Destroyer of Cities

8

Leon’s encroaching old age wasn’t visible as he sprang up the streets of the city. He walked fast, talking all the time — scribes followed him, copying letters as they walked on tablets of wood and wax suspended from their necks.

No, Satyrus noted — not as they walked, but whenever they stopped. And talking to Leon was quite frustrating, because whenever a scribe finished a document, Leon took it and read it.

‘Your big penteres is magnificent. And you have six of the new engines aboard!’ Leon nodded approvingly, then went back to a bill of lading. ‘Have you decided on a price for your grain?’ he asked.

‘We haven’t practised with them-’ Satyrus began.

But Leon’s attention was on a letter quickly thrust into his hands — the scribe flashed Satyrus an apologetic smile, as if to say you may be a king, but if I don’t do this he’ll have my head. The letter was on a wax tablet, which Leon held close to his eyes to read. ‘Paideuo is a bad verb to use when we speak of instructing a peer, Epiktetos. Paideuo means, ‘I will teach you as if you were a child’. Leon winked at Satyrus. ‘Which in fact is the case, but let’s not say so out loud. Perhaps didasko.’ Leon paused, watched his scribe until he saw the stylus scratch away the old word and replace it with the new in the wax, and then looked back at Satyrus. ‘You haven’t trained with the new weapons?’

‘We’ve been a little busy,’ Satyrus said. Leon made him feel like a child, sometimes, without meaning to.

‘You stung Dekas, and that’s something.’ Leon’s dark eyes caught his. ‘Have you set a price for your grain?’ he repeated.

Satyrus nodded. ‘I know what my farmers need,’ he said, a little more sharply than he had intended.

Leon nodded, eyes on another tablet. ‘They’ll take your grain if you aren’t careful. That’s what I came down to warn you of. They’re desperate — far more desperate than the situation requires.’

Satyrus found the press of people threatening. ‘This is worse than being a popular kithara player in Alexandria,’ he said.

Leon nodded. ‘You are a famous man. I am a famous man. You just brought this city ninety days of grain. Maybe twice that. All in all, you are cause for celebration, and the two of us together are enough for a riot of celebrity. Ah — here we are.’ He paused. ‘Send a runner to your ships and tell your captains to moor and keep their crews aboard,’ he said.

His escort began to pass into a walled courtyard through a high gate. To the right was a synagogue — Satyrus knew the signs over the door in Aramaic and Greek.

Abraham was just inside the gate. Satyrus’ eyes passed over him for a moment because he expected a tall, athletic navarch, and what he saw was a heavily bearded Jew dressed in long robes.

But it registered — quickly enough that Satyrus doubted anyone had seen him hesitate. He opened his arms, and Abraham wrapped him in his own long arms.

‘King of the Bosporus!’ Abraham said. ‘Be welcome in my house.’

‘The Jew of Rhodes!’ Satyrus said in an equally dramatic voice. ‘Come and visit my kingdom!’

Abraham laughed and swatted him — a not-so-gentle backhand straight from adolescence and the gymnasium of Alexandria. ‘I’m impressing my neighbours, you useless aristocrat!’

Satyrus hugged him again, and then the gates closed behind the last files of Satyrus’ marines, and Apollodorus pulled his helmet off. He and Helios exchanged glances — Satyrus couldn’t help himself.

‘Trouble?’ he asked.

Helios shrugged. ‘I apologise, Captain.’

Apollodorus shrugged. ‘He ordered me and the marines off the ship. He’s your hypaspist — not my officer.’

Satyrus forced a smile. ‘This is not the place or time for this.’

Both men had the good grace to look abashed.

Satyrus turned to his former slave. ‘Helios, for your sins, you can run an errand for me. Leon — a tablet, if your scribes can spare one?’

Leon laughed, took a dark panel of wood from one of his people and handed it over with a bone pencil, and Satyrus wrote quickly in the hard wax. ‘Straight to Neiron, and not a word to any other man,’ he said, keeping a smile on his face.

Helios saluted, Macedonian fashion, and trotted off, head high, with his aspis still on his shoulder.

Satyrus turned to his host. ‘Abraham, you remember Apollodorus?’

Abraham laughed and embraced the marine officer. ‘Too well.’

Apollodorus laughed, too. ‘Not many men I’ve played “feed the flute girl” with, in public,’ he said.

Satyrus passed over that remark to introduce Helios. ‘My hypaspist, Helios, is the man I just sent away.’

‘I remember him well,’ Abraham said.

‘I don’t,’ Leon said. ‘I saw him several times lurking at your shoulder. He looks like a Greek.’

Satyrus nodded. ‘Yes, sir, he is.’

‘Former slave?’ Leon asked.

‘Citizen of Tanais!’ Satyrus proclaimed.

‘How does one “feed a flute girl”?’ asked a sweet voice.

Satyrus turned his head. Behind Abraham was his sister, Miriam. Satyrus had met her once, in her father’s house in Alexandria. Their eyes met.

She didn’t drop her eyes this time, any more than she had four years before. She had the boldest glance Satyrus had ever seen — well, with the exception of his sister, Leon’s wife Nihmu, and most of the Sakje women he knew. Her eyes were brown — deep brown, with flecks of gold in the iris. Her hair was a glorious profusion of browns with the same gold highlights as her eyes.

