"Alright, guys," I stood up and looked at them carefully.
"I owe you the debt of hospitality for this food. I'm Aeneas, son of Anchises from Dardanus, nephew of the king. Anyone in our town can show you where we live. You, Timothy, can come when you get back from Hattusa. We've got work for guards sometimes too. And you, Rapanu, here's what I'll tell you: run from your Ugarit as fast as you can."
"What are you even saying?" Rapanu looked up at me indignantly.
"I'm the son of a tamkaru, a royal merchant! We buy goods for the palace! And what's produced at the palace, we sell all over the Great Sea too! Our family is one of the first in Ugarit, and you're suggesting I become a rootless fugitive? An outcast that anyone could make a slave?"
"Your city has no walls," this was no longer Aeneas speaking, but me, Andrew Pearce, associate professor and so on.
"It'll be taken any day now. They took Byblos, they'll take Ugarit. Here in the harbor there were Achaeans from Crete, I heard their conversation. They're coming for you soon. Now that you've told me about the earthquake, it's obvious to any fool that you're easy pickings."
"God Ilu, giver of life, protect us!" Rapanu went pale.
"We'll bring you unprecedented sacrifices! We've got almost no army! Our lord King Ammurapi sent it to Lukka! The lord Suppiluliuma himself ordered it. Not a single chariot left in the city!"
"As soon as you see enemy sails on the horizon, load your family on ships and sail to Dardanus," I said.
"You can wait out the bad times here. We'll give you shelter and protection, and then we'll see."
"How do I know they're enemy sails?" Rapanu stared at me with intense attention.
"If there's more than three of them, they're enemies," I answered with conviction.
"What advice do you have for me?" the Athenian Timothy was looking at me with naive curiosity. "You're a prophet! Right?"
"No," I shook my head.
"I'm not a prophet, but I can give good advice. If you get stuck on the Amber Route before the cold hits, get warmer clothes made from sheepskins. And make decent shoes. In sandals you'll freeze your feet in no time and die for nothing. Winters there aren't like ours. You can't walk around naked."
"I'll talk to uncle," Timothy said thoughtfully.
"I don't know those places at all, we mostly sail the Great Sea with merchants. He used to go east for tin ore, but now there's no road there. You can still get to Babylon, but beyond that it's total disaster. The Lullubi and Kassites are rampaging, fighting to the death over pastures."
"Farewell!" I extended my hand.
They froze in bewilderment, then responded to the handshake and left for their ship.
And I stood there watching them go.
I still needed to figure myself out.
The kid, me that is, promised those guys hospitality, I muttered to myself, walking toward the city gates.
That was the right thing to do, by the rules. That's respected here. A host is almost like family. And I shook their hands as equals.
"How did I even end up here?" I looked around in complete bewilderment.
"I died, that's what. My heart was totally shot. Reincarnation? Unscientific! Ow!"
That was me stubbing my little toe on a stone.
Damn sandals!
A thin piece of leather with two straps, they didn't protect you from stuff like that at all, only protected the bottom of your foot.
The ground here was something else—nothing but rocks everywhere.
"Yeah, it's unscientific, but it sure hurts," I made peace with the harsh reality.
"Let's accept the situation as it is and keep thinking. If Ugarit's still intact and Suppiluliuma rules the Hittites, then we're at the beginning of the twelfth century BC. Around twelve hundred, give or take a huge margin. And when was the Trojan War? Or wars. In the range from 1250 to 1175. According to Eratosthenes—1184. So far everything checks out. Judging by the fact that the city's prospering, collecting tariffs and ripping off visiting merchants for imported tin, it hasn't happened yet. But considering I'm Aeneas and my father is Anchises, it'll definitely happen, and pretty soon. Well, crap!"
Then again, why crap?
I was young, healthy, and judging by Homer's verses, I'd still do plenty of stuff.
Except my mother wasn't Aphrodite at all. She was a local shepherd's daughter, and she died in childbirth.
Father never took anyone else.
Where was he, anyway?
Probably searched for me everywhere with the dogs.
I needed to run, or I'd catch it!