On the northwestern edge of the village squatted a hut even lower than the rest, seated under the twisted branches of a mature oak tree. Leaning alongside this simple dwelling was an even smaller shed built of branches and thatch, with sheep and pig bones strewn underneath it. After Philos gave Xiphos one more rub on his mane, the lion retreated to this makeshift kennel to stretch himself and rest.
The hut’s door opened, and out walked a woman of middle years who laid a leg of roasted meat in front of Xiphos. In an instant, he snatched and tore into it with ravenous enthusiasm.
Philos grinned at Itaweret. “He likes to hunt on his own, but he appreciates my mother’s cooking even more.”
The older woman nodded with a chuckle. “Indeed, he does. And I am so glad to see both of you home. Did you find the missing ewe?”
“A bear got her, but Xiphos got him in turn. And I, um, brought a couple of guests with me home. Itaweret and Bek, meet my mother Rhea.”
Rhea’s eyes widened over a dropped jaw as she examined the two Egyptians. “Why, by Zeus and all the other gods! What are they doing over here of all places?”
“We are refugees from Per-Pehu,” Bek said. “And we need shelter for the night.”
Itaweret looked up to the tip of her scepter. “Plus, we believe there is something of great importance here. Our goddess Mut told us so.”
Rhea crossed her arms. “What do you mean, your goddess told you there was something important here? We’ll be more than happy to be your hosts, but this is a very strange turn of events.”
Bek stretched his arms and shook his feet. “Let us explain later. We’ve been trudging through the wilds for two days, so we’re rather worn out.”
Rhea said nothing more as she opened the door and let them all in. Inside the hut, an earthy smell coming off from the walls mingled with that of smoke from a hearth burning in the middle of the room, with a tiny hole in the thatched roof letting the smoke out. Benches formed a ring around this fire, and on one of these slept a plump man whose gray-striped beard implied an age comparable to Rhea’s. The moment the door closed, the man hauled himself onto his backside with a yawning groan and shook his head.
Rhea plucked a clay bottle from one of the shelves projecting from the walls and handed it to him. “Your son’s home with company, so be nice.”
Her husband took a swig from the bottle and let out a belch that a hippopotamus would have envied. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard it all through the door. Still a bit of a shocker to see Egyptians in this little cluster of mud huts, though.”
Itaweret waved away the stench of his breath. “You’re Metrophanes, aren’t you?”
He smacked his lips. “Sorry to disappoint you. So, what’s this I hear about the gods telling you something could be found in these parts?”
Taking her seat on the bench across the hearth from Metrophanes, Itaweret laid the scepter of Mut over her thighs and brushed dust off its upper tip. “First, an explanation for why we’re here. Our city, Per-Pehu, has fallen to King Scylax of Mycenae. He’s sacked it and enslaved everyone he hasn’t slain.”
Silence hung in the room as Metrophanes lowered his head, his lips moving without speech. The bottle slipped from his fingers and crashed onto the floor, spilling what remained of the wine within.
Metrophanes’s eyes glistened. “I should have known…I shouldn’t left it to him…”
Bek leaned towards him. “Let what to him?”
Rising to his feet, Metrophanes laid his hands on Philos and Rhea’s shoulders. “I never would have thought I’d needed to tell any of you this until today. Scylax…is my brother. My younger brother.”
A quivering Philos stepped back from his father, the color draining from his face and then returning in full force. “How could you…how could you hide something like that from everyone?”
“And how, by Apep, did you end up a shepherd’s father, anyway?” Bek asked.
Metrophanes sighed. “Philos, you know I told you that I was abducted by bandits on a hunting trip and then sold into slavery, until I earned my freedom back and wandered over here where I had you. All that was true. What I did not tell you is what my life was like before that all happened. For it was I who was the king of Mycenae before Scylax.
“And what a burden it was! You may imagine that kingship is a life of luxury and power, but no. It is a life restrained by responsibility and plagued with anxious distrust. You see, I was never the most popular with my own court. The people loved me, sure, for I did everything I could to rule with justice, compassion, and charity—”
“Why could your courtiers dislike you for that?” Itaweret asked.
Metrophanes picked up a few shards of the broken bottle and fondled them together as if they were silver coins. “The thing is, if you are king, benevolence is expensive. And if you are to spend your treasury on behalf of the poor and helpless, whence must your taxes come? From the wealthy and well-off, of course!”
Bek grunted. “It’s like my father used to say. No one cries about taxes more than the rich.”
