king asked, his voice husky with sleep.
"Nothing, wánaks," St'énelo called from the fireside. "Odushéyu and I were arguing, that is all." The It'ákan reached up to pull the other man back to the ground. Behind them, the king lay down again with a grunt of pain, reassuring Ariyádna with a gentle hand on her hair. She huddled closer to her husband with a low moan.
St'énelo sat reluctantly, combing his beard with trembling fingers. "Ai gar, I meant what I said. I do not want to hear any more of these tales."
But Odushéyu was not finished. "Is it possible that Meneláwo plans to avenge himself on your queen when he reaches his homeland? If Agamémnon is plotting against his wife, what about his brother?" The oarsman was clearly troubled. Odushéyu spread his hands and shrugged before he went on. "Your wánasha did sleep with another man, after all. There is no escaping that fact. A man cannot be blamed for killing an adulterous wife."
With a sudden shudder, St'énelo dismissed the thought. "Even if Atréyu and his oldest son are as evil as that, Meneláwo is not. I do not know what he was thinking on that mound by the encampment. No man knows. But if he was thinking to avenge himself on an unfaithful wife, he did not. He could have slit her throat in Tróya that night, after he killed Dapashánda. He could have brought her corpse out and no man would have questioned how she died. But why should he want to do such a thing, anyway? She was not invited to Wilúsiya, after all. She was raped.
"No, Meneláwo is loyal to our wánasha and to Lakedaimón, even to the point of going against Agamémnon, against his own brother. What more could we ask of our king? And he has no more poppy juglets now. If he still eats little, it is only because there is no more. If evil times are ahead, that is the gods' doing, not Meneláwo's."
Odushéyu was not placated. "Ai, but what of your queen herself, wánasha of Lakedaimón and holy 'Elléniya? Do you see her? Her head leans perpetually to one side, and she twists a lock of her hair endlessly, moaning her child's name, whispering about bulls and mysterious lands. Is this a sign from the gods?"
St'énelo shrugged unhappily. "What do I know of such things? I was a charioteer, during the war, and I am a rower now, not a priest. Ask me a question about horses and I will have an answer. Perhaps the goddess who gives true sight is speaking to the wánasha. Diwiyána's seeress at Put'ó talks that way as well." Groaning, he pressed his work-roughened hands to his head.
Odushéyu whispered, "It is possible that her ravings are prophecies, just as you say. Or it may be that she, too, has been caught by the maináds." Despairingly the It'ákan mariner shook his head. "If both your wánaks and wánasha are captives of Díwo's daughters, where can Lakedaimón turn for leadership?"
St'énelo swallowed hard. "To the wánasha's sister, I suppose," he sighed. "Klutaimnéstra holds power over Lakedaimón, the land of her birth, as well as her husband's land of Argo, in the absence of the kings."
Odushéyu threw up his hands in dramatic bewilderment. "But how can she accomplish the salvation of Lakedaimón? As Meneláwo says, she and Agamémnon are at odds."
"Ai, you are as fearful as a sheep," St'énelo snapped, filled with anxiety himself. "And you have no more sense than one, in spite of your rank, Odushéyu. Besides, even if Lakedaimón's legitimate leaders are war-weary, Klutaimnéstra has problems enough of her own. We cannot look to her for anything."
Odushéyu's eyes gleamed. "Exactly! Then perhaps you will admit that all is lost. Unless…"
"Unless what?" St'énelo was suddenly suspicious.
"Unless a certain outsider were to take over Lakedaimón, perhaps an island king with a wife who is also of Lakedaimóniyan birth, a wánaks who had
"Nothing, wánaks," St'énelo called from the fireside. "Odushéyu and I were arguing, that is all." The It'ákan reached up to pull the other man back to the ground. Behind them, the king lay down again with a grunt of pain, reassuring Ariyádna with a gentle hand on her hair. She huddled closer to her husband with a low moan.
St'énelo sat reluctantly, combing his beard with trembling fingers. "Ai gar, I meant what I said. I do not want to hear any more of these tales."
But Odushéyu was not finished. "Is it possible that Meneláwo plans to avenge himself on your queen when he reaches his homeland? If Agamémnon is plotting against his wife, what about his brother?" The oarsman was clearly troubled. Odushéyu spread his hands and shrugged before he went on. "Your wánasha did sleep with another man, after all. There is no escaping that fact. A man cannot be blamed for killing an adulterous wife."
With a sudden shudder, St'énelo dismissed the thought. "Even if Atréyu and his oldest son are as evil as that, Meneláwo is not. I do not know what he was thinking on that mound by the encampment. No man knows. But if he was thinking to avenge himself on an unfaithful wife, he did not. He could have slit her throat in Tróya that night, after he killed Dapashánda. He could have brought her corpse out and no man would have questioned how she died. But why should he want to do such a thing, anyway? She was not invited to Wilúsiya, after all. She was raped.
"No, Meneláwo is loyal to our wánasha and to Lakedaimón, even to the point of going against Agamémnon, against his own brother. What more could we ask of our king? And he has no more poppy juglets now. If he still eats little, it is only because there is no more. If evil times are ahead, that is the gods' doing, not Meneláwo's."
Odushéyu was not placated. "Ai, but what of your queen herself, wánasha of Lakedaimón and holy 'Elléniya? Do you see her? Her head leans perpetually to one side, and she twists a lock of her hair endlessly, moaning her child's name, whispering about bulls and mysterious lands. Is this a sign from the gods?"
St'énelo shrugged unhappily. "What do I know of such things? I was a charioteer, during the war, and I am a rower now, not a priest. Ask me a question about horses and I will have an answer. Perhaps the goddess who gives true sight is speaking to the wánasha. Diwiyána's seeress at Put'ó talks that way as well." Groaning, he pressed his work-roughened hands to his head.
Odushéyu whispered, "It is possible that her ravings are prophecies, just as you say. Or it may be that she, too, has been caught by the maináds." Despairingly the It'ákan mariner shook his head. "If both your wánaks and wánasha are captives of Díwo's daughters, where can Lakedaimón turn for leadership?"
St'énelo swallowed hard. "To the wánasha's sister, I suppose," he sighed. "Klutaimnéstra holds power over Lakedaimón, the land of her birth, as well as her husband's land of Argo, in the absence of the kings."
Odushéyu threw up his hands in dramatic bewilderment. "But how can she accomplish the salvation of Lakedaimón? As Meneláwo says, she and Agamémnon are at odds."
"Ai, you are as fearful as a sheep," St'énelo snapped, filled with anxiety himself. "And you have no more sense than one, in spite of your rank, Odushéyu. Besides, even if Lakedaimón's legitimate leaders are war-weary, Klutaimnéstra has problems enough of her own. We cannot look to her for anything."
Odushéyu's eyes gleamed. "Exactly! Then perhaps you will admit that all is lost. Unless…"
"Unless what?" St'énelo was suddenly suspicious.
"Unless a certain outsider were to take over Lakedaimón, perhaps an island king with a wife who is also of Lakedaimóniyan birth, a wánaks who had
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