Gears of Troy 2 Read online

  “I don’t think I’ll have any issues in that department.” I returned the wink and leaned in for a kiss, the first we had shared since that morning.

  Our work kept us busy on most days, and it was rare that we could meet and catch up before evening. We both decided to oversee different aspects of construction with the idea that it would speed up progress. Among other things, I was also tasked with training the warriors to fight both on land and at sea. The techniques I knew proved to be a powerful force in this ancient world, rivaling those of the greatest champions of the time. With my own personal blend of military combat training and Mixed Martial Arts, I was able to teach my citizens to defend themselves against the most brutal of adversaries.

  Linus joined us just as the ship was about to dock. A messenger hurried out to us.

  “Greetings, your Graces,” he said, bowing. “I bear a message from King Priam and Queen Hecuba.”

  “Hello,” I said, stopping myself from bowing in response. I had to stop from bowing. In my ancient style clothing, it made me look like a Vegas parking valet fishing for tips.

  “Greetings,” said Helen simply, fighting a smirk. She really was becoming more human.

  Linos simply nodded without a word.

  “What is the message?” I asked. “There’s no threat of Greeks, right?”

  “No, no, sir—not at all. I have come to inform you that an envoy from Hattusa is on his way to Troy. They wish to present an official case for an alliance between Troy and their nation in light of Troy’s recent victory over Greece. It is expected that the diplomat will bring gifts, as is customary for such negotiates.”

  The thought of gifts entering the city gates reminded me of a little story about a certain wooden horse, but I banished the thought, knowing that was a gift from the Greeks said to have been given during the war which had already ended. Hattusa did not ring any bells, but as far as I knew, it had nothing to do with Greece.

  “The nation of Hattusa? Where is that located?” I asked.

  Helen knocked her knee against mine Apparently, Hattusa was a place I should have known about, although in my defense, I sat behind a hot redhead in history class, and she was far more interesting than empires where men wore sandals.

  “Hattusa, your Grace? Of the Hittite Empire?” The messenger looked from Helen to me and back again, clearly confused.

  “Ah, right,” I said. “Hattusa. Hittites. It just took me a minute to remember.”

  I had at least heard of the Hittites before, but I could not remember anything specific aside from a vague idea that they were aggressive, wore something like a skirt, loved chariots and had a tendency to raise hell with their neighbors. Oh, and lions, too. They were enthusiasts when it came to using lions as symbols, and gates and walls. “Got it.”

  “Yes, your Grace.” He bowed again, lower this time, before continuing. “The ambassador is coming from their great city to the east. The King and Queen thought it would be best to include you in their political discussions. We received little notice ahead of their arrival, so it is not likely we will make it back in time for you to meet the visitors, which is a pity. That said, your presence is still requested at your earliest convenience.” He bowed once more.

  “Sure, we’ll head out before the day’s over.”

  “This is wonderful news, your Grace. Shall you accompany us back, or will you be taking your own ship?”

  “We’ll take our own.”

  “Very well.”

  We provided the messenger and his small crew with food and drink before they departed with the promise that we would soon follow behind.

  I asked Helen to fill me in on everything she knew about the Hittite Empire. She told me that they were a powerful nation whose center of control was to the east, but their reach extended all the way to the coast through a stretch of land south of Troy. They offered many valuable trade goods to Troy, among other nations. Most importantly, they were not receptive to the domineering behavior of Greece, perhaps seeing a reflection of their own empire that they did not like to acknowledge.

  “An enemy of my enemy is my friend,” I muttered, and Helen’s face lit up.

  “Yes! You understand this perfectly,” she enthused, then balled her hands into fists. “I would like to join hands with anyone who feels like I do about those whoresons. I would kick them in the fruits. I would”—

  “Honey?”

  “Yes?” she broke off, looking slightly abashed.

  “Let’s save some for the people who deserve your ire. Also, it’s kind of hot when you’re angry,” I said, smiling and pulling her to me.

  “Troy, I must confess something to you,” she said, eyes downcast.

  “What?” I readied myself for the bad news.

  When she looked up, she was smirking. “When you are, as you say, kicking ass and taking names, it makes me rather tingly. Down there,” she said, putting my hand on her thigh and grinning wickedly.

  “I—well, then,” I said, clearing my throat. “Note to self: kick more ass. Take more names.”

  “Oh, I hope so,” she said, then flicked her tongue across my ear before laughing again. She was so far from the being I’d first met as to be another person entirely, and it was perfect.

  “Why would the Hittites enter an alliance?” I asked her, pulling us back to the strategy session. Our bed could wait. For now.

  The two of us thought that maybe their dislike of the Greeks was behind their reasons for forming the alliance, and maybe they wanted to put Greece on the defensive, taking the fight to the enemy’s homeland while it was focused elsewhere. I didn’t know how I felt about that. I liked the idea of bringing the enemy to its knees, but Troy still needed to recover, and sending the few capable troops we had left would only invite attack from other sources. It was all only conjecture, and we would just have to wait until we got to the city to see what the alliance was actually about.

