Rapanu frowned and withdrew into himself.
The tavern keeper threw a still-hot flatbread on the table, then set down three pots of lentil soup, a bowl of olives, and three cups of wine.
They didn't ask what you wanted here. They gave you food—eat it. The harbor folk weren't picky.
"Mmm!" Timothy looked up at the ceiling with a blissful expression.
He dipped a piece of flatbread in wine and put it in his mouth, then gulped down some hot stew with thin threads of meat floating in it.
Goat meat, no doubt—only that indestructible livestock could still find food, climbing around the rocks and gnawing on tough branches.
Father and I had worn ourselves out grazing our horses—the grass was already burning up in early spring.
Rapanu was also eating with a concentrated look, but his thoughts were very far from here.
I stuffed a crust soaked in watered wine into my mouth, tossed in a couple of olives, grabbed the pot with both hands and greedily gulped down the aromatic thick liquid.
So tasty!
The tavern keeper hadn't skimped on salt, herbs, and garlic. And he'd even thrown in a pinch of flour.
In our parts there was plenty of salt—they brought it by sea from the northern mountains that stretched beyond the Danube.
I drained the pot in a few gulps, then carefully wiped it inside with a piece of flatbread, which I sent into my mouth after all the rest of the food.
Good!
My whole life was divided into two halves: when I was full and when I was hungry.
I wasn't as full as I was now every day. Even me, a close relative of the king, had been touched by all these misfortunes.
There was really less and less grain. In some places fields just stood empty, forgetting to give back to people even what they'd thrown into the earth.
And I definitely didn't eat meat every week, only if I managed to shoot a deer or take down a boar with a spear.
But things were still tolerable with us.
In the east and south though, the tavern keeper wasn't lying, things were really bad. If it weren't for help from Egypt, only wolves would be living in the cities of Lukka and Tarhuntassa.
His Majesty the Pharaoh had helped his children by sending ships with grain. I'd heard that in the harbor today.
I was crazy curious, so I walked around with my ears wide open. In our backwater there was boredom and silence, and so little news that when a calf was born, they'd discuss it for a whole month.
"In Attica we've got bad harvests too," Timothy suddenly said with a dull longing in his voice.
He'd already eaten and pushed aside his pot, licked clean to a shine.
"That's why they kicked me out of the house. There's nothing for us to eat. Can't feed everyone from one plot. When father gets old, our land goes to my brother. So I turned out to be extra. And then my younger brothers will go to sea too. Lots of us leave home like that."
"Yeah, we know how you Achaeans leave home," Rapanu said unexpectedly angrily.
"You just burned Byblos recently. And that used to be a city of the king of Ugarit. My relatives lived there. Some were killed, others taken into slavery. And they totally devastated the country of Amurru. Even killed its kings!"
"I'm not an Achaean," Timothy said with dignity.
"I'm from the Athenian Pelasgians. When the Achaeans pushed down from the north, we defended our land in battle. It's been ours forever. And we beat the Heraclid kings with their Dorians too, when they come."
"Yeah! Strange things have started happening," Rapanu said sadly.
"Trade's really bad. They still bring wool and fabrics to us, but there's almost no tin. Hey, Aeneas, how's it with tin here?"
"There's little of it and it's really expensive," I answered and shuddered, like I'd been struck by lightning.
It was like I was listening to this conversation from the outside.
I wasn't Aeneas, I was Andrew. Or more precisely, Andrew Pearce!
Associate professor in the Department of Ancient History and...
Actually, screw that right now.
This felt so good! No shortness of breath at all, and my heart didn't hurt!
I'd forgotten when that had last been the case.
By the way, why didn't it hurt? It had just been hurting really bad when I...
And why was I suddenly Aeneas?
I'm Aeneas???
How did I get into this mess?
But the conversation flowed on, conducted in an unfamiliar language that was nevertheless native to me.
Here in the Troad they spoke a Luwian dialect with a heavy mix of words from the neighboring Hatti language.
The talk was mostly about water, which had become really scarce in Ugarit and the coastal cities of Syria, about harvests, and about attacks by wild tribes that had crawled out of every crack.
"We send tribute of five hundred shekels of gold to the great Hittite king Suppiluliuma," Rapanu counted on his fingers, "dyed wool and fabrics. And we have to give gifts too! Gold cups for the king himself! Cups for Tawananna, the chief queen, too! Earrings and bracelets for the other queens, and you can't skip his nobles either! And when they burned Byblos, nobody helped us with troops. People just came on ten ships from nowhere and robbed everything."
"Well, Ugarit's a strong city, you'll fight them off," I reassured him, listening with surprise to how my own voice sounded.
I was still just a kid. About sixteen, no more.
"Our gods are really angry," Rapanu shivered.
"A couple years ago the earth shook so hard that walls fell in places and towers crumbled to bricks. Lots of people were crushed. My family went out to sea with the nobles. We always wait out earthquakes on ships. At sea you don't feel anything. The god Yammu protects us."
"But not everyone has ships," Timothy looked at him mockingly.
"Yeah, not everyone," Rapanu looked at him defiantly.
"Baal-Hadad himself decides who gets a ship and who doesn't. And who lives and dies, he decides that too. Our sacrifices were great, and that's why he's merciful to us. My father gave his firstborn as a sacrifice according to custom. Ever since they strangled my brother on the altar, he hasn't lost a single ship in storms. And we've fought off Achaean pirates so many times. The great god granted him success in business."
"Haven't you rebuilt the walls yet?" I asked him.
"No," Rapanu winced.
"They're standing with such huge gaps you could drive a chariot through. There's not enough grain in the treasury. Nothing to pay workers with. Our king Ammurapi keeps meaning to, but never gets around to it. Harvests have gotten really bad."
"Where are you headed after this?" I asked Timothy.
"I'm with uncle Helon," he waved his hand somewhere toward where a group of Danaan mercenaries was bustling around.
"He contracted to escort a caravan to Hattusa, and then we'll head north. He's got goods, wants to break through the Amber Route come spring. We'll take bronze, glass from Tyre and gold jewelry there, and from there—tin, amber, leather and salted cheese. There's tons of that stuff there, and it's really cheap. Just really far. The trip there and back is more than half a year!"