Destroyer of Cities

BOOK FOUR

DEMETRIOS’ CAMP, ISLE OF RHODES, LATE SPRING, 305 BC

Stratokles watched his mistress flirt with Demetrios with all the unease of a father watching his daughter flirt with a pimp.

He was forced to admit that at some level, they belonged together. He had seldom seen two such perfect bodies, each with the same blaze of golden hair, and they seemed to recognise something in each other — something that allowed self-love to be interpreted as love.

And she was coy with the golden man, in a way she was seldom coy. Five days in his camp, and his hands had yet to touch her body. Stratokles had to give her full marks for discipline, in this instance. She was not Banugul. She had other strings to her bow, other arrows in her quiver.

‘I take it that you have brought me here to see me die?’ Nestor asked him. The black giant was standing at his shoulder.

Stratokles had many faults, but cowardice was not among them. So he didn’t flinch, even in his heart. ‘We’re not exactly friends, are we, Nestor?’

Nestor shook his head. ‘No.’

‘I expect you could organise my death as easily as I could organise yours,’ Stratokles said. He nodded to his lieutenant, Lucius, who had arranged to stand very close to Nestor. The Italian was the deadliest man Stratokles had ever known, and Stratokles was a veteran fighter himself.

Nestor was as unperturbed as Stratokles had been. ‘Perhaps,’ Nestor said. ‘Although not all men are vipers.’

‘Shall we have a truce, Nestor? I have to lead these men — our mistress will expect nothing less. I will not work your demise if you will not work mine.’ He looked into Nestor’s eyes. The warrior was absolutely honest: if he meant to deceive, Stratokles would know instantly.

Nestor smiled. ‘Will you swear an oath, Athenian?’

Stratokles nodded. ‘Of course.’

Nestor smiled. ‘What oath would I accept?’ he asked.

Stratokles stood up to the other man. ‘I keep my word,’ he said angrily.

‘Really?’ Nestor asked. ‘I ask all the gods to witness, then. By the River Styx, on which the gods themselves swear. By Zeus, who hears all oaths. By the furies, who haunt the oath-breaker. I swear that, as long as I serve my mistress Amastris, I will take no action by thought or word or deed to harm you, Stratokles.’ He laughed. ‘Will you swear the same?’

‘What need, since you are already bound?’ Stratokles laughed.

Nestor returned his laugh. ‘What need to ask of me an oath, Athenian?’ he said. He grinned at Lucius. ‘Since we both know that I would only kill you face to face. You seek me to demand an oath that you would need from a man like you. But I am not a man like you — and if I were, my oath would not bind me. Isn’t it droll?’ he asked.

He walked off. Stratokles looked at Lucius, who shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘Don’t look at me, boss,’ Lucius said.

‘I may need him dead one of these days,’ Stratokles said.

‘Kill him yourself, boss,’ Lucius said. ‘My sense is that that one will take a lot of killing.’

Stratokles had to laugh. ‘I don’t need you to tell me that. And can I tell you a secret, Lucius? I rather like him.’

‘Me too,’ said Lucius. He shrugged in his Italianate way. ‘I’ve had to kill men I liked and I’ve never fancied it. So I won’t do Nestor. OK?’

Stratokles nodded. ‘Fair enough. We’ll die like autumn flies in this siege, anyway. You’ve been a soldier more often than me.’ Stratokles nodded at the camp walls. ‘How is our golden hero doing?’

Lucius gathered his cloak around himself. It was late spring, and the water temperature was still cold, and the breath of wind off the ocean was not warm. ‘He was badly beaten the other night, before we came in. He lost two thousand men — that’s two thousand men dead — trying to storm the harbour defences. I talked to a handful of survivors who swam out — the Rhodians built a hidden wall a stone’s throw behind the harbour wall. Fucking clever, if you ask me. Never seen it done in Italy. Heard it talked about, but these bastards went and did it — a stade of it.’

‘Two thousand men,’ Stratokles was dismayed. He’d expected to find Rhodes on the verge of falling.

Lucius shrugged. ‘He’s got men to burn — not many as good as ours, but he has a fair number — he has some of his father’s men, and some good Macedonians, and some Argyraspides that his father probably wants him to kill off, if only to save their pay.’ He shrugged again. ‘He’ll win — never fear. But I think this siege has a month left in it. Especially since he seems to be getting ready to have another go at the harbour.’

Hours later, walking on the sand, trailing after his mistress as she walked arm in arm with the Golden King, he heard Demetrios.

‘Is it not like Troy?’ Demetrios asked. He waved a bronze-clad arm at the line of ships. ‘A thousand ships have their sterns in the sand, my dear. A thousand ships. And we are the noble Achaeans, come to take lofty Ilion — not so lofty, but damned strong.’

Amastris laughed at him. ‘It is a little like posturing, Great King. Windy Ilion took ten years and more to fall. And none of your attacks has taken any ground yet.’

Demetrios paused and looked at her — a long look, a look that went on to the point where everyone stopped, all the courtiers and guards, all the attendants, all the slaves.

‘A lesser man would explode in rage that you should doubt him,’ Demetrios said. ‘But lesser men are. . lesser. They lack confidence, and they choose rage when what they truly express is fear. I am not like them. I will take Rhodes because I am the best man — indeed, because I am like a god. I have a great army, a great fleet, superb engineers — and over all of it, my own commanding will. They have none of these things — but they have a strong wall, and they are brave. In a way, I love them for it. This is the contest of my life, Amastris. If they were unworthy, I would lose as much as they lose. If this siege takes ten years, let them be years of greatness.’

Amastris looked into his remarkable eyes with her own. Stratokles was close enough to hear her. She made him proud. ‘You speak like a god, my lord. Next you will compare me to Helen.’

Demetrios grinned, not like a god but like a boy. ‘That would be foolish, lady. If you were Helen, you would be in the city, wretched at your betrayal of your husband and your infidelity.’

He didn’t see how his words, meant to flatter, narrowed her eyes instead.

He went on, oblivious. ‘You are outside the city,’ he said.

‘Oh,’ she shot at him. ‘Am I Briseis, then, or another spear-won trull?’

Demetrios laughed his golden laugh. ‘Do not mistake me for a fool, lady, and I will not mistake you for a mortal woman. You are no Helen. You are Aphrodite incarnate, come to see the siege. And I am Ares. Tonight I will assault the city again. Will you come and watch?’

‘Nothing would give me more pleasure,’ she said. ‘And perhaps you would like to use some of my men in this assault?’

Stratokles winced.

‘Ah,’ Demetrios nodded. ‘The sport is always sweeter when you have a team on the field, is it not?’