Гарри Тертлдав - The First Heroes

He'd married young at duty's harsh direction

But when his first wife died, without delay

He indulged his paedic predilection

Learned from a mentor held in fond affection.

That "valet" was a pretty teen, well-bred,

Who dressed him, yes, but also warmed his bed.

No more though—no more sleeping in his arms;

No more watching youth turn, with the days,

Into a man; no more his boyish charms

Nor his hard body that led thoughts astray;

No more teaching a young protege—

For Kallimorphos, when he could contrive,

Abandoned Aeacus for his twin wives.

These childhood friends together had planned his break

From royal duties. The king, not knowing this,

In private cursed how Chance made him forsake

His chance for happiness—exchanged for his

Two ants. At least his had good statuses:

Two leaders, both negotiators, who'd

Grown fond of this old man who wasn't lewd.

The chief of huntresses, blonde Cyrene,

Thought from her dawn encounter that the king

Was as quick-witted as leaders need to be.

Lampito knew, from daily stewarding

His castle, otherwise—while valuing

That all he did he did with good intent,

And, too, his pliancy to management.

When she'd arrived, the management was needed—

Old steward dead of plague, staff disarrayed;

She'd started giving orders; they were heeded.

The king'd ignored his household while it frayed

To dodder round his country—which dismayed

An erstwhile ant who pined for household order:

The queen's house and the state had shared one border.

Between his servicing two wives (while jealous

Of his valet) the king could hardly stay

Upright. At least Lampito was less zealous

Near Cyrene, who balanced out her ways,

But by first light, her co-wife went away

On hunts, which left him in Lampito's hands,

Her energy, her strength, and her demands.

The other men had no advice for him:

The elders, even those remarried, all

Had older wives who cut their juniors' trim;

The youngsters, on the other hand, could call

Upon their energy. These national

Small compromises they were fashioning

Were different for the commons than the king.

Which goes to show that every permutation

Of bodies and of beds both can and will

Be tried—through all the times and nations

A marriage party usually is filled

Per balance of the sexes. It's hard, still,

Because of claims from old religious quarrels,

To keep in mind conditions make our morals.

But such is life, distractible and local—

Like fights that have become their own excuse.

The king retreated into bland but vocal

Pigheadedness, pretending to be obtuse

On issues they debated—from the use

Of palace funds, to plans for his domain:

Not dredge the channel—repair the harbor chain.

"Without good trade, there'll be no revenue,"

She argued, "and defenses cost too much."

What can a wife (and former steward) do

When her good sense has been ignored?

She clutched Her righteousness, and upped demands a notch.

He thought he'd reached the depths of his dismay—

Then Cretan Minos rowed into the bay.

This ruler soi-disant of all the seas

Had wrested Crete from regent brothers, all

So he and his could do just as they please—

Wife's tastes were bestial, son's beastial,

Which worked, for his were architectural.

He'd heard of small Aegina's plague and flight

And thought he'd conquer it without a fight.

Alarms! Excursions! Mobilize our forces!

War ships in harbor! Enemies have come!

King Aeacus was filled with all remorses—

He'd let the stubborn fight distract him from

Those critical defenses. He felt numb,

Especially when the ultimatum came:

Immediate submission or the flame.

Lampito realized, as her husband claimed,

Expensive walls and weapons were really needed;

The thought she'd weakened the nest left her shamed.

As men's and myrmidons' demands exceeded

Her rationed swords and shields, her hopes receded,

But with her co-wife gone—off hunting things—

'Twas left to her alone to aide the king.

Each side's commander soon received reports:

Aegina's rocky shores were all secure,

With no place for a landing but the port—

But there, alas, defensive works were poor.

The myrmidons were news, unknown before,

But Minos didn't do a double-take.

"More women? Ha! They're nothing." Big mistake.

Formalities: Aegina spurned surrender.

Thus answered, Cretans landed on the quay

To find that they were fighting either gender:

The men were trained, but women meaner—they

Threw all their strength and numbers in the fray,

All weapons raised against invading males:

Swords, brickbats, pointy sticks, teeth, fingernails.

At first they held their ground. Their viciousness

Unnerved the Cretans—myrmidons fought hard,

Ignoring danger, to protect their nest,

And men, to save their wives. Thus caught off-guard,

They were confined and couldn't gain a yard,

But with good armor and their better training,

The Cretans forced a breech, and soon were gaining.

They battled house to house, result too clear,

Till Cyrene at last came from the hills

With all her huntresses, each armed with spears—

All former soldier ants fresh from the kill.

Resistance stiffened under her—but still,

The Cretan front kept rising up, not falling:

The death rate of defenders was appalling.

The myrmidonic tactics were the cause:

Their sense of strategy was mass attack

In crowded interference, without a pause

To make sure that reserves were at their back.

Retreat on purpose? The thought took them aback.

King Aeacus soon realized that while he

Was not obeyed, they'd follow Cyrene.

But she was in the deepest thick of things

And wouldn't back out either. It was hot,

But shielded by Lampito, our brave king

Worked through the battle din to where she fought—

Which made the ants who saw him quite distraught—

And once he caught her and her sole attention,

He then explained his tactical intention:

That first, Aeginetans in front fall back

To draw the Cretans out, then sides sweep in

Behind their rear, now open to attack.

The plan was good, but Cyrene didn't grin—

She saw a flaw, much to the king's chagrin:

"What keeps our enemy, while we retreat,

From pressing on to finish our defeat?"

Lampito, with her managerial skills,

Knew what: unused material for planned

New houses could make barricades to fill

The streets, behind which fighters could safely stand.

The work was quickly done at her command,

And Cyrene then plunged where battle pressed

To give the word: fall back, sweep round, invest.

They fell back in good order; with fighters freed,

As quick as knives her counter then attacked

The Cretans. Minos missed what happened—he'd

Blinked—suddenly, instead of helpless city sacked,

He'd lost his landing party. His wrist smacked,

He soothed his ego with an easy crime

And went to bully Athens one more time.

They held a sacrifice in celebration—

This after clean-up—during which they mourned

And newly dead were given their libation.

That done, while some remarriage plans were formed,

They partied hard—though Aeacus was scorned

By Kallimorphos. Thrown into a funk,

He was consoled by getting rather drunk.

The skills of both his wives were sorely tested,