will Philippos bring?" Héctor asked quietly.

"My father says at least another thirty-five thousand, maybe more," Karpos replied gravely.

"And then they come here," Héctor said quietly.

"I'm sure that's Philippos's plan," Hakeem said dryly. "With that many men he can contain the Princes' forces, contain Kyzikos and lay siege to us here. From Abydos he can threaten Troia or the Lydoi city, Sardeis.

"Sardeis is weak but it is a close march to Aiolía. Ephesus and Milētos are even more powerful and maybe all three would unite to stop Philippos at Sardeis. Meeting them united and head on is not his style. It will be Troia, he always does the unexpected, but it always makes sense."

"Now what's your plan?" Karpos asked.

Hakeem smiled broadly. "I thought you'd never ask! I can't face Parmenion in the open, so I won't. I will wear him down and disrupt his supply lines. I will take three hundred of my Shantawi and two hundred and fifty elvish infantry bowmen under Belamus into Bithynia."

"Are you sure you're not taking too many?" Neros asked, completely startled.

Hakeem looked uncertainly at his new friend. "I don't think so. I think I'll need at least that many to make an impression."

Héctor merely looked amused.

"Don't you think you will be tripping over all those men?" Neros persisted.

"Oh! I see," Hakeem said in sudden understanding. "You think I should take more. But I'm not going to engage Parmenion in a pitched battle. It'll be more than enough to start."

This I have to see!

"Mind if I join, with some of my men?"

Hakeem smiled warmly. "You are most welcome, my friend. It would be my honour to have you with us. Can I suggest, say three hundred Athēnai peltastae?"

"Three hundred? Of course," said Neros. "We wouldn't want to overdo it, now, would we?"

* * *

It would only be the first of their raiding parties, but Hakeem had no intention of bringing large numbers into Bithynia.

It was the third day since Hakeem and his small force had landed in Bithynia. They were moving cautiously, keeping to the narrow forest trails and thoroughly scouting ahead. An hour ago, without a word, Hakeem had abruptly changed the direction of their advance.

Belamus signalled a halt and turned to Hakeem, his face expressionless. "I know where we are headed. We don't need to go there, why not leave it to our scouts?"

The rest of the elves waited, looking decidedly unhappy.

Hakeem's face was grave. "You and I know what we will find, Belamus."

"Then we do not need to go there!" Belamus insisted angrily.

"We do," Hakeem said quietly. "I'm going to ask things of you. Things I would not wish to ask of anyone, especially not you Belamus."

Hakeem's tribesmen sat their horses as if carved from stone. Belamus stared at Hakeem, close to trembling with outrage. Hakeem simply sat his horse, waiting, staring evenly at the elf.

The other elves were silent but Neros could feel anger building in the air like lightning before a storm. He watched the wordless battle of wills, elf against human. His Greeks started to get restless as the angry silence dragged on. What on earth was going on?

Eventually Neros broke the silence. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Belamus's attention snapped to him.

"How can you not know? How can you not sense it?" he replied in a fury. "Well, human, you will know soon enough!"

Hakeem nudged his horse to a walk and his tribesmen followed in double file, silent and grim. The elves followed, stony faced. All talk had ceased. There was not even the pretence of friendship between the Shantawi and the elves. The Greeks followed with an awful sense of forebode.

It was not long before they found out where Hakeem was leading them.

* * *

It must have happened three days before. The villagers had no warning.

Scattered on the ground were the bodies bloated in the sun; a dense cloud of flies rose as they approached. Most of the buildings had been torched and were empty shells. The smell was appalling. Some of the Athēnai started retching.

The villagers had been murdered as they tried to flee or shield themselves or their loved ones. Some had taken refuge in the crude temple. The door had been blocked and the building set alight.

Hakeem growled a few harsh words to his men in their dialect. The tribesmen remained on their horses. Their faces grim as they let the elves and the Greeks pick their way through the carnage.

Hakeem's face was a bleak mask, his body motionless, only his eyes flicked back and forward. No one watching could tell his mind was racing. Only his eyes moved as he worked out what had happened.

The raiders had come on foot. It had to be first light, as the villagers hadn't left for their morning toils. The soldiers were not detected until they were almost upon them. The village was defenceless. The raiders came from the north and some of the innocents had tried to flee south but the raiders had already encircled the village. They were ready.

A young girl and her baby brother were cut down from behind as they ran. There was a woman heavy with child, her eyes staring open as the flies feasted on her. The blood stain showed she was alive when a soldier had opened her belly.

An old man and woman were stretched out in front of a hut, it would be their daughter slumped nearby and that pathetic bundle of bloodied rags had been her baby.

There were two shallow graves nearby and a farm axe with dry blood on it and old blood all around. They had strung an old man up and hacked at him; his wounds didn't bleed, so he had been dead first.

A smile almost tugged at the corners of Hakeem's mouth – the old man had managed to kill two of them before they had gotten him.

They took their time to burn the crops, kill the animals and make sure all the villagers were dead. They had come for riches and slaves but they needed to do these things as well.

It made their soldiers hardened for battle. It taught the people not to resist them and it might even spur the defenders, in their rage and anguish, to leave their strong points and face the Makedónes in the open.

"Argh!" screamed Belamus in agony. "Must you humans make war on small children? Must you kill old men, and unarmed women? Why do you kill even animals, betraying their trust? What sort of monsters are you? Why are we elves here? We should leave you filthy murderers to fight your own wars."

Hakeem made no reply.

His imagination was going over and over, reconstructing the scene. How could he have defended this village? How many men would he need? Where would he have placed them and where would he set his lookouts?

But he imagined something else.

He heard the laughter of small children, the noise of the animals. The pregnant woman was proud and excited about her coming baby. Her face would have had that healthy, happy glow. Was it her first?

The work was hard, the people poor. But they were happy, generous to strangers and those in need. Their able men had been called to war. The small girl had been pretty before the Makedónes had got to her. Her dead baby brother was a fine little boy. Hakeem saw them playing together.

Now there was only an empty, aching desolation, silent but for the buzzing of flies.

In his mind something else came, it was so vivid! He could see the panic and hear the terrible screams. He could see the horror.

He blinked but it did nothing to remove the image from his mind. The staring eyes of the pregnant woman accused him, why did you not come here sooner?

Finally he came back from where he was to see Belamus, who was looking at him with anger and revulsion. Elves can never forget the horror that is human war. When the Mykēnai sacked Troia, the elves had been betrayed. They were completely defeated. The Mykēnai did not accept surrender, nor did they ask for the wealth they came for. The elves would have given all they had and more, to prevent the destruction of their lovely city.

Instead madness had seized the raiders. They killed as if in celebration, they drowned in blood, revelling in the god-like power to destroy, slaughter and burn, not only warriors but women, children and old men. Priceless knowledge was destroyed and a city of timeless beauty was razed to the ground.

Hakeem sat his horse, impassively waiting till they had seen all that he had brought them to see.

"How could you humans do such things?" Belamus asked more quietly.

The Greeks and elves turned to Hakeem, awaiting his reply. Hakeem replied, softly at first, almost conversationally, as if he was discussing something mundane, a simple matter of fact.

"Belamus is right. This is the evil of human war. I needed you to see it."