All of the men were staring at their sandals.

Satyrus laughed. ‘You have not changed,’ he said.

Abraham cleared his throat. ‘My sister Miriam,’ he said. ‘We should go inside.’

‘I apologise for the soldiers,’ Satyrus said. ‘I had little choice. The crowds were. . enormous.’

‘And you’ll need them the whole time you are here.’ Abraham raised his arm and pointed. ‘I have towers on my courtyard, here. Archers in the towers. Barracks for fifty men, and I employ thirty full-time. I can feed your men. Besides,’ he said with something of his old humour, ‘you’re paying.’

‘How splendid of me!’ Satyrus allowed. The courtyard was not very decorative, it was true — heavily cobbled, but with no statues and no garden. Archways led away into warehouses — archways big enough for a wagon to clear — and into the house. Satyrus took a moment to realise that this was bigger than his palace in Tanais. Then he laughed, and followed his host through an arch.

On the other side of the arch, he might have been in another world. They went into a rose garden with paths laid out in white marble, and small trees — apples, it appeared. The whole garden smelled like jasmine, although Satyrus couldn’t see a jasmine flower anywhere.

The house was typically Greek, with a colonnade that ran around the rose garden. But the walls, although brightly coloured, decorated with patterns, or painted with flowers, were devoid of gods, goddesses or dancing girls.

All very thought-provoking. Leon bowed to Abraham. ‘I have a lot of business, Abraham. Will you excuse me?’ and he was gone in a cloud of scribes, flashing Satyrus a look he couldn’t interpret.

Satyrus was ushered into the main room of the ground floor — like an old andron with a new mosaic floor. Satyrus laughed at the conceit; it was covered with bits of food, ends of bread, discarded bones and a sheep’s skull, all rendered lovingly in mosaic as if a feast had just been completed.

‘Beautiful!’ he said.

‘We’re Jews,’ Miriam said behind him. ‘We don’t use representations of people in our religion. But this seemed innocent. . and charming.’

Satyrus nodded. A slave came and took his chlamys and his sword.

Abraham brought him a cup of wine. ‘Welcome again to my house, brother.’

Satyrus raised his cup to both of them. ‘It is a pleasure to be your guest.’ He wondered why Abraham was suddenly so very Jewish, but he decided not to mention it. He put it down to the presence of the sister. She certainly had an effect on him.

‘Feed the flute girl?’ she asked.

‘Please drop the subject, Miriam,’ Abraham said.

She must be nineteen now, or perhaps twenty. Quite old to be unmarried. Or was that just among Greeks? Satyrus was suddenly struck with a desire to enquire, and he doubted Helios would know of whom to ask.

Satyrus smiled wickedly at his host. ‘I could tell her,’ he said.

‘Only if you want to find somewhere else to stay,’ Abraham shot back.

‘Shall I guess, then?’ Miriam asked. ‘I think it is unfair that my brother had such a liberal education and I’m always to be left at home, wondering what Plato said and how flute girls are fed.’

Satyrus realised that this was a game — that Miriam knew exactly how ‘feed the flute girl’ worked, that she was embarrassing her brother in public and that an astrologer might have marked this day with red ink against the possibility of social humiliations in all directions.

‘I have a great deal of grain to sell,’ Satyrus said. ‘I need to get down to it.’

Abraham nodded. ‘I was going to let you get your sandals off.’ He made a motion to his sister to leave. Instead, Satyrus felt a weight settle on his kline.

‘Miriam!’ Abraham said.

Satyrus turned his head. She was quite close — actually, she was at a perfectly respectable distance, one that would cause no comment among Greeks. But she was close enough for him to see the way the light played on the brown mass of her hair. He couldn’t help but smile.

‘I’m a widow,’ she said, and shrugged. ‘I can’t be expected to remain in hiding. Besides, Abraham, I am your hostess. Satyrus — the king — is as much my responsibility as yours. We are not in Father’s house.’

Satyrus thought that Abraham looked ready to explode. He put out a hand and touched his friend. ‘Grain,’ he said. ‘If my ships are unloading, now is not the time to bicker.’

Satyrus turned to Miriam. ‘I am delighted to renew acquaintance with you, Despoina. But your brother and I have business to discuss, and your teasing him will not help him dwell on the business at hand. Can the two of you suspend hostilities while I’m in the house?’

Miriam blushed. ‘My life with my brother is none of your business,’ she said.

Abraham looked stung. ‘Miriam!’

Satyrus made himself smile. ‘If you are my hostess, surely I can beg you to get me a cup of wine and a little privacy for some business?’

Miriam paused on her way to a display of temper. She looked at him for a moment, and a smile almost came to the area around her eyes. She rose to her feet and stalked away. She was very slim, Satyrus noted. Her legs must be very long indeed. He dismissed the thought as born of long abstinence and insufficient devotion to the Foam Borne.

It was a hard thought to dismiss as the transparent wool of her chiton outlined her hips and waist as she turned, the silken cloth hiding very little. And she smiled — not provocatively, but the smile of a person who likes another person. ‘I will see to your wine and comfort, then. And since we are speaking frankly, may I then bargain for time with both of you? I might play for you, for instance.’ She arched an eyebrow at her brother.