Metrophanes gave a coughing laugh. “Tell me about it! Not a day went by without me hearing some pampered bastard telling me I was too generous, not to mention too soft and cowardly. What they respect is what they see as strength, what they see as courage, and what they think will make them yet richer. What they wanted was a conquering and pillaging warrior, a man like Scylax.”
“Do you think it could have been he who had something to do with those bandits who captured you?” Itaweret said. “If he had your court’s favor, they—or possibly the man himself—could have hired them to get rid of you and have him take your place?”
Metrophanes shrugged. “I’ve considered that, but cannot prove it. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve no intention of going back to Mycenae.”
Itaweret gasped, rose to her feet, and clenched her hands onto her scepter. “You mean, you’re simply going to let Scylax go around, wiping out cities and dragging entire chunks of humanity into bondage? Shame on you, O Metrophanes of Mycenae!”
“Don’t you dare misunderstand me like that, young lady! I don’t approve of what Scylax has done to your people anymore than anyone else. But how, by Hades, could I possibly take my throne back from him? You’d have to be a fool if you think I can talk old Damian into rallying the village against the might of Mycenae!”
“Then why not speak to one of the other Greek cities?” Bek said. “There’s got to be at least one that can stand up to Scylax?”
Metrophanes shook his head. “That’s assuming he doesn’t befriend them first. He always did want all the Greeks to unite into one mighty empire. What you’d need against that is an even bigger one.”
Philos snapped his fingers. “Like the Trojans! They’re surely big enough to conquer all the Greeks if they wanted to. All we’d have to do is cross the sea to the east and ask for their aid!”
“Don’t be silly, boy. You’ve neither the skills of a sailor nor the tongue of a diplomat. Oh, and you barely even know how to manage a herd of sheep, never mind a whole kingdom of men. Do you seriously see yourself as inheriting any throne from me?”
“That’s it! I’ve had it with your excuses!” Bek said. “I am the son of Per-Pehu’s Great Chief. I believe I’ve studied enough statecraft to teach it to your son. And if nobody else here can, I can speak to the Trojans on his behalf. You’ve nothing stopping you from taking what’s rightfully yours!”
Metrophanes waddled over to the shelf where the bottles of wine stood and reached for another one. It was Rhea who pulled his arm away before he could lay a finger on the bottle.
She then slapped him across the cheek. “You’ve had enough, husband. You can’t drink this all away. Is that the example you want to set for our son?”
With a deep breath, Metrophanes walked to the opposite side of the room where a cedar chest lay and pried it open. He withdrew from it a necklace of red beads with a twinkling disk of gold as its centerpiece and gave it to Philos. “This was mine, and my father’s before me. It’s yours now.”
Philos slipped the necklace on and ran his finger over its pendant. “This is the symbol of Mycenae, isn’t it?”
Metrophanes smiled. “Only a king may wear it. In all honesty, I am much too old to fight for anything anymore. So I shall leave it to you, my son.”
Philos stammered as he fondled the circle of gold. “Me…fight…to be king…but Father…”
He ran out of the hut, leaving the door swinging back and forth on its hinge.
On the palms of her hands, Itaweret felt the scepter of Mut give off a cozy warmth.
Well done, my priestess. Henceforth begins the true quest.
##
The hill that supported the village of Taurocephalus had a shorter and stouter sibling that spread right next to it to the west. It was to this second hill that Philos retreated, sprinting around the cypresses that stood on its slope, and then perching himself on the lone boulder that lay on the summit. Many evenings had he traveled this route to admire the sunset behind the mountains and the stars and moon that would light the heavens in the sun’s place, listening to the chirp of crickets as another man might listen to the village bard’s songs. And with everyone that had happened within the past hour, he knew nowhere else to go but here.
Philos should have known that, were his father to challenge Scylax and retrieve his former throne, that he himself would have no choice but to inherit it. One could never be king without passing it down to their eldest child. That was how kingship worked in almost every civilization that Philos knew of. In most cases, that would make sense, as a king could teach his heir how to rule the way most parents would teach their trade to their children. Metrophanes should have done the same early in his son’s life, instead of revealing that he had been king long only after Philos’s twenty-fifth summer!
No, all Philos had learned from his father was how to herd sheep. And he couldn’t even prevent one little ewe from running away and getting eaten by a bear. How could he lead a whole army against the strongest in all Greece, never mind govern an entire city of several thousand men and women?
Could he forgive his father? Should he? Old as Metrophanes had grown, he should have done more to prepare Philos for this all than he had. At the very least, he could have agreed to join his son and the two Egyptians on their adventure. Instead, the fat old drunk had chosen to wallow like a bloated pig in his hut while throwing his son before danger, not to mention a responsibility he should have known Philos could not handle.