He paused and stared intently at Belamus and smiled humourlessly. Then he raised his voice to a great shout.

"Any of you!" He looked around. "Any one of you here! If you wish to leave, I will not let that come between myself and the love I bear you.

"There will be no reproach, but if you want to leave, leave now! Because … If you stay, I show you this.

"I show you this, so you understand how it must be!

"I will not demand justice for the dead. That is not my task.

"I will stop this slaughter in whatever way I can, cruel or kind. The only thing I will not do is wage war on innocents such as these.

"Short of that, I will stop at nothing.

"In what I am about to do, I will seek no honour. I will be glad to shoot men in the back or cut their throat while they sleep.

"In what I am about to do, I will show no mercy. I will take no prisoners and I will dispense no justice. I will not decide who deserves what and who does not.

"I do not need you to like what I am about to do but if you follow me, I need you to do what I say, without question and without hesitation.

"Feel your anger now! Let it steal your resolve. Then put it aside. I have no time for heroes or for angry men. I myself do not feel anger at our enemies. I feel pity rather. Pity for what we will now do to them.

"I feel sadness, for us and for what we will become because of this. Most of all I feel sorrow for these innocents, these helpless people and their suffering.

"NOW! WILL YOU HELP ME?"

Belamus looked at Hakeem in horror and spat. He shouted back in disgust, almost hatred.

"Curse you! You monstrous man! Are you not angry? What are you? Are you even human? I laughed with you. I have shared food with you. I thought I knew you! I am sorry that I ever met you!"

Hakeem showed no reaction to this attack. "I don't need you to like me, Belamus," he said quietly. "Will you follow me?"

Belamus hung his head. "May the Great Mother protect my soul! For my part I will stay. I too would stop this thing. It must never come to my people. I will stop it, even if it means joining with one such as you." He raised his voice to his men. "Elves, are you with me?"

The elves shouted loudly, "Yes!" in angry voices.

"And us," cried Neros, though softer. "Do we bury them?" he asked gently.

"No, Neros, we go to bury the people that did this," Hakeem said, his face expressionless, as if carved in stone. "They have two full days start and part of the third, but they will be going slowly and have a long way to go."

He nudged his horse and rode on without another word, in truth not caring if he was followed or not. The Shantawi followed as one man. The others hesitated, looking at the carnage, and then turned to follow.

This was a side to the Warlord that no one of them had seen … and they wished they never had.

* * *

The day was hot and the infantry sweated under their burdens. It had been a small village and not rich. The temple had a tiny horde of gold and silver coins and the women had thin silver or gold arm bands, from their dowry, to sell when there was a need.

Well, there was a need. There were soldiers that had need of their gold and silver.

They had taken cattle, a few peasant lads and some of the younger women and children to sell as slaves, it would be enough. Some of the soldiers were laughing about how they raped the priestess or about the woman who begged for her life. Two of the newer men didn't laugh, but give them time, they would become hardened.

Up ahead, on the crest of the hill, they saw a lone horseman. The sun was behind him and they squinted to make out the details. There were no enemy forces in Bithynia, they were unopposed, was it a Makedóne horseman? Slowly more riders ambled up to join the waiting horseman. It was hard to see.

Then they saw how they were dressed.

They were Shantawi!

Panic went through the soldiers and they began screaming and shouting at once. It was like a nightmare. The riders turned their horses towards them. They moved slowly, casually, as they unslung their bows and began nocking arrows, getting ready for them.

"Make for the forest!" the Lokhagos screamed. They had no defence against horse archers in the open. Two hundred men started a frantic dash to the forest, abandoning their carts and slaves.

The horsemen were in no hurry. They trotted behind, carefully maintaining their distance.

Then they chose their targets.

The Shantawi attacked in silence. No orders were shouted. There were no war cries or calls of triumph. The soldiers ran shouting and screaming in panic or crying out in despair as they were hit and fell behind. A few made it near the forest. It was then that the elvish archers hidden in the trees took aim. Confusion reigned. Some turned to fight, some tried to run back or hide in the grass. The Lokhagos screamed for them to form a shield wall. They were given no chance, none at all.

Hakeem's men killed two hundred men. Only one of his men was killed and two were hurt.

It was he that had tracked the raiders and he that had planned the attack. It was not to be a fair fight, none were allowed to surrender. It was an extermination, cold and merciless.

While Neros's men released the slaves, the elves watched, motionless as Hakeem's men went from man to man, making sure all the raiders were dead. They would take some of the food but leave everything else, two horse-drawn carts, the small amount of gold and the animals, with the few survivors of the village.

"Do you want us to give you safe passage to anywhere near?" Hakeem asked a young Lydoi woman called Omphale, as he dismounted next to her.

Her face was bruised and swollen from a beating she had received. She had said she was the grand-daughter of their head man.

"Do you go to kill more of these? Because, let us not delay you!" Omphale said, formally bowing slightly. "Who is it that I can thank for helping my people?"

"My name is Hakeem, and you are now my people."

"Ah, the Warlord of the Shantawi. " She bowed her head. "You are far from home, tribesman. But glad I am to see you, and glad I am to hear you speak thus. Here, take this, it is all I can give."

She offered her gold arm band which had only just been returned to her. Then she leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

"They have killed my husband, my children, my father and my mother. I have not a brother or sister left alive, so what need do I have of this?"

She looked at him, dry eyed and proud. "I am walking, yet inside I too am dead. Yet I will go on and care for my people, these few that are left."

"Omphale, Lady." Hakeem bowed deeply. "I accept. In exchange for your gift, I promise to help your people and hinder your enemies. By my honour you will be well pleased with my service." He kissed the arm band and stowed it close to his heart.

Omphale smiled at him. "Hakeem, you're as fair spoken as they say. May the Goddess of the Journey, whom I call Hecate, guide your path!"

Without a further word, Hakeem mounted and led his men deeper into Bithynia.

* * *

Without warning, over a hundred Shantawi mercenaries burst out of the cover of the trees, screaming their war cries as they took the convoy from the rear.

Three hundred Makedóne heavy cavalry scrambled to get their lances but before they could the Shantawi had passed, firing arrows as they went, twisting in their saddles to shoot backwards as they galloped away.

Soon the Makedóne were thundering after them. Their lances required two hands so they hung small shields from their left shoulder, relying on linen and leather body armour with iron or bronze sewn into it, but at such short range against Shantawi archery the Makedónes' armour was ineffective.

As the heavy Makedóne infantry chased them, the Shantawi scattered, galloping away in all directions. They continued to fire their heavy war bows with uncanny accuracy as they were twisting and turning. Without a formation to charge, the Makedónes found their unwieldy lances useless; most discarded them and clutched for their shields, drawing their curved slashing swords. The Makedónes could not close with their agile opponents. Hakeem's century was rapidly decimating the larger force.

Neros, as he watched from hiding, realised the Shantawi didn't fight completely as individuals. They split up and would suddenly come together just when they needed to, often with whistled signals or wordless shouts. As the heavier Makedónes tried to chase them, if any got separated from the rest, the Shantawi would suddenly round in ambush, firing from several directions at once.

It had seemed lucky, random, at first but it was being repeated over and over. In the end four tribesmen were killed and three injured but it was only because the Makedónes were superbly trained, the very best at what they did.