He relented immediately. ‘Of course! As soon as we have settled the fate of the world, love. And please join us for dinner. You are the hostess, and this is Rhodes, not Athens.’

After the sound of her sandals slapping the floors retreated into the peristyle, Abraham slapped his thigh. ‘If you ever retire from kingship, come and live with me and keep my sister in line. By Jehovah, Satyrus, that was well done.’ He frowned. ‘Since her husband died, there is no controlling her.’ He caught himself, with the air of a man who has said too much.

Satyrus suspected that there was more going on than an uncontrollable girl — and he knew his own sister would not let the word ‘controlling’ go by without comment. But he had grain to sell.

He shrugged. ‘I’ve always liked her, and my sister valued her company,’ he said. ‘And given my sister’s views on sequestered women, you will have to allow me to take her side.’

Abraham grinned his old, open grin. ‘She’s a widow, now. And rich enough. And to be honest, I’ve been tempted to ship her off to your sister to learn to ride and shoot. She’s far too intelligent to waste — she could run my warehouses without me, and no mistake.’ He shrugged. ‘If we weren’t Jews I’d buy her a temple post, and she could be high priestess of Artemis or Athena. Then she’d have some sort of life.’ He shrugged. ‘But she is a Jew — more a Jew, I think, than I. Shall we talk grain? How much do you have?’

‘I don’t know the exact count of my grain,’ Satyrus said. ‘More than ten thousand mythemnoi, anyway. What’s a mythemna of grain worth on the dock?’

Abraham raised an eyebrow. ‘Six drachma and some change.’

Satyrus grinned and his spirits soared, almost as if he’d won a victory. Perhaps he had. ‘I’m going to make a lot of farmers happy!’

Abraham nodded. ‘I’d like to buy the lot.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘If my credit is good. I don’t keep that kind of cash here. This city may fall — or may be called on to provide exceptional fines to buy off Antigonus.’ He shrugged. ‘This is poor bargaining. I’ll take your entire cargo at six drachma and three obols per mythemna, Athenian weights.’

‘Is Alexandria safer?’ Satyrus asked. He shrugged. ‘I’d be happy to sell to you, anyway.’

Abraham shook his head. ‘Nowhere is safe, so we divide our silver and gold among all our houses.’

Satyrus nodded. ‘Pay Leon in Alexandria, then. But take your fee for my ships and my men; and I have a list of things I’d like to buy here.’

Abraham looked interested. ‘What can I find for you?’

Satyrus made a face. ‘It’s a long list, brother — I live at the edge of civilisation. Spices, metal and skilled labour. Mostly smiths and tanners. I’d like to buy a whole industry’s worth of both. I can promise freedom and employment to every slave I buy — they have to be free in Tanais.’

Abraham whistled. ‘Skilled labour is cheap these days — Antigonus takes so many cities and sells so many into slavery. I’ll see what I can find you.’

‘Helios has the whole list,’ Satyrus said. He remembered his promise to the god. ‘I’d like a musician — a music teacher. For myself.’

‘Kithara or lyre? Very well — get me the list. I’ll get him to pass it to my factor. Anything else?’ Abraham smiled. ‘You are doing me a powerful favour. I’ll see to it you get the best music teacher ever taken in war.’

Satyrus nodded. ‘Good.’ He laughed aloud. ‘I’ve dreaded this moment for a month, and now it’s over. Oh — my farmers are saved.’

Abraham shook his head. ‘We’re not finished. First, I should only take about half. That way, I keep all my competitors as friends. Besides, if all your ships come in, we’re talking. . what did you say? Ten thousand mythemnoi?’

Satyrus nodded.

Abraham nodded back. ‘In any other year, you’d merely make money. This year, you can make a killing. You and me both, of course.’

A slave entered silently, spoke into Abraham’s ear and slipped out.

‘We have a visitor,’ Abraham said. ‘Nicanor is the Archon Basileus of Rhodes. Have you met him?’

‘Briefly. He was on the council of fifty when Rhodes approved the loan of a squadron to me in the last Olympic year.’ Satyrus stood up.

Nicanor son of Euripides was a small man with a slightly damp hand clasp. He tossed his chlamys to the slave. ‘You came with all your grain!’ he said as soon as he’d been given a cup of wine. ‘You don’t know what that means to us!’

Satyrus smiled. ‘You loaned me a squadron when I was an almost penniless adventurer,’ he said.

Nicanor frowned. ‘Yes, yes. It really is too bad — but I must tell you that the boule has just voted to take all of your grain at four drachma per mythemna. We passed a law.’

Abraham sat still for a moment, and then he took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, you passed a law to forbid Satyrus of the Bosporus to sell his own grain?’

Nicanor nodded. ‘Yes. We — that is, the city — are buying all of it. At a perfectly fair price: four drachma per mythemna. Nothing to fear there.’

Abraham stood silent — stunned.

Satyrus saw the ground crumbling under his feet. ‘Except that the grain is worth far more, and you know it. And if you do this, Nicanor, no man will ship grain here during the siege — if it comes to a siege. No one. You cannot do this.’

