Free Fall of Kings by David; Stella Gemmell Page B

six years in
the city. Despite being a foreigner, he had been accepted warmly by his
neighbors and treated with courtesy by his fellow merchants and had come to
regard the Golden City as the home of his heart, if not his blood. He was
considered a lucky man, for his ships always seemed to find a way through the
blockades, bringing silks and spices up from Miletos and even smuggled copper
from Kypros.
    Life was good for Plouteus, and he gave thanks every day at the temple of
Hermes, offering white doves to the winged-heeled god of merchants. Ten times a
season he also made sacrifices to Athene, guardian goddess of Troy, and once a
year he made a donation of ten gold ingots to the temple of Zeus the All-Father.
Plouteus was above all else a man of religion and piety.
    He also was known in his homeland as a man of steadfast loyalty, a reputation
he had been proud of all his life. Until this day.
    Plouteus sat quietly with his guest in a secluded corner of his garden, a
brazier burning close by. The visitor was younger and slimmer than the portly
Plouteus, and where the merchant was ruddy-faced and friendly, the newcomer was
hollow of cheek and cold of eye. A chill breeze blew across the garden. Dancing
embers whirled up from the brazier. The newcomer swore softly. Plouteus saw his
hands brushing at his blue cloak and guessed that a hot ash had settled on the
garment. Plouteus rubbed at his eyes. Bright sunlight made them water and caused
his head to ache.
    “It would be warmer inside,” his guest said.
    “Yes, it would,” Plouteus agreed. “But out here, in the cold, Actonion, no
one will hear us.”
    “You already know what is required,” Actonion said, tugging at his thin black
chin beard. “We need speak no more of it.”
    “You do not understand the nature of the task you are suggesting,” Plouteus
argued.
    Actonion raised his hand, wagging his finger. “I am suggesting nothing, Plouteus. I have brought you instructions from your lord. Your king
desires the death of an enemy. You and your sons will kill this man of evil.”
    “Just like that?” Plouteus snapped, reddening. “My boys are brave enough, but
they are untrained. And I, as you can see, have fully enjoyed the fine foods of
Troy. Why is it that we are asked to do this? Why not men of blood like
yourself? Why not soldiers or assassins?”
    The newcomer’s cold eyes hardened further. “So,” he said, “now you seek to
question our master’s wisdom. You worm! Everything you have here Agamemnon King
has given you. You swore to serve him in any way he desired. Now you balk at the
first danger.”
    “It is not the first,” Plouteus said, defiance in his voice. “My sons and I
have gathered information, sent reports. We have risked our lives many times.
But once we have accomplished this task today—if indeed we can—our usefulness
will be at an end. Can you not see that? When our troops come in the spring,
would it not be valuable to have loyal men inside the city?”
    “Of course. And we will have them,” Actonion replied. “You think you are the
only spies in Troy?” He rose from his seat. “As I have told you, Helikaon is at
the palace and meeting with Priam. When he leaves, he will walk back down
through the lower town. You and your sons will waylay him and strike together.”
    “He has been kind to us,” Plouteus observed sadly.
    “So I am told.” Actonion sneered. “You have dined at his house and made trade
deals with him. He gave your youngest son a pony on the day of his manhood. That is why you have been chosen for this task. We have tried sending
soldiers. We have tried sending assassins. Always he has eluded death. He is
cunning and crafty, and he has strength and speed. But few men seek to protect
themselves from their friends.”
    Actonion drew his cloak around him and stepped away from the brazier.
Glancing back, he said, “Once it is done, get down to the beach as fast as you
can. Take any