Hakeem gestured to the rest of his men to catch the horses and check for survivors. He turned with half of his force and rode slowly back to the wagons. The drivers and the few remaining guards found themselves surrounded by Shantawi with their bows drawn taut.

"I have no need to keep any of you alive." Hakeem's loud voice boomed out. "You have seen what just a few of us can do and we only used a fraction of what we have here.

"By my honour if you throw down your weapons and do everything we say, you will live. Also by my honour, if you resist us in any way we can and we will kill you without cost to us. Choose quickly, I find I have little patience."

* * *

The ships crept forward cautiously in the darkness. The rowers pulled carefully and slowly, the sound of oars muffled by cloth. It was three weeks after Hakeem landed.

Ahead and to the left they saw the agreed signal from a covered lantern, five long flashes followed by two quick ones. They replied with six short and the commander had his men row quickly in to beach his triērēs. The rest of the ships hung back.

Neros and his men were waiting to meet them. His Greek friend, Herodotos, hailed him as he finished climbing a rope ladder from the warship, grinning broadly at his childhood friend, Neros.

"Lord Neros! I heard you were somewhere here. I've come to join you with two hundred mixed marines and archers. We'll hold this base. How are you making out, have we lost many Athēnai?"

"Greeks? Not one, so far. We have seven wounded and six dead from the force over-all. Hakeem keeps a very tight control over what we do," Neros replied.

"So you haven't seen much action, then? Is this plunder?"

"Yes, but not ours, we don't attack villages or harm innocents. This we took from the Makedónes. We've had four engagements against large numbers."

Herodotos looked shocked. There were over three hundred fine looking horses. There were twenty wagons and a few prisoners. All in three weeks!

Herodotos had brought two cargo boats flat and open, and designed to be towed, but they could only load a fraction of what awaited them. He looked back and forward a few times and then shook his head.

"How can that be?"

Neros shuddered a little. "If you have any compassion in you, Herodotos, pray for our enemies."

Herodotos looked at his friend with something approaching fear. "What he did to us at Troia. That was no accident, was it?"

Neros shook his head wordlessly, staring out into the night.

"That's not many prisoners," Herodotos added in a whisper.

Neros nodded.

"Is he even human?" Herodotos finally asked.

"I don't know." Neros shook his head. "He is in all ways a man. He is kind to the men and the villagers, and even those here that surrendered. Beyond that I'm not sure. He kills without any mercy. I would give my life for him but he is the most terrifying man I have ever met."

 

 

Chapter 17: Ancient Ruins, and Drakon

"No," Jacinta called out in disgust to her mother. "It's Greek again."

Jacinta was sweaty, hot, dirty and fed up. Worse, she was getting increasingly irritated by the behaviour of her mother. She had started the search for the ruins of Troia with great excitement. The fabled lost city of the Western Elves, and a search for a hidden treasure.

It might be her, Jacinta that found it!

It sounded like a great adventure, and it couldn't be too hard.

In recorded history going back thousands of years there had only been two great cities built along the Skamandros River. One, the existing Greek city of Troia and the only other one was the lost city of the elves.

So all they had to do was look for a large jumble of ruins in a commanding position overlooking the river valley. It all seemed so simple, right?

But wrong, terribly wrong!

First of all, not all ruins are visible. In their cities and larger towns the Greeks and elves, especially in the better quarters used sophisticated plumbing and sewage systems, but what they didn't ever do was remove rubbish, dust or rubble from the city or town itself.

Over time they progressively built on top of what had come before. This process could continue for as long as a site was inhabited, so layer upon layer of ancient ruins may lie below a present building.

Second, while an uninhabited site would be slowly covered over time, most were thoroughly picked over for anything valuable or easily portable at first, and then scavenged for marble and anything decorative and finally even useable stone. It is so much easier to get stone from a nearby ruin than the labour of quarrying and carting from some distant site.

The destruction the Mykēnai had wrought on Elvish Troia was catastrophic and then it was followed by the time of the Aryans. If the site was heavily raided or if it was built upon how under the Gods could they ever find it?

That it was built upon seemed unlikely, or at least Jacinta prayed that it was, because early accounts said that the ruins were haunted and shunned by human and elf alike.

Finally, Elena and her party had no trouble finding ruins. The whole region was littered with them.

An interesting pile of stones might be an old village or just an ancient farmer marking out his land. Since man first came to the Aegean, this fertile and strategic valley was inhabited. Since before the time of the elves to the present day, man and elves built their temples, villages and forts with stone. Stone was used to pave the roads and even build fences. The region was troubled by earthquakes. Time and invasions had done the rest.

So there were ruins everywhere.

After aimlessly wandering around and scratching over piles of old stones it became clear they needed local guides. How would they keep the presence of elves and the true mission of the party a secret? The main party stayed hidden and Elena sent out four scouting parties made up solely of Greeks, to find local guides to point out interesting ruins for them.

The nearby villagers couldn't believe their luck!

Everyone in the Anatolē knew about the stupidity of the Greeks from the Helles.

Now, a bunch of these fools with more money than sense turned up on their doorsteps offering gold to be shown piles of stones! They just couldn't believe it!

Only an idiot didn't know that all the ruins had been plundered long ago.

Well, they could keep finding piles of old stones for as long as these fools had money left to spend.

Elena's men dared not give a clue to what they were seeking.

So they ended paying good money to be led on a wild goose chase all over the Troad.

It fell to Elena and Jacinta and a small group of workers to sift through the more promising sites, and there were a lot of them. Because of the problem of building and rebuilding, the search had to be thorough, the last thing they wanted was to have to come back and do it again.

Jacinta groaned inwardly at the thought of having to do it again.

They had already been searching for three weeks. Jacinta had long passed into a mood of morose discouragement as she realised the enormity of what they faced. Now she was engaged in the soul-destroying task of excluding the fourth site in as many days.

To make matters worse, her elf mother was getting increasingly distracted. She had begun to act as if she was only partly in the world Jacinta and the rest of the humans inhabited.

She was starting to hum ancient elvish tunes and spend increasing periods just staring into the distance, while Jacinta and the Greeks were left scratching and digging and sweating in the heat and the dust and the flies.

The search for Troia, the holiest of elvish cities, was beginning to affect all the elves. Of evening they began singing their hauntingly beautiful hymns, as the humans listened in rapt silence.

"We are getting closer, I can feel it!" Elena told her one evening. "I expected to feel this way when we came to Greek Troia and I didn't understand why I didn't. Troia is calling to me. It is calling all of us elves."

Jacinta, listening to her mother, thought she could feel something pulling at her as well. Was it imagination? Or perhaps she could feel a little of what was calling to the elves.

But couldn't it give an address if it was calling, wouldn't that be more polite?

As Elena and the rest of the elves increasingly began to drift into a strange world of their own, Jacinta only hoped they would snap out of it once they reached the ruins of Troia or they would be completely useless, and she and the Greeks would have to do all the work.

"This isn't big enough, anyway. Should we try the next one, Mother?" Jacinta asked without any enthusiasm. It was well past midday and all she felt was hungry, tired and grumpy.