‘We have to prevent a panic and a run on bread prices,’ Nicanor said. ‘The safety of the city is at stake. Antiochus and his worthless son have agents operating in the city — among the slaves, among the lower classes. Agitators. There was almost a riot on the docks when you arrived.’

Abraham let out another sigh. ‘You forced every lower-class man in the city to work on the walls for a fixed price, but didn’t fix the price of bread,’ he said. ‘No one needs outside agitators to make trouble when you do that.’

‘If they don’t like working for us, they can leave,’ Nicanor said.

Satyrus shrugged. ‘I’ll sell you half my grain at seven drachma,’ he said. ‘The other half I’ll sell at a price that seems best to me, and to whomever I choose to sell it, including Leon’s factor in Alexandria. And if you mess me around, sir, I’ll take my warships and my as yet unloaded grain and sail away.’

The silent slave slipped in again and whispered to his master.

Nicanor rose to his feet to protest. ‘We need that grain. We have benefited you in the past, young man. You are, I believe, an honorary citizen of this city. You have obligations-’

Panther appeared at the door. ‘Nicanor, are you an idiot?’ he bellowed as soon as he entered.

‘We are stabilising the grain price!’ Nicanor said.

‘You are destabilising the city!’ Panther said.

Satyrus looked back and forth as they sparred — an argument of long duration and ancient antecedents, as far as he could tell. Interesting; Rhodes had always seemed like the most unified and powerful of cities. But now, with the threat of siege imminent and the enemy at the gates, the lines of fragmentation weren’t just obvious — they were dangerous.

As the two politicians argued, Abraham commented quietly. ‘They’re really all oligarchs, here. No democratic party to speak of, although with every generation, students import some democracy from Athens. But Nicanor’s people want direct control — really, polis-wide ownership of everything. Very Platonic. Mind you, they also want to limit the franchise to about two thousand men — the richest two thousand.’ Abraham sipped wine and gave a nasty laugh. ‘They’re foolish enough to believe that they can use the threat of siege to deprive the lower-class citizens of their rights. Everyone knows exactly what they have in mind. It’s ugly.’ He lay back. Nicanor paused to take a breath and Panther shouted him down. Abraham smiled. ‘If lungs are the weapons of oratory, Panther’s storm voice will win every time. Panther isn’t really in a party. He’s a sailor and a military man. But he understands trade. And the navy doesn’t want the oligarchs to do anything that will jeopardise trade. The navy needs free rowers with an interest in rowing well — in other words, an enfranchised lower class.’

Satyrus swirled the wine in his cup. ‘I think I should go back to my ship,’ he said. He felt the anger of a man who’d been at the point of an important victory and had it taken from him.

Abraham nodded. ‘I’m sorry. Very sorry; I had so looked forward to seeing you — but yes. You’ll strengthen your own hand by being on board.’ He shrugged. ‘Sorry for your farmers, too.’ He smiled a bitter smile. ‘And my sister, who, quite frankly, looked forward to your visit to relieve the tedium of her life. She has created errands for herself for a week.’

Satyrus nodded back. ‘If you’d summon my marines? And I’d like to see Leon.’

Abraham growled. ‘Leon was kind enough to leave us together so that we could renew old friendship. And I’m just a foreign metic here — I can’t even intervene in this argument. But I guarantee you that if Nicanor has his way, you’ll lose your grain — and his friends will sell it at a profit.’

‘I could always go and join Antigonus,’ Satyrus said.

Abraham swatted him. ‘Don’t even say that,’ he said.

Nicanor turned away from Panther. ‘You cannot bargain with the council, king or no king.’

‘On the contrary,’ Satyrus said. ‘I’m about to return to my ship and leave. I won’t bargain at all — you are quite correct.’

‘There will be a riot! I forbid it.’ Nicanor pulled his chiton up on his shoulder. ‘If the little people see all that grain leave us-’

Leon came in from the garden. This time, he didn’t have any scribes with him. ‘Nicanor, have you lost your wits?’ he asked.

‘I’ll sell you half, as I said,’ Satyrus put in. ‘Half, at seven drachma per mythemna, Athenian weights. The rest, to anyone I choose. You can have the cheap grain to keep bread prices low, and the merchants can make a profit off the rest.’

‘You call seven drachma cheap? Grain should cost less than three drachma!’ Nicanor was red, and his hand shot out. ‘Merchants like this Jew make a profit off of gentlemen!’

Panther laughed. ‘Nicanor is unaware, apparently, that we are a city full of merchants. Down, Nicanor. Heel, boy!’ He pushed himself into Nicanor’s face. ‘Grain was three drachma a mythemna when all of the Asian shore competed to sell us their grain. Well, Antigonus owns Asia now. If Satyrus didn’t bring us grain from the Euxine, we’d have none at all.’

‘Regardless, that is not what the council voted, young man. You may be a king up in the Euxine, but here on Rhodes you are just a foreigner.’ Nicanor smiled. ‘Four drachma is a fair price.’

Satyrus held out an arm, and one of Abraham’s slaves put his sword belt over his head while another slipped his chlamys over his shoulders. ‘Not to me. I’m sorry, Nicanor — I have people to whom I have a responsibility — small farmers, landowners, merchants. And I am not, as you have said, a xenos, a foreigner. If you seek to constrain me, a citizen, I suspect you’ll be lynched.’ Satyrus gave him a calculated grin. ‘I’ll tell you straight — if a man lays hands on me or my marines, blood will flow.’

