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Britomartis' Garden

Ten men departed from Mittentown at the crack of dawn. As warriors they were clad in furs and wore sturdy leather sandals. They were armed and armored with axes, clubs, slings, bronze daggers and helmets of thick leather. Some of them also carried bows and arrows. Well equipped for their three-day journey to Zakton, they were loaded with waterskins and plenty of dry food.

Men they were indeed. As the passage into manhood took place at the age of thirteen, Areus with his twenty three years of age was the oldest fighter, together with Sthenelos, their guide.

For some hours they ascended a steep and winding trail all the way up to the mountain pass in an altitude of 3000 feet, experiencing a spectatular sunrise over the sea, followed by hours of bright and increasingly hot sunshine. The peak of the Marantzaki was enveloped in clouds, and when they reached the pass after a rocky climb, they were covered by heavy fog.

Immediately behind the pass the landscape changed dramatically. The wanderers found themselves in a mellow valley covered by a meadow full of purple-green sorrel and asphodel blooming in white.

"Be careful", Sthenelos warned them, "now we are in the range of the marauders and their horses. We must avoid the open space, not to warn them ahead of time and not to be caught ourselves." - "Do you really want us to take the route all along the edge of the plane rather than simply walking across this valley?" asked Areus: "This will cost us days." - "Amynander has explicitly requested that there be no contact with the enemy before we reach Zakton", Sthenelos replied excitedly, waiving his arms about. After a short break, he calmed down and added: "And it makes a lot of sense to me. We will be there in time."

So they chose the painstakingly slow route, seeking cover under evergreen mastic shrubs in yellow bloom and low firs. At dusk they took rest between thorny and bushy trees without lighting a fire. All through the next day, Sthenelos guided them along the path he had explored on his way south, and it was amazing to see how fast he managed to move forward, ever limping in his characteristic way. From time to time, Areus vaguely remembered the trail he used long ago when visiting his fiancée, or later occasionally his in-laws. And he had enough time to brood over his failure at the Keftian Palace of Pillars: They seemed so perfect. There had to be a tender spot.

Around sunset on the next day they reached a fork in the hardly visible path. - "This trail to the right leads down to the sea", Sthenelos explained: "Just a few fishers live there. Let's take the other direction and seek a place for our night camp soon."

When it finally was too dark to continue, they were surprised to see the flicker of a fire in the distance, and as they cautiously approached, it turned out that there were three Kurgans camping around a fire place. Their three big black horses stood strapped nearby, with bridles and saddles to go. Sthenelos glanced first at the horses, then at the three men, and then he whispered: "What the heck, let's get them." - Areus replied in a low voice: "But didn't you tell us that ..." - "Shush! Look at the horses! If we had such beasts, they would never scare us again!"

The attack went better than anyone had expected: the three thugs had tasted enough red wine from their wineskins and were unsuspecting. Sneaking up to them, Areus heard them chat to each other, if indeed they were using a language. To him, it sounded more like the sound of crows. Then the men from Mittentown gave them short shrift, stabbed, beat, kicked them as good as they could and in no time all three were dead.

Only then they took a closer look at ther victims. The slain men came from far away. Their skin was reddish pale, their long thick light-brown hair was tied up behind the back of their head, their thick and shaggy beards and walrus mustaches were long and untended, too. In contrast, Areus, like all men of his people, had black hair, little beard growth and wore his beard short.

Luckily, the ground was sandy, and with a short ceremony they hastily buried the three. The rekindled fire gave the ten troopers warmth in this season's chilly night, and the victim's supplies enriched their simple but pleasant supper. And then there was this silver cup they found in one of the saddle bags.

The trouble began, when in the morning the men from Mittentown, who had never seen a horse before, tried to depart with the newly captured black mares. Not that these would actively resist. But if you want to ride a horse, you have to know how to saddle it. When it is saddled, you have to know how to handle the bridle. Then you have to mount it, and so on. In short, somehow or other the ten troopers led their horses afoot.

The first part of the way wasn't even all that bad. In the midst of elder, blackberry shrubs and pear trees they passed a derelict hamlet. - "Who would leave such an idyll?", Areus asked, and Sthenelos answered jokingly: "This is one of the gardens of Britomartis".

Much worse was the descend from the mountain plateau down to Zakton. They had to follow the gravel bed of a dried river inside a steep canyon. The horses stumbled and tripped, and more than once by a hair's breadth draged their new owners under. To the left and right, cliffy rock faces rose straight to the sky. Again and again they looked like eerie ancient castles, built by the gods.