  Helen was excited to return to her beloved city. It had been half a year since either of us had laid eyes on the place. I myself had fallen in love with it and its people at first sight. The affection Helen held for it was something higher, a kind of love for which no word could provide an accurate description.

  She had proven that she would be willing to die for the city and its people several times over, fighting on the field in the middle of all-out war. Originally, Helen was to be a prize, given away to the winner, but Priam had not actually planned on going through with the plan. Helen didn’t know that, and had been willing to sacrifice everything to save the kingdom.

  The three of us—Helen, Linos, and I—decided to return together. For good measure, Linos picked three of his most skilled warriors to accompany us. I had grown to trust the man’s judgement nearly as much as I trusted his predecessor’s.

  Artession was a giant, and it was doubtful anyone could quite fill his shoes, but that did not stop Linos from doing it to the best of his ability. He led his tribe well enough. He was closer to my height, with long black hair and about as much distaste for clothing as any of his brethren. His body was scarred and calloused, revealing to all his title of warrior. He wore his stripes with justified pride, even deriving his name from the vicious roars he let loose in battle. Many Thirians were lean, clearly fitted for their active lifestyles, but Linos was more, displaying an impressive array of muscles that bragged of his determination to outshine those around him.

  Most of the tribesmen fought with primitive spears, and several did battle with swords, but Linos, true to his nature, preferred the weight of a massive spiked club which made him look like a miniature Cyclops. A sword was sheathed at his side, but it was only for backup on the off chance his primary weapon ended up out of reach. The decision to elect him to fill the role of leader was unanimous and expected. It was said that on several occasions, Artession displayed a strong fondness for the young man. I was more than happy to know he had my back in times of trouble.

  The sun was still high when the six of us headed out, making our
way for the port of Ilium. Above us, seabirds wheeled, and a porpoise played at our stern, joy incarnate in waters that looked like a postcard come to life.

  2

  When I first traveled to the city, Helen and I docked at the port of Dardanelles. That was necessary at the time because we risked increasing odds of encountering enemy ships as we sailed further in to the capital. But it was no longer a concern since the war had ended, so we were able to chart a course straight for the city’s main port. We expected to arrive with relative ease, being hailed upon landing by a small parade of happy citizens. This was not what happened.

  The Moonshadow was challenged by two Trojan ships when it came within sight of the port, and the six of us were stopped by guards when we were finally able to dock. Helen was clearly miffed by the treatment, incredulous that the people did not recognize our boat even from a distance. It was true that my ship was unique, but I did not take the guards’ actions personally. They were only doing their jobs, trying to keep the city safe. Something was obviously wrong, and I needed to find out what.

  The men were not especially helpful when we made land, only saying that the city was in chaos because the King suddenly fell ill. Apparently, Hecuba was stricken with grief and unable to adequately perform her duties. There were rumors going around, as was a daily occurrence within the protective walls, that the King’s sickness had something to do with the Hittite ambassador’s visit. I was told that the diplomat left shortly after dinner on the very day of his arrival, which was unusual for the occasion, especially since he did not at least wait until morning. This fueled everyone’s suspicions, including my own.

  “I don’t like coincidence,” I said, my voice low.

  Linos nodded, and Helen took my hand as we began stepping briskly up the ramp from the docks.

  “There are no coincidences. Only plots and results,” Helen said with disgust. I agreed.

  Some of the men from the docks joined us on our walk to the city. The gates were closed, which was something I had not seen in the middle of the day since the war. They were usually wide open during the day in times of peace, allowing anyone who wished to come and go as they pleased. Had the other guards not been present with us, it might have been more of a chore shouting up to the gatekeepers to get them to let us in. I had hoped our fame would carry weight, but everyone we met so far regarded us with suspicion until they were sure of who we were.

  By the time we got to the gate, I was annoyed by the experience. I was a war hero to these people. They knew me, and if they did not know me, they certainly knew Helen. They trusted and loved her. She proved time and again that she had nothing but the city’s best interests at heart.

  Our entourage left us at the palace doors, in the care of the royal guards who herded us the rest of the way inside. The Queen was hunched in a seat by the fountain in the center of the main room, her face stained with tears. I had never seen the woman lose her cool like that before. There was a time or two where she let a bit of a temper loose under all the pressure of the Greek invasion, but those fits were only momentary and never betrayed a lack of resolve. Here she seemed broken, beaten. For the first time in my life, I pitied the proud woman. I would have gone to great lengths to stop those tears.

  Helen rushed to her, taking a seat at the Queen’s side and gently placing a hand on her shoulder. Hecuba had not directly looked at us since we entered the palace, and she made little effort to acknowledge us now, even after the guards made the customary introductions and took their leave.

  Helen looked to me expectantly. Apparently, it was my duty to make the next move, which was unfortunate for me. I always tried to be attentive when it was needed, but women’s tears were not something I had ever grown accustomed to. I doubted that I would ever be aptly equipped to handle these situations. Nonetheless, I usually tried. I would have taken a seat as well, but there was no space left on the bench, so instead I took a small step forward, hesitant to come within arm’s reach and tower over the Queen.