It was selfish. It was cowardly. It was behavior unworthy of a true king of Mycenae!
Chucking a fallen branch like a spear at the violet sky, Philos roared. He roared with such vulgar, echoing that even Xiphos would cower and whimper were he to hear his master’s voice.
It did no good. The volcanic explosion of anger he had released had only exhausted him and worn his voice hoarse. Falling back onto the rock like it was his bed, Philos broke down into a weeping storm of tears.
“Are you all right, Philos?”
It was Itaweret who had sat down on the rock next to him. Her eyes sparkled brighter than any of the stars that had begun to speckle the sky.
“Sorry for the unmanly display I have put up here,” Philos said. “I don’t cry like this most times.”
Itaweret wiped a tear off his cheek with her finger. “Everyone cries from time to time, even if they don’t show it to anyone else. And I don’t blame you in the least.”
“Thank the gods, you don’t. Blame my father. He’s the one who forced this all onto me. Why won’t he come along with you and I?”
“I know how you feel. But has your father not grown old and out of shape? I don’t see his current self lasting a single night beyond this village. At least, I wouldn’t trust him to lead Bek and I through those woods and mountains like you did.”
In the night, the forests that dressed the mountains on both sides of the valley appeared darker than the sky itself. From somewhere within them, there howled the eerie cry of a distant wolf.
Philos shook his head. “It wasn’t that hard with Xiphos at my side.”
“That’s the thing, though,” Itaweret said. “As long as you have him—and Bek, and myself—at your side, you don’t have nearly as much to worry about as you think.”
“It’s not only the peril that I fear. There’s so much that a king has to do for his people, and there’s so many of them that he has to take care of. He’d be like a father to thousands upon thousands! You expect me to manage all of that even without the smallest bit of experience?”
“You know my brother said he will show you how to run everything. Our father was the Great Chief of our city, and Bek’s studied his whole life to follow in his footsteps.”
“Wait, wait, Bek’s only studied how to rule a city? He’s never done it himself? He must be very helpful, then!”
“Philos, stop making these excuses—”
“Then stop trying to get me to do this all for you!”
Philos scooted himself away from Itaweret to the far end of the rock, looking away from her. It was all her and Bek’s fault that this would happen to him. He should have left them to the bear instead of troubling himself with their plight.
“If that’s how you feel, I guess Bek and I will have to take on Scylax without your help,” Itaweret said. “Because we’re not letting him go unpunished. Not when he has the rest of our people in chains!”
“Look, it’s not like I don’t want things to get better for you and your people. It’s simply that I’m not the one to do it. Find somebody else.”
“You heard the rest of your village. They barely even want Bek and I here. Philos, you’re the only one here I know whom we could trust with our lives. You aren’t like the others. You’re far better than them.”
“Even if that were true in the least, I’m only one man. How could I do everything that’s being asked of me?”
Itaweret ran her fingers along the tip of her scepter. “You won’t be alone. None of us will. Remember, I am a priestess of Mut. As long as she is watching over us, we should have nothing to fear.”
“So all you have is faith, is it? You know how fickle gods and goddesses can be. What if your Mut were to let us down somehow?”
“She won’t, trust me. The gods of Egypt are nothing like what is said of your gods. You can count on them.”
Philos shrugged with an exhausted groan. There seemed no way of talking this woman out of this. He would be dragged into her mission no matter how many counterarguments he presented to her. Maybe it would be less trouble to cave in and join her mission.
Come to think of it, he might even get something out of this after all. Between his loins came the same warm, tense sensation he had felt the moment he had first laid eyes on the Egyptian girl.
“On second thought, I’ll be more than eager to help out,” Philos said. “On one condition. You know how a king always needs his queen, don’t you?”
Itaweret grimaced. “I know what you’re talking about…”
“No, wait—”
The priestess strode away, leaving Philos on the rock by himself. Even as she disappeared in the darkness towards the village, he could not take his eyes off her. If he ever had an opportunity to court the girl, that would have been it. And he had blown it. He would never forgive himself for that.
With a whoosh, a little gust of wind blew down on his scalp. Overhead hovered an owl on flapping wings, gazing down with bright eyes of an unnatural, almost silver shade of gray. Philos thought he had heard stories of owls like that, but he could not place when or where, let alone what those mysterious birds were really supposed to be.
After a single hooting call, the owl had vanished without leaving the slightest trace behind.