Heir of Troy: The Third Son

The fire in Agamemnon's tent had burned down to embers. Achilles had not touched the wine. He sat with his legs stretched out before him, still in the armour he had worn off the ship, his spear propped against the chair beside him—always within reach. He had been in the tent for perhaps ten minutes, and in that time he had not once looked at Agamemnon directly. He looked at the tent walls. The maps. The brazier. Anything except the High King.

Agamemnon had noticed. He noticed everything.

"You were delayed."

"I was delayed because I wanted to be." Achilles examined his fingernails. "The wind was against us. We could have pushed through. I wanted to see how long you'd wait."

"And."

"Three days. I had you at two."

Agamemnon poured himself wine. He did not offer the cup. "You've arrived. The fleet sails soon."

"Hector."

"Hector is in Troy."

"I know where he is. I want him. I didn't sail across the Aegean to burn fishing villages and starve peasants behind walls. I came for Hector. The rest of the war—" He waved his hand. "Yours. I don't care about the rest of it."

"And if I need you elsewhere."

"Then I'll go elsewhere. I'll kill whoever you put in front of me. But the moment Hector shows himself—the moment he comes out from behind his walls—he's mine. Not Ajax's. Not Diomedes's. Mine."

"You're very confident."

"I'm very good." Achilles finally looked at him. His eyes were pale, winter-bright. "You've never seen me fight. You've heard stories. Stories are stories. When the time comes, you'll see. So will Hector."

Agamemnon drank. "I've heard about the broken sword. The one you sent him."

"A gift."

"Did he respond."

"He didn't need to. He knows what it means." Achilles stood, retrieving his spear in a single fluid motion. "Soon. I'll be ready."

He walked out without waiting to be dismissed. Agamemnon sat alone, the wine untasted, and stared at the embers until a servant crept in to rebuild the fire.

The council met at midday. The kings took their seats—Odysseus, Ajax, Diomedes, Idomeneus, Nestor—but Menelaus was the first to speak, which was unusual. He had been silent through most of the councils, letting his brother do the talking.

"The Sea Peoples," he said.

Agamemnon looked at him. "What about them."

"You said you had a plan. Days ago. You said you'd tell us when the time was right." Menelaus's voice was taut. "The time is right. We're sailing soon. Tell us the plan."

Agamemnon set down his cup. "Troy has been fighting the Sea Peoples for two years. Raids. Ambushes. Fire ships. The refugees who fled to Troy? Most of them were running from the Sea Peoples. The Trojans took them in, armed them, trained them. Every time the Sea Peoples have tried to hit the Anatolian coast, Troy has been there with something new. Fire. Nets. Ships they didn't expect."

"And you want to use that," Odysseus said. Not a question.

"I want to use them. The Sea Peoples have been raiding our coasts too. Idomeneus can speak to that."

Idomeneus's face was hard. "Four ships. Off Crete. They came out of a fog bank at dawn. Killed the crews. Took the cargo. I lost sixty men."

"They're not an army. They're not a kingdom. They're survivors—they go where the food is, burn what they can't carry, move on. They have no reason to love Troy. And they have every reason to want revenge." Agamemnon leaned forward. "I want to send them an offer. Join us against Troy. Attack from the sea while we attack from the land. Everything they take—gold, grain, slaves—is theirs. We don't want the plunder. We want the city."

"And after Troy falls." Odysseus again. "What happens to them."

"I don't care what happens to them."

Nestor struck his staff against the ground. "You should care. You're inviting wolves to the feast. Wolves don't leave when the meal is over. They look for the next one."

"Then we deal with them after. We have fifty thousand men. They have maybe ten thousand. We'll outnumber them five to one."

"If they fight us," Diomedes said. "If they do what we ask and then leave. If they don't decide that our ships are easier prey than Troy's walls. If they don't turn on us the moment the city falls." His voice was cold. "That's a great many ifs."

"It's a gamble," Agamemnon said. "Every war is a gamble. But this one pays off quickly. We hit Troy from two sides, they break, the war is over by autumn. No siege. No blockade. No months of sitting on a beach while our coalition falls apart and the men get restless. We win fast, and we go home."

Silence. Ajax was the one who finally spoke, which surprised everyone. The giant rarely spoke in councils.

"I don't like it."

"I didn't ask you to like it."

"I don't like fighting alongside men who killed my people. I don't like trusting savages who don't speak our language and don't share our gods. I don't like any of it." He paused. "But I like the idea of a long siege even less. If this ends the war faster—" He shrugged, his massive shoulders rising and falling. "I'll fight."