Elena simply gave her the serene smile that she was increasingly wearing as the fruitless search progressed. "Don't worry. One more disappointment only brings us closer."

One more disappointment brings us closer? What sort of statement was that? Her mother was starting to sound like Hakeem or worse maybe, Hakeem munching herbs.

"Come on, Mother," Jacinta said wearily. "We have time, I think. The next one's not far. See that great hill in the middle of the valley? At some stage, the river has changed course so it's separate from the rest of the hills. For some reason no one goes there much." She pointed to the hill in the distance.

"That's it," Elena said very softly; her green eyes seemed to be glowing. "That is Elvish Troia."

Jacinta felt goose bumps rising on her arms and along her neck.

"How do you know?" she asked automatically.

"I know," Elena said very softly. "Let's call off the search here and get over to the old city."

The expression on Elena's face was unreadable. Jacinta looked at the woman she had come to think of as her mother. Here, close to the holiest place of the elves, Jacinta felt it strongly.

Her mother was not human.

"Forgive me, Mother," Jacinta said softly, now in awe of the holy place. "I wish to pray and cleanse myself before I go there."

Elena nodded solemnly. "You are right, Jacinta. This needs preparation. We will go in the morning."

Jacinta nodded. "But couldn't you have got this sense of where it was a little earlier?"

Elena looked at her blankly for a moment, and then laughed. "I suppose it would have been handy, wouldn't it? I had no idea what to expect. Don't you like poking around old ruins? I thought they interested you."

"A bath," Jacinta replied. "I want to bathe in the river and clean clothes. And you look very grubby for an elf, Mother!"

Elena had shaken off her mood of religious preoccupation. "Are you ready to race me, daughter?" she asked, running to her horse.

"That's not fair!" Jacinta laughed, trying to catch her. "You've got a head start!"

* * *

"Is that all that's left?" Elena asked with tears in her eyes.

The wind whispered a song of endless mourning as it blew a cloud of dust around their horse's feet.

Jacinta moved her horse closer and put her hand on her mother's arm. Elena and the elves waited in the heat, staring motionless at the great hill and its pathetic remains.

They had come to an abandoned, dry, desolate part of the Troian plain. A massive hill rose out of this wild place. At the front of it they could see a small section of a building's wall like a collapsed house with a single doorway and window partly collapsed and buried.

Above the doorway was a row of holes to insert heavy beams, long rotted away. It was a skeleton of a house, its window an empty eye socket staring at them.

It seemed to be laughing at them.

It seemed to say, "Why have you come to disturb old ghosts?"

Behind that, the ground rose steeply to form a great hill covered with grey and sandy soil and patches of dry grass, yellow in the summer heat.

Up top, the crown of the hill, there was scrub and stunted trees. It gave mockery to any dream of past greatness.

The whole place was littered with small fragments of broken pieces of stone. Four columns stood peeping a few feet out of the soil. Only two of them had retained their intricately carved capitals on the top but the elvish runes and the carving signifying Apollōn, the patron God of Troia, was unmistakable.

"All those years," Elena cried out in anguish. "All those people, all that greatness … and there is nothing left!"

Here was the sad end to which holy Troia had come. Here in this desolate place, their search had ended.

The horses huddled miserably in the baking heat, their tails swishing flies. The Greeks and Troian humans hung well back out of respect. Only Jacinta had accompanied the elves up to the ruins.

Drakon, the young commander of the elf bodyguard looked at Jacinta in disgust and anger. "Surely the humans could have left one stone standing on the other. Did they have to break the very stones? There is nothing for the living left here."

Elena turned to Jacinta, "We have wasted our time, daughter. Whatever was here is long gone. We elves have some prayers we must say, but then we must look elsewhere. I don't know where." Her voice sounded as bleak as the remains.

"NO!" Jacinta shouted at the top of her voice.

She almost screamed at the elves in exasperation.

She felt like saying, "If you had paid attention to those Greek ruins you forced me to scratch over in the dust and the heat while you sat around with those stupid dreamy looks on your faces you'd know better. But you had no interest in them, did you, just because elves hadn't built them?"

Instead she took a deep breath.

"It's been a thousand years! Anything on the surface is destroyed and just looks like rubble. But dust, birds, plants have covered most of the ruins over time. Underneath you will find them more intact. See those columns. They line either side of a road. Once you take the weight off them they are easier to push over by earthquakes or soil movement.

"I bet if you dig down to the base of those intact ones you will find a road, more columns and probably steps up to the city above."

Jacinta pointed back to the skeleton of the house. "Unless I miss my guess that could have been a shop." She was thinking of the ancient descriptions of the city. "I think I know where we are, we are in the docks area."

"Yes! That's it!" she continued excitedly. "This is one of the roads up from the docks to the city up above. You can see that, can't you? The city was on top of that great mound." She pointed. "It will be buried deep after all this time." Jacinta gave her mother a triumphant smile.

Elena looked at rubble scattered over the hill uncertainly, but Jacinta's talk had put heart back into her elves.

"Well, daughter of mine," she said with a smile, shaking her head. "You seem so sure. How would you know any of this? Let's see if you are right. We will dig here and see if we can find the road as you claim.

"Wait, Jacinta!"

Jacinta was ready to ride back to one of the carts and grab a spade. Elena nodded to the rest who moved back to start the preparations, so she could talk to Jacinta alone.

"You're not going to be involved in the digging; Hakeem has left me instructions for you to continue your training. You are to be trained in the use of elvish long sword."

Jacinta stood frozen, her mouth open in a little 'O'.

Being trained in swordsmanship by an elf!

All elves are expert bowmen, so they do not use shields or spears but their common soldiers carry sharp knives and short swords. Elf officers and nobles must learn the use of the elvish long- sword. In the use of a knife, the bow and the long sword, the elvish art is supreme.

Learning the long sword takes years to perfect, very few elves would teach a human. The advantages for Jacinta were obvious but who could her mother ask to teach her?

"I am going to ask my best swordsman, Drakon, to assess if you are suitable to be taught," Elena said.

Jacinta visibly paled. Drakon's father was known to be implacably opposed to humans. Drakon himself had made his own views known.

"Does Father know?" she asked, as a chill passed through her.

"Your father asked if it was possible for one of my elves to train you," Elena said, "Drakon is the best available. He was the runner-up in the Elgard championship two years running and was a junior instructor at the academy. His skills are the reason he commands my bodyguard."

Jacinta shook her head numbly, she was in shock. Her mother had chosen someone who hated humans.

"But, have you asked him?" Jacinta asked helplessly. "You know his attitude. He will refuse to teach a human."

"I well know his attitude!" Elena said, raising her voice angrily. "Drakon hasn't been consulted. Last time I checked, I was his queen. I merely ask that he assess you as my daughter, he can hardly refuse. I need to be sure of his loyalty but over the issue of humans I find I'm not.

"He can have no reason to fail you in a fair test. Jacinta, I trust you more than anyone I know. I will await your word. If he is deliberately failing you or using it as an opportunity to bully you, let me know."

"What will you do then?" Jacinta asked, incredulous and angry.

"Discuss this with no one," Elena commanded. "I will not make the same mistake twice. There is no longer room in my kingdom for elves who do not tolerate humans."

"So you would put me in a position of creating a blood enemy of him and his family?"