Nicanor frowned. ‘This is your gratitude?’ He all but spat. ‘We gave you your kingdom, boy!’

‘Take my generous suggestion to the council and put it to them,’ Satyrus said gently.

‘We need your grain!’ Panther said. ‘However foolish Nicanor and the council are being, we need that grain.’

‘I am a dutiful son,’ Satyrus said. ‘I understand why Rhodes might want to have a supply of grain at a low price. I know that you helped me to my throne — help that resulted in a sea clearer of pirates and better grain prices. Help for which I paid in silver. But forget that. Take the council my counter-offer. Half — five thousand mythemnoi — at seven drachma. And even at that price, I would, of course, be mortified to find later that the same grain was being used to undercut other prices or to make private profit.’

Nicanor shook his head. ‘You mistake me entirely, Lord Satyrus.’ He drew himself up. ‘No king is going to dictate to the council.’

‘Very well. But please — take the boule my counter-offer. Half, at seven.’ Satyrus crossed his arms. ‘Or none at any price.’

Nicanor was angry, and unsure of himself — and aware that Satyrus was willing to call his bluff. ‘I will summon the speaker,’ he said, and swept from the room.

‘Pompous arse,’ Panther growled. He turned to Satyrus. ‘You understand that I cannot allow you to leave the port.’

Satyrus was chilled. ‘Panther, you cannot mean that.’

‘I do.’ Panther shook his head. ‘Sorry, sir. But your grain is the measure of our survival.’

‘Then let us hope the council sees sense,’ Satyrus said. ‘Because otherwise we’ll have a fight inside the harbour. And only Antigonus and the pirates will benefit.’ He cast a look at Leon. ‘I’m going to my ship.’ He offered his hand to Panther, and Panther took it.

‘I must put duty before friendship,’ Panther said.

‘Put good sense before both,’ Leon said.

‘I think your people are panicking,’ Satyrus said. ‘I think that if everyone takes a deep breath, all will be well.’

Panther nodded, took his cloak and all but ran from the room.

Leon raised a hand. ‘I’m with you. Let me send to have things brought to me.’ Leon spoke to a slave and nodded. ‘Nicanor is no more of a fool than an Athenian democrat — and better in a fight.’ He looked at Satyrus. ‘You handled that pretty well.’

Satyrus laughed. ‘I think I did. But will they agree?’

Leon shrugged. ‘You might have been a little less aggressive. Abraham here will tell you that the point is the deal, not who has the bigger cock. Right, Abraham?’

Abraham blushed. But then he raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d have been less antagonistic, yes. But you need to get to the harbour before someone — even Panther, and he’s a friend — decides to keep you from your ships. This could get ugly — uglier if the street mob becomes involved. ‘By the way, do I get the other half?’

Leon raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought I got the other half?’

Satyrus nodded. ‘You two can split half at seven drachma, and we’ll make up parcels for the other merchants at eight.’

‘Six and change — you accepted!’ Abraham protested.

Satyrus said, ‘Circumstances were a little different an hour ago.’ He shrugged. ‘Very well — you two at today’s market price. Everyone else at eight.’

Abraham seemed to relax. ‘Sorry. Life in Rhodes has been a little too exciting lately.’ He shook his head. ‘You stood in there — for me and for my price. I won’t forget.’

‘This from a man who used to make a hobby of being the first sword onto an enemy deck?’ Satyrus asked. ‘You are the brother of my heart, Abraham. I don’t have enough friends that I can afford to screw any of them on a deal.’ He embraced the man.

‘Risking my life is easier than risking my father’s money.’ Abraham rubbed his beard after they had embraced. ‘Six and change?’

‘Yes,’ Satyrus said.

‘Run for your ships, now,’ Abraham said. ‘If Nicanor relents, come back. We have quite a dinner for you.’

Leon shook his head. ‘Panther was about to tell us that Smyrna and Miletus are empty,’ he said. ‘Antigonus’ fleet is gone. Where has it gone, probably Cyprus?’

‘So there’s no risk of siege,’ Satyrus asked, ‘and the grain price will fall?’

Leon made a clucking noise with his tongue. ‘Rhodes is going to be besieged, my friend. This summer, next summer — the walls and the grain will not be wasted. But if Plistias — that’s Antigonus’ admiral, Plistias of Cos — is not here, then he’s off for Cyprus to get Menelaeus.’

‘Ptolemy’s half-brother?’ Satyrus asked. ‘Ptolemy trusted his useless half-brother with a fleet?’

‘That’s just what it is,’ Leon said. ‘Trust. Ptolemy can’t give one of his Macedonians the fleet — they might just hand it over to Antiochus. Or Demetrios. Golden Boy has spies everywhere, and he pays good money for a little betrayal. It’s one of the reasons we all have bodyguards.’

Satyrus nodded. ‘I thank the gods every day for the men my father and mother left me,’ he said.

‘Never trust a Macedonian,’ Leon said. ‘At any rate, if Plistias is at sea, heading for Cyprus, we have a free hand with Dekas. If we put to sea immediately, we can catch him off Chios — or hit him as he sails south to join Antigonus.’

