Free People of the Inner Sea (The Age of Bronze) by Diana Gainer Page B

that the old emperor Qáttushli has died.  His heir is said to be a certain prince Tudqáliya, a weakling ruled by his mother.  It is no wonder the Náshiyans could not keep you from victory at Tróya with such a worthless leader.  Idé, I am not at all surprised to hear that I predicted events correctly.  My family has interpreted the flight of birds without error for a hundred years.  You know it was I who sent the peerless Qálki to act as the army's seer."  She paused, studying the visitors' faces.  "No doubt he served you well in Assúwa.  How is Qálki, by the way?  Is he with Agamémnon?  And tell me, what word do you have of my husband?  Is he close behind you?"
     
    On the opposite side of the hearth from the travelers, the royal children perked up at the queen's last questions.  The youngest, a boy of eleven, stood up in his eagerness, his mouth wide open.  Like 'Ermiyóna, he had had his head shaved but for a shoulder-length lock at the back of his head and another, shorter one at his forehead.  The boy was also richly clothed in an embroidered kilt and new sandals.  His sisters behind him wore long, flounced skirts brushed with oil to make the varied colors shine.  The oldest girl pulled the boy back to his seat abruptly with a rosette-adorned hand.  Her long hair, like her mother's, was reddened with henna, and it fell loosely to her waist.  "Sit down," she murmured.
     
    The younger girl whispered a warning.  "Do not say anything about Pappa.  Mamma will be angry with you," she said with a shake of her head, rattling the beads entwined in her newly growing locks.
     
    The boy pulled his arm free of the older child's grasp and he frowned, his lower lip jutting out.  But he sat dutifully, wrapping himself tightly in the woolen cloak that he had earlier dropped into his chair, and said nothing.  Unable to suppress his feelings completely, he kicked his feet with impatience.
     
    Meneláwo's arms fell and he leaned back in his chair with a grunt.  "My brother is behind us, but I do not know how far.  We took the shorter route across the Inner Sea.  I do not know whether Agamémnon chose this same path or whether he kept to the coast.  As for Qálki, he died on the battlefield in Wilúsiya, along with so many others."
     
    "What?  Dead?"  Klutaimnéstra's face reddened with suppressed fury.  "Who killed my seer?" she demanded.
     
    "No one knows," Meneláwo sighed.  Both visiting wánaktes bent their necks, hiding their eyes from the queen.
     
    She did not speak, but turned her flashing eyes toward Aígist'o.  He nodded, meeting her gaze with a knowing look, and silently mouthed the name of the absent Argive king, "Agamémnon."
     
    At the same time, the little boy beside the hearth slouched in his chair, disappointed by the vague answer.  He pulled the long topknot at the back of his head to his mouth and chewed the end.
     
    While the wánasha and her guests conversed, the serving-women had been busy.  They mixed wine and water in large bowls and brought wine cups to all the high-born folk about the fire.  The rich scent of meat cooking wafted through the chamber from caldrons set over the central hearth on three-legged stands.  Baskets of freshly baked bread and of dried figs passed before the visitors in the servants' hands.
     
    The talk died down as the group began to eat, Klutaimnéstra's dark eyes taking in every detail of her guests' appearance and behavior.  "Ariyádna, I would have invited you to bathe before dining," she said to her sister, frowning at the travelers' unkempt state.  "But the drought has affected our life even in the palace.  We cannot draw enough water from the springs to fill a single bathtub.  Even I cannot bathe until it rains again."
     
    Ariyádna nodded without understanding.  She ate sparingly, gazing only on her daughter's face.  The child looked to her mother time and again, gingerly touching the dark scratches and bruises on the woman's