Lying in his bed, Himilco took a sip of chilled wine and hummed with satisfaction. The wine was not necessarily the freshest in quality, having been brought over from the homeland back in the fall. However, if there was one advantage to living in a climate that saw snowfall in winter, it was that it was far easier to make and keep things cool, not to mention keep them for going bad. He had had a small hut built behind his villa where he would have his food stored amid harvested snow and ice, inspired by the mudbrick domes the Persians of the distant east would build for that purpose.
Nonetheless, the Sophet could not deny that even his food supply was dwindling with each passing day of winter. His own belly must have shrunk by a third since the season began, since he did not want to exhaust what he had too soon. Maybe that by itself was a good thing, given how Absalon had always mocked Himilco’s corpulence, but not everyone in the colony had as much to store.
“The longer the winter goes on, the more I believe coming here was a mistake,” Bomilcar, the slim young man with whom Himilco shared his bed, said. “At the very least, we should have sailed further south as well as west. The crops we brought over could not grow in this weather, and what food we have been able to gather and import will run out in a month.”
“I wish I could tell you not to worry so much, my love, but I have the same worries you do,” Himilco said. “But, if the gods let us make it through, we can adapt. We’ll plant the wheat and barley in the spring instead of the fall, and we’ll let the Atlanteans teach us how to grow their own crops. Without their generosity, we wouldn’t have even made it this far.”
“We do owe them a lot. So much, in fact, that I regret even settling on their land. Answer me this, why do we so often sail to other people’s lands and build on them as if they were our own? Should we not leave the people there alone?”
“I understand, Bomilcar, which is why I cannot support Absalon’s dreams of conquest and empire. But, that said, when we built this town, we did not tear down any settlements already established there. And I believe the Atlanteans we have met are as grateful for the trade between us as we should be. Besides, everyone settles on lands that did not belong to them originally. Who is to say the Atlanteans didn’t come to this vast land from elsewhere, too?”
“Perhaps so, but I still maintain that this is not the right climate for us. Like I said, we should have gone further south. The lands there would be warmer, at least.”
Bomilcar pulled the bedsheets onto himself to form a thick cocoon, with Himilco having to scoot toward his side of the bed to share that warmth.
“That is likely true,” Himilco said. “But not all warm climates are the same. Think of the lands the navigator Hanno found a couple hundred years ago, lands in the far south of our own Africa. Those lands were even hotter than ours, and much muggier. We’d be complaining of constant rain and humidity instead of cold. It could be lands like those that lie south of where we’ve landed in Atlantis.”
“We should send an expedition to explore the south of Atlantis, then,” Bomilcar replied. “See if there is habitable land as well as more peoples we can trade with. If we find a spot more habitable than this one, we should move over there, if we must have a colony on this continent at all.”
“I agree with the exploration part, but I don’t know about all of us moving over there. It would be a tremendous waste to leave behind everything we’ve built over the summer here. And what of the Atlanteans nearby? Would they want to see us all depart?”
“They might consider us a drain more than an ally, to tell you the truth. We would be doing them a favor by leaving their land. They’d have less to share and more for themselves, even if they wouldn’t get any more of our iron.”
“Do not forget that we are protecting them from their enemies as well. Who knows what would happen to them if we left them behind? They could be destroyed!”
Bomilcar hesitated to scratch his shaved scalp in thought. “I see what you mean there. If their survival does depend on us as much as the opposite, I suppose we have no choice but to stay. Still, you should stand up to your rival Sophet. You can’t let him get away with having so many people slaughtered in the name of his ambitions.”
“Believe me, I wouldn’t, except you know how the Senate voted. I cannot contradict them. Doing so would make me no better than a Greek tyrant.”
“Could you not instead arrange a second vote in the springtime? See if they’re still willing to go to war after everything we’d have lost over the winter?”
“I could, but those who favor war will just call for reinforcements coming over with the next shipment or two. It wouldn’t change much.”
“Fair enough. But must you simply sit by and watch while Absalon’s grandson does whatever he wants to the Atlantean natives? Is there really nothing you can do?”
Himilco stared into the fireplace at the far side of the bedchamber and sighed. The last thing he wanted was more bloodshed and carnage, especially given the terrible war with Rome was so recent a memory. But, as he had told Bomilcar, he could not defy the will of the Senate, they who had supported his opponent by a significant majority. He was one of the two most powerful men in all the colony, and yet never had he felt so powerless in his life.
“Sometimes, all you are able to do is sit back and let things come to pass,” Himilco said. “But, mark my words, my love. If this war does not go well for our side—that is to say, if Absalon and Malchus somehow botch it—I will do whatever I can to talk them into calling it off. Now, enough of this talk of war and colonization for the night. How about some more fun?”
And so the two men came together, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies underneath the bed sheets.