Satyrus grinned. ‘I have twenty-two ships.’

Leon nodded. ‘I only have eight. But if Panther will bring us a dozen, we’ll have enough.’

Abraham shook his head. ‘I can tell you what Panther will say. He has to get cruisers to sea. To cover our grain ships. And to be frank, my friends — and I shouldn’t be telling you this — the boule is negotiating with. . with Antigonus One-Eye. Rhodes cannot spare a ship that might appear to be making war on One-Eye.’

Leon’s dark skin paled and then flushed. ‘Rhodes is selling Ptolemy out?’ he said. ‘That’s why Nicanor feels he can take such a high hand with Satyrus!’

Abraham raised an eyebrow. ‘Rhodes is not part of Lord Ptolemy’s kingdom,’ he said. ‘They offer no betrayal. In fact, they warned us, last winter, that this would have to be tried.’

Leon sat down suddenly on a couch. ‘What in Tartarus. .?’ he asked. ‘Titans below! Witness the confusion of an old man. Ptolemy agreed to this?’

‘Ptolemy had no choice,’ Abraham said. ‘He cannot compel Rhodes, any more than Antigonus can, short of a siege. The death of Demostrate was the last straw. Rhodes needs peace.’

Leon put his head in his hands for a moment. Satyrus had seldom seen the man he called his uncle so defeated.

‘Leon?’ he asked. ‘What can we do?’

‘We can catch Dekas,’ Leon said, raising his head. ‘If we can defeat him, we put Rhodes back on the board, back where they were before Demostrate died.’ To the gods, he said, ‘They had a choice — to strike at the pirates themselves, and tell One-Eye’s ambassadors that piracy was none of their business.’

Abraham shrugged. ‘Two years ago, perhaps. But Antigonus waxes and Ptolemy wanes. Even I think that that Farm Boy is almost finished.’

Leon frowned. ‘Very well. The king and I have much to discuss.’

Abraham nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’

Leon got up and embraced Abraham. ‘As am I. You know that I love Rhodes second only to Alexandria.’

Leon turned to Satyrus. ‘I have landed you in this. If you choose to take your warships and sail away, I’ll understand.’

Satyrus shook his head. ‘No. I like a good risk. And the Rhodians are behaving. . irrationally. Antigonus wants their city. Not their alliance. Or so I hear it.’

Leon poured himself some wine. ‘Agreed. So we strike. Can you put straight to sea?’

‘All depends if my trierarchs let my rowers go ashore.’ Satyrus saw Helios in the doorway. ‘Message delivered?’ he asked.

‘Yes, lord,’ Helios said, and saluted. He nodded and vanished.

Leon got to his feet slowly. ‘Old age is a curse. If we put to sea today, we can camp on Telos tonight and be at his throat in the morning.’

‘I’ll follow you out of the harbour,’ Satyrus said, swinging his sword scabbard under his arm.

‘Like old times,’ Leon said.

‘Better, I hope,’ Satyrus said. The last time they’d fought a battle together, they’d lost. Badly.

Apollodorus had all the marines on their feet in the courtyard. Satyrus smiled at Charmides, trying to remember who it was he looked like.

‘Abraham?’ Satyrus called.

As if summoned by magic, Abraham appeared at his elbow. ‘I wish you could stay.’

‘I’ll come again.’ Satyrus said. ‘I have a half-arsed navarch in a big trireme — sure you wouldn’t like to come and fight a ship?’

Abraham hesitated for as long as a musician might play three notes. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘My place is here.’

Satyrus was disappointed, but he tried not to show it. ‘Fair enough. Please give my regards to your sister.’

‘You must teach me how to talk to her.’ Abraham embraced him.

‘Talk to her as if she were a young man,’ Satyrus said. ‘And get her a tutor. A good one.’

‘Other Jews would be scandalised,’ Abraham said. But he laughed. ‘I should have thought of that myself.’ He looked around. ‘How big a ship?’

Satyrus tried to hide a smile. ‘If I gave you my own penteres, would you come?’

Abraham hesitated.

‘You know the offer is open,’ Satyrus said. Despite the rush of the last hour, and the deep disappointment over the grain, he felt a huge surge of affection for Abraham; his heart pounded as if he was in action. ‘Come with me!’

Abraham evaded the closest part of the embrace and stepped clumsily backwards. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, my place is here.’

And then Satyrus was out of the gate, surrounded by his own marines and moving fast, almost at a trot.

What has happened to my Abraham? he thought, and then buried that with all the other disappointments — a habit that was getting too easy, the rapid compartmentalising of anger, social failure, anything that got in the way of the next task. He wondered if the Rhodians would use force, or do something foolish to prevent them from leaving. That was the immediate peril. Abraham would have to wait.

There were people in the streets — lots of lower-class men, a few women. But they offered only a few cheers, and did nothing to slow Satyrus’ passage, and he was in sight of the pier in the time it would take a man to run two stades. A fast man.

On the big wharf, he found that Abraham had sent supplies — a warehouse full of wine, oil and cheese. Diokles was standing under a pole crane, watching hampers of oil jars being swung aboard the Bosporan ships.