"Well, not of him," Elena said grimly.

Jacinta suppressed a shiver, what her mother meant was obvious.

"Tell me in private. I suspect he will admit to his behaviour. He won't do anything dangerous. He would not harm my daughter, whatever else. These elves simply want to put humans back in 'their place', not get rid of them."

Well, that's reassuring! Jacinta thought, her heart racing in fear. My mother thinks he won't kill me out of hand. Is that meant to reassure me?

"If he's too clever and resists in some way without making it obvious, I will re-assign you. But then our Lord Drakon will be a marked man," Elena continued. "I'm sorry to do this to you, Jacinta, but you are a daughter to the elf queen and the Warlord .You have countless enemies that you don't know about. I am simply asking you to flush one out into the open. I will attend to the digging for the moment and then I will go and discuss this with Drakon. Tomorrow would be a good time, I think."

Jacinta waited, in shock, as her mother nudged her horse to take her down to where the others were getting ready to set up camp.

A small group of elves continued to reject the idea of equality between Elf-kin and Human-kind. They were happy with an alliance, but they insisted elvish dominance must continue. After Nikan's failed coup and its aftermath, none would dare express such ideas openly. Elena needed to know whether this would affect Drakon's loyalty.

Her mother had decided to use her as bait.

And Elena, great Queen of the Eastern Elves, hadn't phrased it as a request.

* * *

Jacinta was up at first light, as always, and she meditated as she greeted the dawn. She was terrified at the prospect of meeting with Drakon. She was afraid of him, but her worst fear was not what he might do to her, but that she might be forced to do to him.

Drakon hadn't come to talk to her himself, he sent one of his elves to tell her to meet him in a small clearing by a little stream. As Jacinta walked slowly up, he had a look on his face as if he had bitten on something sour.

"You walk like an elephant through the woods, human," he spat. "The Queen wishes me to see if I can teach anything to her human pet. I expect not!"

Jacinta flushed angrily but made no reply. Drakon waited, staring at the girl who watched him in silence. Eventually he nodded reluctantly.

"Ah, at least you have learnt not to fill my ears with your endless human prattle," Drakon conceded, surprised by her restraint. "Do you know anything of the sword?"

"No, Lord." Jacinta replied.

"Fighting with knives?" Drakon continued.

"No sir, I killed two men with a small fishing knife but that was luck, not skill."

Despite himself, Drakon found himself smiling, as he looked at the Gypsy girl speculatively.

"So that was true, what they said about the pirates?"

"I don't know what you have been told, sir."

Despite himself, Drakon's smile broadened and he shook his head. Spoken like an elf!

But she wasn't an elf.

"You won't be able to match an elf in speed and accuracy," he said.

Jacinta made no reply, simply waited.

Nothing was left to Drakon but to continue. He gave her a small practice sword he had carefully selected. It was of heavy seasoned wood and had thin metal bound to it to mimic the balance of an elf sword, Jacinta's size.

Still facing her, he stepped back and drew his sword and held its point towards Jacinta.

"Watch exactly what I do!" Drakon barked and went through a short routine with the sword.

After watching, Jacinta closed her eyes to fix it in her mind.

"Now you!" It would have been better if he also showed her by facing the same way or had shown her more than once. Jacinta tried her best to repeat it.

"Stupid human! Human clown!" Drakon shouted in contempt. "You are so slow and so clumsy. How can I possibly teach you? Why do you waste my time? Why don't you just go away now and save us both the trouble?"

Jacinta stared at him levelly, without expression, and waited. Drakon spat on the ground and then walked round and showed her the grip, the stances and how to move her body. He watched her a few more times, a bored expression on his face. Then he showed her two more sequences but didn't ask her to practise them.

"You have done well … for a human. You didn't fail the first day of testing. You are permitted one question."

Jacinta silently bowed her head slightly, politely, maintaining eye contact. She knew what he wanted her to ask and what his answer would be.

Drakon hesitated a moment when she didn't ask anything. "Same time tomorrow," he said and turned his back and walked away.

Jacinta stayed behind to practise all she had seen, trying to get the stance and rhythm right. This included the two he hadn't tested her on. It would be part of tomorrow's test, she knew.

She started very slowly with each one till she had got them as good as she could and then she gradually picked up the speed, trying to concentrate on speed and balance, not power.

* * *

A small delegation of elves had asked for an audience with Elena. She noted it included every junior elf officer and was led by Elgar, (elf spear) Drakon's second in command, as it filed into her tent.

"Great Queen," Elgar started stiffly. "I wish to draw your attention to a very grave matter that is concerning all my men."

Elena felt a chill of alarm, what could be so serious? Was there tension brewing between the elves and the Greeks? Then she realised Drakon was missing.

"We are concerned about the behaviour of Drakon, my Lady. Surely you must be aware of his treatment of your daughter."

So that was it! A part of Elena felt a surge of fear and a flush of shame. She had been completely distracted and it had gone from her mind. She should have been watching what Drakon was doing with her daughter. Jacinta was supposed to tell her if anything was wrong, but what sort of mother was she? She had sent her daughter knowingly into this situation. Had it been three weeks already?

Why hadn't Jacinta complained?

"Do you want to register a formal complaint? It is your right."

"We don't want to go that far, great Lady. Lord Drakon has been liked, but the men are now turning against him. The young girl has more than passed every realistic test but he keeps pushing her beyond any reason. He simply wants to break her, it'll ruin her completely. Some of the men are thinking of challenging him."

Elena was deeply shocked. Who would challenge a swordsman like Drakon?

Such a thing threatened Drakon's command and everyone in it. At the same time she felt a surge of pride in her daughter, that the men would support her against their own commander.

Just then, Galenos, the veteran Greek commander, burst in. "Sorry to interrupt, Great Queen, but I hear you are talking about how that, er ... elf ... is treating that brave little daughter of yours."

"She hasn't complained to me," Elena replied, a bit irritated that so many were telling her how to be a mother.

"Nor will she!" Galenos replied angrily.

"Well, thank you all for your concern," Elena said, ready to dismiss them. "I will go right this minute and talk to my daughter and see if she has any complaints."

"It will have to wait till the morning, the poor girl has fallen asleep holding her supper bowl with none of it touched at all. You may have missed she's lost a lot of weight." Galenos's disapproval of the queen hung thickly in the air.

He turned and left, without asking her leave.

* * *

Elena had hardly slept that night.

She sat waiting for Jacinta to come back from her morning meditation. The girl looked desperately weary despite having slept like the dead. Elena was dismayed to see she had lost so much weight and her face was looking thin and drawn.

"Jacinta, how much longer will this testing go on?"

Jacinta smiled humourlessly. "He's waiting for me to ask."

"Jacinta, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have got you involved with this. It's plain to everyone what Drakon's attitude is. Unless I act, I will have a mutiny. I am putting a stop to this right now."

Jacinta looked at her mother angrily. "It's a bit late to worry about me now, isn't it, Mother?" she said bitterly. "Perhaps you should never have given this problem to me, I don't know, but you did. I'm handling this the only way I know, and what are you going to do? You are going to take it out of my hands! You will cause me to fail. All I have tried to do and all I've gone through will be wasted. Why? Because it makes you look bad.