Agamemnon looked at the others. Odysseus nodded once, reluctantly. Diomedes said nothing, which was as close to agreement as he would come. Idomeneus stared at the table, his scarred face unreadable. Nestor shook his head slowly but did not object.

"I'll need an envoy," Agamemnon said. "Someone who knows their routes. Someone who can find their chieftains. Someone they might actually listen to."

He gestured to the guard at the tent flap. "Bring him in."

The man who entered was not a soldier. He was lean and weathered, his skin burned dark by years of sun and salt, his hands scarred from rope and oar. He wore the rough tunic of a merchant, and he stood before the assembled kings with the guarded stillness of someone who had learned to survive in dangerous places.

"His name is Theron," Agamemnon said. "He's been running cargo through the eastern islands for fifteen years. He knows the routes. He knows the chieftains. He's dealt with the Sea Peoples before and survived."

Theron nodded to the kings but said nothing.

"There's a man named Teresh," Agamemnon continued. "One of their chieftains. He's been gathering the tribes for months. If anyone can speak for them, it's him. You know how to find him?"

"I know the island where he winters," Theron said. His voice was rough, unhurried. "Three days' sail east of the Lycian coast. I've traded with his people before. They know me. They might let me speak before they kill me."

"And if you speak, what do you say."

Theron was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I tell him Troy has been killing his people for two years. Fire ships. Ambushes. Nets across the strait. I tell him the Greeks are going to destroy Troy, and if he helps, he can have whatever he can carry. Gold. Grain. Slaves. Revenge." He paused. "Teresh is not a fool. He'll want to know why he should trust you."

"What will convince him."

"The truth. That you need him as much as he needs you. That this is not charity—it's an exchange. He gets his revenge and his plunder. You get your war ended quickly. Both sides benefit."

"And if he refuses."

Theron met Agamemnon's eyes. "Then he kills me, and you know not to expect help from the Sea Peoples. Either way, you have your answer."

Agamemnon nodded. "You leave tonight. Fast ship. Small crew. No one knows your mission except the men in this tent. The message is what you said. Revenge. Plunder. A chance to burn the city that's been killing his people. All he has to do is fight."

Theron inclined his head. He did not say yes, my king or it shall be done. He simply turned and walked out of the tent, and the kings watched him go.

"That's it," Diomedes said after a long silence. "One man. One ship. If he fails—"

"If he fails, we fight without the Sea Peoples. We have the numbers. We have Achilles. We can still win." Agamemnon stood. "But if he succeeds, the war is over quickly. I'll take that gamble."

That night, Theron stood on the beach, watching the last light fade over the bay. The ship that would carry him east was a small galley, stripped of anything that might slow it down. The crew were men he had sailed with before—men who knew the eastern waters, who could navigate by stars and currents, who had survived storms and pirates and worse.

"You're really going," a voice said behind him.

Theron turned. Odysseus stood a few feet away, his cloak wrapped tight against the wind. The king of Ithaca looked at the ship, then at Theron, and his expression was unreadable.

"Someone has to."

"They might kill you before you open your mouth."

"They might. But I've dealt with Teresh before. Years ago, off the Lycian coast. He bought copper from me. Paid fairly. Didn't cheat. Didn't threaten." Theron shrugged. "He's a raider, but he's not insane. He knows an opportunity when he sees one."

"And if he's changed. If the years of raiding have made him harder. If he decides you're worth more as a corpse than a messenger."

"Then I won't come back." Theron looked at Odysseus. "You didn't come down here to wish me luck."

"No. I came down here to ask you something." Odysseus paused. "Agamemnon said this war is about power. About the strait. About trade routes. He said Helen was just the excuse. Do you believe that."

Theron considered the question. "I'm a merchant. I've been sailing these waters for fifteen years. I've watched Agamemnon tighten his grip on every port, every island, every trade route in the Peloponnese. I've watched him squeeze the minor kings until they had no choice but to follow him. I've watched him build this fleet while telling everyone it was about honour." He paused. "Helen of Sparta is a reason. She's not the reason. The strait has always been the prize. The war was coming whether she left her husband or not."

Odysseus nodded slowly. "That's what I thought."

He turned and walked back toward the camp. Theron watched him go, then climbed aboard the galley. The crew cast off the lines, and the ship slipped out of the bay, its oars cutting the dark water in silence. The lights of the Greek camp faded behind them, and the sea opened before them, vast and empty and full of possibility.

Somewhere in the east, a chieftain named Teresh was waiting. And the message Theron carried would change everything.