‘We’ll be ready for sea in an hour,’ he said. ‘Got your message. Helios ran his lungs out.’ Diokles grinned. ‘I’ve ordered the ships to go over to the headland and shoot practice bolts as soon as they are loaded.’

‘You’re a prince,’ Satyrus said. He was back aboard his ship, and the last few hours seemed like a dream. ‘But they’ll have to stay at their moorings unless we all leave together.’

‘We’ll need water,’ Neiron said as soon as he’d stowed his armour again.

‘On the beach tonight — some place Leon knows.’ Satyrus was lost in thought. ‘If we leave.’

‘We going to fight?’ Neiron asked.

‘Yes,’ Satyrus said. ‘Maybe right here in the harbour.’

‘Heavy odds?’ Neiron asked.

‘Two to one. Pirates.’ Satyrus answered. ‘Or six to one against the Rhodian navy.’

‘I won’t fight Rhodes, and neither will Diokles,’ Neiron said.

‘Not even if they plan to steal our grain?’ Satyrus asked.

Neiron sat heavily on the helmsman’s bench. ‘That bad?’

‘That bad. It’s as if all the spine’s gone out of these men,’ Satyrus said. He slammed his hand down on the rail. ‘Shit! I was so close to selling our grain and being done with this.’

Neiron stared at him.

‘What?’ Satyrus said. ‘I’m tired of fools and ambushes and greed!’ He shrugged at Neiron. ‘I’m tired of-’ he began, and clamped down on the words. He had been about to say that he was tired of being king, and being alone, with no peers and no friends, merely subordinates, followers and critics.

Neiron looked away, discomfited. ‘Someone coming,’ he said, sounding relieved. ‘Someone important.’

Satyrus looked past his trierarch and saw Nicanor coming down the wharf, a purple cloak flashing behind him, and in his train a dozen more cloaks each worth the price of a small ship. The boule.

‘Time to get off my high horse,’ Satyrus said. ‘No attendants. Helios — give me your plain cloak from under the bench. Hold mine. Look friendly.’ Satyrus put a plain dun-coloured military cloak over his finest chiton and leaped straight onto the wharf and strode towards the councillors, obviously alone and unarmed.

Panther was there, and Herion, and another couple of men that Satyrus could remember from former visits to Rhodes.

Before Nicanor could speak, Satyrus raised his right hand like an orator, and forced a smile. ‘Youth often causes hot words,’ he said, ‘and I beg you gentlemen to forgive my desire to be a good king to my people and a smart merchant on these docks. I will offer you one half of my grain for six drachma, not seven. Five thousand mythemnoi at six drachma will make it the cheapest grain in Rhodes. And perhaps will settle any ill feeling.’

Nicanor raised an eyebrow. ‘You are less truculent than I expected.’

Satyrus nodded. ‘I do not seek conflict here. Like you, I am not in open war with Antigonus — but I am at war with your pirates. And any fracture between us will only cause our enemies to celebrate.’

Nicanor nodded at the rest of the councillors as if to say, See, is it not as I have foretold? He crossed his arms. ‘As you seem willing to negotiate, perhaps you will meet our price. Which remains four drachma for the entirety of your cargo.’

Satyrus did not lose his smile. He felt like he did when he took on a new opponent at pankration. ‘At that price, I sail away. Or fight your navy in your harbour, and do you every damage I can do. This is not boyishness. It would be the result of your treating my offer with contempt — with hubris. My grain does not come from ten stades away across the straits. My grain comes from thousands of stades away, and requires a fleet to defend it, and at four drachma my farmers are losing money. Losing money after four years of war.’ Satyrus tried to catch the eyes of the other men — tried to move them with his sincerity.

Nicanor tucked his thumbs in his girdle and smiled. ‘You won’t fight,’ he said.

Satyrus looked past him at the other merchants, the admirals of the fleet, the countryside aristocrats. ‘This man is risking your future and mine on an amount of money that is essential to my small kingdom and, quite frankly, nothing much to your city. I put it to you that he does so for his own purposes-’

Nicanor spat. ‘Put the fleet to sea and take these barbarians,’ he said to Panther.

Satyrus felt a whirl of rage — frustration and rage together — that this one man should baulk him, for no other reason apart from his own greed and power. The temptation to take the man and break his neck was so powerful that he shook, and Nicanor stepped back suddenly.

Panther shook his head. ‘Nicanor, I beg you,’ he began, and Leon appeared, running along the wharf like a much younger man.

‘Nicanor,’ Leon said.

Nicanor was too angry to respond. ‘I demand,’ he began.

‘Nicanor, Demetrios is at sea. He may be after you, or after Menelaeus and Ptolemy. But the war is on, Nicanor. And if you do this to Satyrus — by all the gods, I promise you that no independent merchant will ever sail here again. You’ve already lost Athens. Would you lose Alexandria and the Euxine, too? And the rest of you — I am only another rich metic, but by Poseidon’s mighty horses, has Zeus stolen your wits? Do you think that you can dictate your will like this? I am no boy, Nicanor — I have years on you — and I tell you that you are threatening the foundations of your city more thoroughly than Demetrios and his three hundred ships!’

The men of the boule shifted uncomfortably, and Nicanor’s face grew so red as to be almost purple. He spat. ‘You, too! You betray us, too, in our hour of need!’