"Do you expect me to be grateful? Well, I won't forgive you!

"Didn't you say you wouldn't act until I complained? Didn't you say you trusted me? Was that true or were you just using me? Now, if you'll excuse me, if I don't hurry I won't be able to eat before I start, though I don't feel very hungry lately."

Elena felt like she had been slapped. After her daughter pushed past her, she stood for some time head bowed, overwhelmed by shame. She deserved that.

She had sent her daughter to spy for her and set a trap. Her daughter, instead, was playing the dangerous game of trying to outlast Drakon's hatred.

It was Elena who was caught in the trap that she herself had set. If she acted, it would destroy all Jacinta was trying to do. If she didn't act, her personal guard would mutiny and would be destroyed as an elite fighting force. Not to mention her drowning in her own awful guilt. Elena never expected it to go this far.

Jacinta was right. She did say she trusted her daughter. Jacinta had better be right this time, and soon!

Elena turned and made her unhappy way back to the camp.

* * *

Drakon smiled as he saw the girl walking through the bush to the training ground.

He had despised humans. It was how he was taught. He was furious when asked to train the adopted orphan of the queen. At first he made it harder and harder, hoping to drive her away or find an excuse to fail her, but she kept coming back.

He expected her to be clumsy but she had extraordinary speed and balance for a human and he had never met anyone who could learn so fast.

One day he realised, with shock, just how much he looked forward to their sessions and how proud he was of what she could do. She was already at the level of someone who had trained for a long time.

"Hello, my little human," he said gently.

Jacinta stared at him without any expression. She seemed to look tired or did she look sad or even bored? He was not used to how young humans were supposed to look.

"You have done well, better than I had ever expected. Today I will teach you to run like an elf."

As usual, he got no reply beyond a respectful nod.

So he set off, running at first not too fast in consideration for her size and the fact she was a human and not an elf, but Jacinta was keeping up so he found himself running faster, and she doggedly kept up.

Elves love to run and for a moment he forgot himself in the joy of running through the trees and then it happened.

Jacinta stumbled and crashed heavily into the brush.

He ran anxiously back to find her on her hands and knees, dry retching. With a shock it came to him. He had a flash of how she looked only a few weeks ago. Something was wrong, far wrong. She was pale and thin and unhappy looking.

Jacinta was sick! Shame washed over him. He had done this to her.

He had believed elves were better than humans and what had he done? He had bullied this brave girl; simply because he could. He made her sick from exhaustion and perhaps caused her serious harm. Did that make him better than her?

No!

Jacinta had held a mirror up for him and he didn't like what he saw. She was more than worthy, but he was not worthy of her.

Jacinta was weakly wiping at the blood that was seeping from her chin as he squatted down beside her. She was panting, head bowed and eyes screwed tight against tears.

"You win," she said hoarsely.

"What do you mean?" he asked, with a surge of fear.

"I will tell Mother that it was I who failed, not you that caused it. Please, please just leave me."

Jacinta was about to burst out crying. That would complete her humiliation in front of the elf.

Drakon felt his whole body was on fire with shame as he watched the Gypsy girl.

"Jacinta, listen to me," he said urgently. "I used to think elves were better but it only shows how stupid I was. You are more than worthy. You are the best pupil I have ever had the privilege to meet. If you will forgive me, I will teach you all I can."

"Thank you!" Jacinta threw her arms around him excitedly and pulled him to her, kissing him firmly on the lips, overcome with relief. Then she drew back, thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Lord. I hope I didn't get any of my blood over you and I promise I won't kiss you again, sir!" she said quickly.

Drakon was surprised as much by the kiss as by his disappointment to hear that it wouldn't be repeated. He was almost double her age but he still enjoyed that kiss. It also made him feel better. He had made an awful mistake, but he was forgiven. Jacinta had saved him … from himself.

Typical of Jacinta, he realised.

"This time you really must promise to tell me if I'm driving you too hard," Drakon said, helping her up.

Jacinta grinned back at him. "I'm not very good at that, sir."

Drakon was thoughtful for a minute then roared with laughter. "No you're not, are you, little human?

"Well, first things first. I'm taking you back to camp right now and I'm going to stand over you till you eat a large lunch. I'm not used to human girls going through their growth spurt but I do know that too much speed training and not enough food can leave you stunted. You'll need some strength training as well with lots of meat."

Jacinta laughed. "You sound just like my father."

Drakon ruffled her hair affectionately and hugged her. He felt like taking her hand but resisted the impulse, but it was still nice to stroll back to camp, talking more like friends. As the pair walked back to the camp, many marked the change. Drakon the human hater was chatting and laughing with his young human pupil.

There was hardly time for Drakon to clean her wound and heat Jacinta's milk before Elena, who had been at the base camp, came running up. She had heard something had happened to her daughter. She was in a fury, ready to attack Drakon, with her bare hands if need be!

"What's wrong?" she demanded angrily.

"Don't worry, my queen, that's just a scratch. We came back because it's my turn to serve Jacinta lunch," he said with a broad smile. "We are having a bit of a celebration. I've finally realised just what a stupid elf I am.

"Regardless of this, though, Jacinta has forgiven me, and has done me the honour of agreeing to be my student. You have a remarkable daughter here. But of course you do. I didn't mean offence by saying that."

Elena looked at him sharply but she was astounded to see he was completely serious.

"If I am to stop being stupid," he continued loudly, for any nearby to hear, "I have to learn about humility. I owe Jacinta a deep apology and I don't mind who knows it. Blindness made me underestimate your wonderful daughter."

"You and me both, Drakon," Elena whispered quietly.

Over Drakon's shoulder, she could see her daughter. Jacinta looked tired but contented as she sipped her warm milk. She glanced over her mug at her mother and mouthed, "I told you so!"

Elena smiled, helplessly shaking her head, and mouthed back, "You think you're so clever!"

Jacinta simply smiled and nodded.

Elena felt shaky as relief flooded through her. How on earth could the Great Queen of the Mighty Elves and Hakeem the feared Warlord of the East keep up with their daughter, a mere Gypsy orphan? They simply didn't have a chance!

She chuckled weakly and stuck out her tongue at her daughter in a gesture most unlike a royal elf.

* * *

Drakon wouldn't stop talking about Jacinta to anyone prepared to listen.

She was amazingly powerful for one so young. She was lightning fast and as sure as a cat. She could already hold her own against many bigger opponents. What she lost in size she made up in skill and bravery.

Drakon believed Jacinta would grow into the best or near the best swords-woman for an age, human or elf. He hadn't really believed what they had said about her father, pitted against Nikan who was known to be a fine swordsman. He appreciated it now, since he met Jacinta, Hakeem's pupil.

Jacinta had designed her own impressive way of focusing on speed and balance using her father's teachings. She always started by doing the exercises and set-moves that Drakon showed her at an extra slow speed, perfecting her position and the co-ordination of her mind and body, until she was sure she was able to do it as perfectly as she could. Then she would repeat them faster and then progressively faster and faster until she was painting and sweating.

Then she would rest, usually only briefly, and start again.

She took up the sword with her light peltastēs shield and tried to gain a similar grace using both of those.