  “Your Highness,” I said, trying to maintain a calm level tone. “We just heard what happened but haven’t been given many details yet…. I… how is the King?”

  A loud sob broke free. Clearly, she had been holding back the flood for this visit, but any direct reference to the situation made it all the more difficult to mask. I went to her side and kneeled down, placing my hand on the shoulder opposite to Helen.

  “Hey, it’s all right,” I said. “Take all the time you need. We’re here for you.”

  I took a moment, as I often did when encountering the Queen, to appreciate the grace with which she aged. It always amazed me how she had retained many aspects of her youthful beauty well into her adult life. Even during hard times like this, she shined like a star.

  Linos and his men stood further away, halfway between the entrance and the fountain where the three of us were. They had never been inside the palace before and were surely overwhelmed with its size and the artwork spanning the full length of every wall there in the main hall. None of them knew quite how to act in the presence of royalty, so I took the lead and waved them over, motioning that they should kneel.

  They knelt, and the queen never looked up, but the act of doing so settled their nerves.

  “Linos, perimeter. Track and scour this place for anything—I want your noses on the ground like fucking hounds, and if you see anything, straight to me,” I said softly, having stepped away from the queen.

  “It is done,” Linos said, his eyes instantly turning suspicious as he broke away, searching. I gave the order for two reasons. The first was because Linos was a hound, and might find something. The second was that seeing the queen in grief was a shock for him and his men.

  Death and tragedy were commonplace in the wilds of their homeland. The only mourning that they were accustomed to were the ritualistic consumption of the fallen.. They knew the ways of the Trojans were much different than their own, and that when someone died in the Trojan culture, though they were thought to be elsewhere in some dark supernatural realm, the people of Troy considered those people to be lost for all time in a bleak world that was not so different from nonexistence.

  The Queen placed a hand on my knee, an action I would have taken to be unusually forward were the situation different. She had done something similar during our first meeting; the atmosphere was very different then. Then, it was a happy time, a wholesome wine-filled dinner to celebrate Helen’s reunion with the kingdom, a calm moment before the storm brought about by the Greek siege. Now it was an action that begged for comfort, coming from a woman contemplating the grim reality that her husband might be on his deathbed. She was strong, but the mocking hint of the reaper lurking in the shadows was beyond her ability to bear alone. She needed support, and I was determined to provide all that I could.

  Hecuba slowly raised her other hand to her cheek, still using the one on my knee for emotional—as well as physical—support as she as she swayed a little with the motion and wiped away a fresh tear. Through a great effort, she finally said, “I have been with my husband for decades.” She paused, and I rubbed her shoulder. “His love is the only I have known—true love, not that silly notion children have of the word. We have been with each other through the worst of times. And though”—she wiped away another tear before continuing—“he has been with other women, I know in his heart that he stayed true to me. In all these years, he has demonstrated that truth to me. It is expected of a man in his position to spread his seed—so that the line may survive if something were to happen to the true heirs to the throne. I understood that and knew that it would happen when he was crowned. He always spoke of it as a practical matter, but it was nothing more than just fun for him. And I was content to allow him that fun even if I was not overjoyed with the idea.” Hecuba wiped another tear and rolled her eyes. “Though it was not the fairytale I imagined growing up—him spending intimate time with other women—I knew, I always knew, that I was his only Queen. And that was fine, all things consid
ered.”

  She looked me in the eyes for the first time since we arrived and said nothing for half a minute or so. I was not exactly sure what she was getting at but thought it best to allow her to speak uninterrupted, if only for the purpose of helping her get it all out. She turned her head, only glancing at the warriors pacing in the distance as she rested her gaze on Helen. The Queen put her hand under the young woman’s chin, propping her head up a little as if examining her and then running her thumb along Helen’s face, from the side of her nose almost back to her ear.

  Hecuba turned back to me and continued, “Beautiful women are rare, but not among royalty. I was beautiful. Now, I am older, and all I have is the love of for my husband and my people, and the land we inhabit. Even that is a—a target, for those would take it. You know this to be true, Helen, because your beauty will be spoken of forever.”

  Helen’s eyes went a little wide, a look I had seen a handful of times in our time together. She was trying and failing to mask her surprise at the spotlight suddenly beaming down on her. Likely as a way to simply appease Her Highness and turn the focus off of herself, Helen permitted a small half-nod that clearly showed she was hesitant to agree with what the woman was saying.

  Hecuba laughed again. “You know what I mean, dear. I know you know. But it is not good form to acknowledge such things, even if an entire war was fought in the name of the truth you refuse to see.” She waved hand at the young woman as if playfully swatting her away and turned back to me. “Men would have killed for me, I am sure. Just as you will kill for Helen. But know this, Troy- treacherous men will try to steal everything you have until the moment you take your last breath, and behind each of those men is a woman, urging them on.”