‘What betrayal?’ Leon shook his head. ‘Nicanor, you act like Agamemnon on the beach, trying to seize Achilles’ bride. Consider the result, Agamemnon. And relent.’

Nicanor stood, breathing heavily.

Satyrus extended his hand to Nicanor. ‘Five drachma six obols, and half my grain. I cannot make a better offer. Please, sir — as the younger man, I make apologies for my intemperance. Let us not make this personal, but do what is best for our city.’

That was the last arrow on his bow, and he shot it well. Instantly, he could tell that the boule was with him now. And Nicanor would look not just ungracious, but foolish to refuse. And he would still make a profit that would bring a smile to Gardan’s face. He locked eyes with Nicanor and made himself smile, and blink, and act the lesser man.

Nicanor took his hand. ‘You have good manners, for a king,’ he said. But he didn’t smile, and Satyrus did not think that they were friends. ‘Order your grain unloaded.’

Leon stepped up beside Satyrus. ‘It is customary to sign the contract first,’ he said with a gentle smile. ‘And I happen to have a scribe right here.’

Nicanor shrugged. ‘What a lot of fishwives you foreigners are,’ he said. ‘Panther can sign for Rhodes. I have friends to entertain.’ The man nodded — the least civility that was not a direct offence — and left with a flash of his magnificent cloak. Satyrus noted that half a dozen of the boule left with him.

The richer half-dozen.

Panther glanced after him with a look not far from pure hate. ‘And now it is my name on this contract. For the next time he wishes to cut down the budget of the navy, that protects him. What a worthless cur he is.’

‘Sadly,’ Leon said, a frown on his face, ‘my scribe has already written The lord Nicanor and the boule have agreed at the top of the document and we don’t have any more papyrus. So if you could simply sign “for the boule of Rhodes”, I think we might all’ — and here Leon smiled like the lion he really was — ‘rejoice quietly. And let our boys stand down and find themselves a wine shop.’

Satyrus nodded. ‘What about Dekas?’ he asked.

‘Too late now. Too much time spent haggling. First light.’ Leon smiled at Panther. ‘Ten ships, and we are certain of victory.’

Panther shook his head. ‘I can’t spare one.’ Then he grinned. ‘Well — I can spare one. Mine.’

‘Long odds,’ Satyrus said.

Leon nodded. ‘We must. Or Rhodes is off the board.’

Satyrus did not soon forget his dinner that night at Abraham’s house. He was welcomed again, as if he had been gone for another pair of years — and he sat to a dinner of Numidian chicken and Athenian tuna, lobsters, subtle spice, subtle changes of texture and temperature, bowls of ice exchanged for soup that burned the tongue, and wines each more exquisite than the last. And dancers — not the usual erotic dancers, but fine young men and women dancing like temple dancers, and tumblers who performed prodigies of leaping and landing, and a pair of men in armour who started to fight as if to the death and then began to turn coward, the broadest and funniest mimes that Satyrus had seen since he left Alexandria. He laughed so much that tears started in his eyes and he had to wipe his nose, taken utterly by surprise.

His eyes met Miriam’s, and she, too, was wiping her nose, and she laughed all over again. ‘You are a good guest,’ she said from her own couch. ‘Every hostess dreams of pleasing guests as much as you are so obviously pleased.’ She pointed at her steward. ‘This is Jacob, a cousin; he found many of these men and women.’

Jacob bowed from where he was running the entertainment. ‘Delighted you are pleased,’ he murmured.

Abraham came and lay next to Satyrus. ‘She chose them all herself,’ he said. ‘She has a wonderful head for it, and she did it without offending any of our laws. Jacob helps, of course. No lewdness, no Hellenistic religion. I could never have found the time, and already my dinners are renowned for being dull.’

‘Not after tonight,’ Satyrus said, and he raised a golden cup to Miriam. His eyes swung back to Abraham. He was a little the worse for wine, and needed a clear head to command his ships in the morning, but he couldn’t hold his tongue for ever. ‘You didn’t used to care a whit for such things, brother. You used to attend parties that could never, ever be called dull, for all that they might have ended in chaos.’

Abraham nodded. ‘I must seem a hypocrite to you, Satyrus. But blood is thicker than water, and I have made my father a promise: to live according to the law for three years. It is not so bad, except when the man I love above all others offers me a fighting ship and a sword.’ Abraham lay back. ‘By God, I miss the sea.’

Satyrus was drunk enough to think of pressing the argument. But respect for parents was a core belief for Satyrus — the more so as he had never known his own father, who was worshipped as a hero, and sometimes as a god, by many men.

‘A promise to your father is a sacred thing,’ Satyrus said, after the temptation to seize the moment had passed.

Abraham hugged him. ‘Thanks,’ he said.

When Abraham slipped off the kline to see to Panther and Leon, locked in discussion of a sea fight, Satyrus looked around for Miriam — eager to praise her arrangements, he told himself. Perhaps just too eager to see her brown eyes, and the pleasure she seemed to take in his pleasure.

But her couch was empty. Nor did she reappear.

He had one more cup of wine, from which he poured a libation carefully couched to offend no one. He passed the cup among his captains, and Leon’s, and Abraham drank too, for a few moments one of them again.