Drakon got her to show him some of the other things she had learnt, like the human art of unarmed fighting. When she demonstrated this by throwing him into the bushes, he couldn't stop laughing.

Some accused him of having a crush on the young girl. He would say nothing to that, but sometimes he would actually blush. He was twice Jacinta's age.

Everyone, especially Drakon, now watched Jacinta carefully and nagged her to eat large protein meals and get enough rest. Jacinta complained good-naturedly that she had a camp full of grandmothers watching her, or that Drakon wasn't her mother. He just smiled and continued to fuss just as much.

It wasn't needed, really. She was no longer run down. Jacinta had regained a huge appetite, she was eating almost enough for a full-grown warrior and she had no trouble sleeping at all.

* * *

Elena was standing at the base camp looking out of the plain. Her mind was far away when Galenos walked up behind her.

"My Lady, I want to talk to you about moving the rest of the camp up to the top of the hill. Up there, I can keep you safer."

"Very well, I would be grateful if you see to it. Do you need me to talk separately with the elves?"

"No, Queen. There is no problem between the humans and the elves now. Drakon and I will make sure it stays that way. I am glad to work with your elves, if you don't mind me saying so, the rest of my men feel the same."

In the background they could hear the furious sound of swords clashing interspersed with laughter from a girl and an elf. Then there was a thud and Drakon shouted in surprise.

"How did you do that? You can't have done that! ... Alright , alright you win."

Galenos chuckled. "I don't know what magic your wonderful daughter has wrought with Drakon but even I am finding I'm starting to like him. I apologise for my earlier rudeness, it was out of concern for Jacinta."

"Of course," Elena nodded. "And please speak your mind whenever you need to in future. Privately would have been better. Did you know Jacinta was furious with me when I said I was going to intervene? She said I needed to trust her. She would tell me when there was no hope for Drakon.

"I won't say she left me feeling very good about myself as a mother. It was me who put her in that impossible position. Jacinta is not known for giving up easily, but even I find it hard to fully believe what she could achieve in the end."

Galenos shook his head. "I wouldn't have thought it was possible. I always thought some people would never change."

Elena chuckled. "She said she wouldn't kiss him again."

Galenos laughed. "That was one way to break his resistance down. That's not what I wanted to do to him, though. I think in a year or two you're going to have your hands full with that daughter of yours."

Elena smiled fondly. "Don't you think she has it all over her parents now?"

Galenos nodded. "I'm serious," he said laughing. "You wait for the period when she is changing into a woman. She will be feeling new feelings and thinking about boys. We Greeks call it the time of "hysteria" we say the awakening of womanhood causes the hystera (womb) to travel through the body and cause great trouble."

Elena groaned. "You have a knack of making me feel like I'm hopeless as a mother, Galenos."

"Not with what you have produced in Jacinta so far. But you'll have that and more," Galenos chuckled. "We also say 'the most beautiful butterfly starts from something not quite so nice."'

Elena laughed. "A grub? I don't think it'll be as bad as that, she's too sensible. But will she force Hakeem and I to stand anxiously aside and trust her? You know, I don't think I could love her more or be more proud." Her eyes were glistening. "That's not possible, Galenos."

* * *

It had stormed last night; lightning, lashing wind and torrents of water had tried to shake the ancient mountain fortress of Agai, the ancestral home of the Argead dynasty. There was no chance, the fortress had stood for hundreds of years.

After they had made love for the second time that night, Olympias had left Philippos snoring in the bed and stood near the window to enjoy the raw power of the tempest.

Now in the morning the forest and meadows looked so green and fresh. She could hear the roar of the mountain waterfall, swollen by the early storm. It was in a hurry to join the great Aliákmon River in the plains somewhere below.

Olympias loved the mountains. It reminded her of Ápeiros and even more of Dōdṓnā. Life was simpler when she was serving as a novice to the sisters of the forest, at least for a while. The mountains always made her feel a peace that she sometimes thought lost to her forever.

The mountain fortress of Agai, the old capital, lay in the foothills of the Pieria Mountains, a small range north across a plain from the more famous Mount Olympias. The royal quarters were modest compared to the grand palace of Pella, but it was still in a three-storey building on a plateau just below the old Akropolis.

Philippos was awake, watching her standing naked near the window and feeling more relaxed and happy than he had been for some time.

"Come here, wife," he called softly.

"So that is why you Makedónes named this 'the place of the goats'."

Olympias gave him a mischievous look as she referred to the local meaning of the name 'Agai'. "You are insatiable!"

Philippos smiled; there was really no one like Olympias. Despite all that had happened, he couldn't feel truly happy without her. In many ways they were an excellent match, they were so alike. The intensity of what drove them increased their passion for each other.

He realised that though she loved the power of being the queen, her greatest ambitions were really for him and her son. She could be content to live her need for power through them.

The problem was she wanted him to be her Philippos. The worst possible thing Philippos could do was to make her feel jealous or insecure, then her wrath was terrible.

Philippos owned everyone around himself, but he didn't want anyone to own him and he seemed to be driven to seek out women. He chuckled; maybe it was the goats.

Now, watching her climbing back to kiss him, he wondered how they had let everything get that bad between them.

Olympias, too, was in a pensive mood. "Philippos, love, you have done all you wanted to. Can you not stop? Why don't we go away somewhere, just the two of us?"

"Are you mad, woman?" Philippos laughed in shock and sat right up. It was the last thing he had ever expected to hear from Olympias.

"I have an empire to rule. I am making ready to conquer Anatolē."

Olympias shuddered. "Please, love. Leave that to our son. I have seen it. You will never see Anatolē. If you stay as king you will die!"

She was actually crying and she got closer and rested her head on his chest.

"Now, now! Don't believe your own tales, woman," he said, stroking her hair and trying to calm her. "Besides, where would I go?"

"I don't care, Philippos. I will follow you anywhere. You could retire."

"Me? Retire, now that would be something. Cheer up, I'm not dead yet. I am a warrior and will face whatever fate has in store for me."

He took her in his arms. She made hardly a sound, but her tears continued to wet his chest.

* * *

While cooler weather was coming to the mountains the last few days of summer were stiflingly hot in the valley; only evening brought any rest for the weary humans and elves.

They needed to dig a deep pit, and likely several, to identify where they were so that they could orientate Elena's map. The Temple of the Great Mother was in a large compound on the outskirts of the city.

It was not safe to hire men so everyone not on guard duty had to join in. They were all tired, dirty, aching and sweaty. Elves can't tan like humans and sunburn added to their misery. Elena was experimenting with a little local clay and herbal sap to prevent it.

Jacinta was grubby and sweaty from her training. She hadn't got down to the river for a proper bath for three days. If only they could find a water source closer to the summit of the hill.

The tettix (cicadas) were deafening during the heat of the day but tonight had brought a pleasant evening breeze from the far away sea, and their call had softened to a gentle "brrr".

The elves could feel the echo of the pain and sadness from the cities fall, but on a night like tonight it was not possible to feel anything other than the Great Mother's love.

The sun had set and the land was fading from purple to black. The fire sent showers of sparks high into the evening sky. The stars sprinkled the heavens with a dazzling array. The humans sat drinking the peaceful beauty of the night. The elves sat as if carved out of the landscape. No one talked above a whisper.

