The Hittite - Ben Bova [47]
Apet pulled down the hood of her robe as she walked beside me to the table. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I had not eaten since the morning, in Troy.
“You are Helen’s servant, the Egyptian,” Menalaos said truculently. “I remember you from Sparta.”
Apet bowed stiffly and said “Aye, my lord” in a low whispering tone.
“You went with Helen when Paris spirited her away.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Why shouldn’t I have you nailed to a tree and burned alive?” he spat.
“Mighty king,” she said, with just a trace of mockery in her voice, “I have been Queen Helen’s faithful slave since she was a babe in arms. Her father brought me from distant Egypt to be her nurse and attendant. It was his command that I never leave her side.”
Menalaos snorted with disdain. “Your loyalty should have been to me. I am her husband.”
Apet bowed her head slightly, but said nothing.
Menalaos fidgeted in his chair and glanced uncomfortably at Odysseos, who focused his eyes on Apet.
At last Menalaos burst out, “Well, Egyptian, what message do you bring from my wife?”
Apet’s coal-black eyes never left his. “My mistress commands me to tell you that she will willingly return to Sparta with you only after you have conquered Troy. She will not accompany you as the consolation prize for losing the war.”
Menalaos jumped to his feet. “Consolation prize?” he roared.
“So says my mistress, your wife.”
He snatched his dagger from the table. “I’ll cut out your insolent tongue!”
Odysseos stood up and reached for his arm. I stepped in front of Apet.
“My lord king,” I said, “I have been charged by your wife to protect this slave and return her safely to Troy.” I rested my hand lightly on the hilt of my sword.
Odysseos made a smile and said, “Come, come, Menalaos. It does you no honor to kill a slave. A woman, at that.”
Menalaos contained his fury, just barely. Through gritted teeth he said to Apet, “Return to your mistress and tell her that I will pluck her from the funeral pyre that was once Troy. Then she will learn the fate that befalls a faithless woman.”
Apet nodded once, pulled up the hood of her robe, and turned to leave the cabin. I walked beside her, my hand still on my sword hilt.
When we reached Odysseos’ camp it was fully dark. The moon’s waxing crescent threw cool silver light across the beach, the boats and the tents that dotted the sand. Several of my men were sitting in front of the tents they had put up for themselves. Magro scrambled to his feet as I approached with Apet beside me.
“The others are wrapped in their blankets, snoring,” Magro told me.
“Poletes?” I asked.
“He’s snoring with the rest of them.”
I nodded as I glanced at the dying embers of our campfire. “Get some sleep yourself. Tomorrow will be a hard day.”
“And you?” he asked.
I forced a smile. “I’m hoping you oafs left some supper for me to eat.”
“I will bring you food, Hittite,” said Apet, surprising me. Without another word she moved off to where the women were lying in their meager blankets on the sandy ground.
I watched her bend over and rouse them, then turned back to Magro. “Get to sleep.”
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Enjoy your supper.”
I sat on the sand and gazed up at the bright shining stars. By this time tomorrow I might be dead, I thought, but the stars will still be there, fixed in their places by the gods themselves.
Apet returned with two of the slave women trudging along behind her, one bearing an iron pot, the other an armload of firewood. Within a few minutes they had the fire blazing beneath the pot. I smelled a stew of meat and onions and spices that were strange to me.
I began to think about my wife and sons again, in Agamemnon’s camp. Could I steal them away this night? Take them and my men with me out of this camp, away from this death trap? Would Aniti come with me? I realized that I couldn’t leave her here, in the degradation she had sunk to. Despite everything, I had to bring her, too. Could I get them past the sentries at the