"Mum," Jacinta said sleepily. "Do you think Hakeem can see the same stars tonight? He's out there somewhere. It makes me feel close to him watching the heavens, knowing he can see them too."

* * *

Hakeem was on a scouting party on foot with fifty of his elves in the hill country.

They were trying to sleep encamped deep in enemy territory guarded by silent, watchful sentries. A gentle touch on the foot meant "wake in silence". To try anything else with a sleeping elf warrior would only get your throat cut.

They had just eaten cold, dry rations. There would be no fire. It had been a hot day and Hakeem had not brought his coat. The elves had taught him to cover himself with fresh grass and moist green leaves. Dry leaves, they said, made too much noise.

He was also thinking of Elena and Jacinta and missing them terribly, as he was trying to sleep in the darkness.

It was cooler in the evening in the hill country. The elves had reassured him that the damp leaves were just as warm as the dry ones. He heard them whispering to each other how comfortable they were as he shivered, trying to get warm.

It was for his benefit, he knew. The elves have a sense of humour all of their own.

 

 

Chapter 18: Makedónes in the Troad

The soldiers were crowded into the boats, barely moving, all of them silent.

In the faint half-light the Troad shore looked black and menacing. There was little wind and the only sound was the lapping of the waves and the muffled creak of the oars. The unnamed beach they were making for was so remote and inaccessible that it couldn't be guarded or watched.

Erastos, the veteran leader of the forward force shivered, not just from the predawn chill. He didn't usually feel this frightened before a campaign. He hoped he wasn't having a premonition of what was to come.

The Warlord had a small force in Bithynia, ranging far and wide, killing all the Makedónes he came upon. Movement outside the strong points had become perilous. Parmenion had two thousand men trying to hunt Hakeem down but so far Hakeem and those he led had proven impossible to find.

So Erastos had been sent to set up an outpost in the enemy's territory and scout out the local area. Three days later he would be joined by ninety sailors. Cross country in this wild and remote area they would still be within a day's march from Lampsakos, a small town almost at the eastern end of the Hellespontos.

They were to attack Lampsakos at night, make off with three of the enemy warships and burn the other two that he had been told were stationed there.

It was not much more than a mile to cross the Hellespontos to the Thráki side, they controlled, and then a few more miles to a safe harbour.

It would boost the morale of Parmenion's troops. It would teach the enemy a lesson and it would cause them to divert more men closer to home.

It would allow Parmenion to regain the momentum in the war.

It was such a simple clear plan ... and it was a thoroughly stupid idea.

His men had to be smuggled in at night. There had been no forward scouting. They knew nothing about the land defences or the defences around Lampsakos or the possibility of patrolling enemy-warships. They were relying on series of vague hints and guesses.

He would be going blind into enemy territory every single step of the way until he finally came home across the Hellespontos again. He would have uncertain supply lines and uncertain means of escape. It was a bit like setting one's hand in a trap to see if it was armed.

And yet, Erastos had his orders.

The ship jerked as it grounded and Erastos followed his men swarming over the side. He missed the hold on the rope, and … sank like a stone.

Encumbered by his kit and his ration pack, he couldn't swim. He couldn't even see the surface above him in the darkness. He was about to end his military career by drowning.

Before this could happen a strong hand reached down and grabbed him by the pack and pulled him up.

"Can't have you drowning on us, sir!" The grinning marine Commander, Árgos, laughed as he rescued him. "Don't worry, we won't lose any of your hoplitai but some will be definitely water logged."

Erastos was coughing and too breathless to reply. Árgos lifted and pushed him till he could feel the bottom under his feet and was able to grab at the rope netting on the side of the ship. Then Erastos, never a great swimmer and now weighed down by a full and sodden kit, commenced a gruelling struggle up the small pebbly beach.

The marines were trotting forwards to secure the beach by the time he reached the patch of sand and grass on rubbery legs. Some of his hoplitai flopped exhaustedly on the sand while the others moved to help the marines.

Erastos stood. It was all he could do.

Or at least he battled to stay standing. He needed to show his men he wasn't tired, but for a moment he couldn't issue orders and left it to Árgos. It was all he could do not to bend over with exhaustion.

Last off the warship were fifty Skythian mercenaries. Their composite bows and equipment were wrapped in lightly oiled animal skins and had to be handled like some rare treasure. They were made from layers of horn on the bow-string side, then hard wood and then tendon on the outside, all bound and glued together. The force needed to fully draw the short Skythian composite bows was the equivalent of a full size bow. Dampness would loosen the animal glue and bindings, and they would disintegrate, sometimes during use.

The hemp bow strings, even when coated with extra beeswax, and the feathering glued into slots on the arrows would scarcely welcome contact with sea-water either.

The Makedóne sailors hadn't even beached their ships. As soon as they let all the soldiers over the side, they pushed off. They were now rowing with speed back to the Makedóne side. They would be back just before dawn of third day. Erastos watched them depart in silence.

It all had a sense of finality.

He and his men were on their own.

There was no outcry, no horn, and no signal smoke on the hill, so the landing was unopposed. Erastos viewed the land anxiously. The dark landscape seemed unusually silent, conveying a sense of menace. Perhaps it was his imagination, but it felt like they were being watched.

As the light strengthened, it revealed a small grey pebbly beach isolated and backed by a steep, scrubby hillside but as the detail got clearer Erastos saw just how uneven and heavily eroded the terrain was.

The poor soil on the slope was covered mostly by tufts of grass and thick, low shrubs, some looking half-dead. There was gorse, dwarf oak and other stunted bushes that Erastos didn't know the name of. Some of the prickle bushes looked sharp enough to cut through flesh and clothing.

It was impossible country for hoplitai. You could hide a taxis (legion) in there and never see it. That would be fine as long as it was his own men and not the enemy that was doing the hiding.

He wondered again, who was the fool that had sent them here.

With an effort he mentally shook himself and pushed away a brooding sense of unease. He was letting his imagination get to him. Had he been at war too long and was losing his nerve?

But he couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched and wanted to scout the area thoroughly before moving into it. He hadn't remained alive this long by ignoring his instincts.

He glanced around to decide where to set up camp. There was a gully close to the beach which was sheltered. They would set up there first. Then all he needed to do was set up another base on the high ground somewhere where there was cover.

He sent out his scouts and assigned some men to select the timber (such as it was), warning them not to wander too far until the scouts reported. Others he started digging in around the base camp while the marines helped around, arranged cooking fires and posted guards. The sound of the wood cutting echoed across the small clearing.

* * *

As the early part of the morning wore on Erastos's sense of forebode hadn't settled. Instead it was getting stronger.

He simply couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He noticed the marines had suddenly stopped setting up camp and were looking alert. They were gathering up their weapons. Árgos was moving purposely towards him in a crouch.

It was all too quiet.

He could not hear any nearby birds over the sound of men gathering wood. Where were the birds?

Then he realised, with horror, he had sent more men than that to gather wood.

There had been no outcry, there was no struggle. For that matter, his scouts hadn't returned.

He scanned the hill nervously, something was out there.

"Decadarchos," (sergeant), he ordered. "Call those other men back and take your stichos and see if you can locate any signs of the missing wood choppers. Don't go too far and by all the Gods be careful."