King of the Bosphorus

19

Satyrus lay that night in the house that had been Kinon's, and the old slave – Servilius – served him a superior breakfast of lentils cooked in wine and jugged hare. Then he sent another slave to his ship, to bring his men ashore.

He was still wiping the hare out of his moustache when the old slave came back to his elbow. 'Your man,' he said. Helios was there, dripping wet and nearly blue with cold.

'You swam ashore,' Satyrus said. He shook his head. 'If you die, I freed you for nothing.' He turned to the house slave. 'Servilius, can you get him warm?'

The older man nodded. 'Freed you, eh?' he said. 'Lucky man.' His tone suggested that if he were freed, he wouldn't squander his freedom by jumping into the water and swimming a stade to shore for his master. He managed this in one tilt of the head and a flat tone that no master could have found rebellious. 'And there's a visitor,' he tossed over his shoulder, as he led Helios away into the house.

'Clearly Dionysius took all the good slaves,' Satyrus muttered, walking out into the courtyard. The last time he'd been here, it had been covered in blood – dead slaves who had been his friends, and dead men who'd tried to kill him. The day he found out why men thought Philokles the Spartan was the avatar of Ares on earth.

At the gate he found a Persian mounted on a tall horse. He looked up at the man – who wore a long Persian coat against the cold, and was on one of the most beautiful horses he'd ever seen. 'Yes?' he asked.

The Persian slipped down from his charger's back like a Sakje. He was handsome, even by Persian standards, and his smile filled his face. 'No need to tell me your name, son of Kineas,' he said.

'You have the advantage of me,' Satyrus answered. Then it struck him that this must be Diodorus's messenger. 'Do I know you?' he asked.

'I hope that you've heard my name once or twice,' the Persian said. 'I was your father's friend.'

'You are Darius?' Satyrus said. 'Leon speaks of you often!'

Darius embraced him. He wore scent, like most Persians, and his coat was made of a wool so soft that it was like rabbit fur. 'It is about Leon I have come,' he said. Satyrus sat on a couch while Darius prowled the room, looking at the furnishings and cursing the worthlessness of slaves. 'Mine are no better.' Darius laughed. 'The moment I'm away from my home, nothing is done. The horses don't even foal when I leave.'

'You've been serving with Diodorus?' Satyrus asked.

Darius nodded. 'All summer. No great battles, Son of Kineas, but a great deal of scouting, patrolling and some routing out of bandits. We earned our keep. Babylon is secure, and now Seleucus is laying siege to one of Demetrios's forts in Syria. Diodorus finished his contract and left with Seleucus's full permission. Indeed, I believe our troops will be fed as far as Phrygia.'

'Where Antigonus is lord,' Satyrus smiled.

'Exactly. Where our troops may pillage as they please.' Darius was a Persian lord – he had no care for the sufferings of Phrygian peasants. 'He should be here in twenty days. If the weather holds as well as it has, perhaps half that. I have already waited three weeks here for you, and we set out together.'

Satyrus poured more wine. 'Sorry to keep you waiting,' he said.

Darius shook his head. 'No – nothing to be concerned at. I am here to try a rescue of Leon. It is my – hmm – my speciality? To go unseen where other men do not go.'

Satyrus smiled at the richly dressed nobleman before him. 'Lord Darius, I can't imagine that you would go unnoticed anywhere.'

Darius laughed. 'You see what I want you to see, son of Kineas. But thank you for your flattery. I think.' He shook his head. 'No more wine for me. I gather that you were present when Philokles died?'

Satyrus told him the story. By the end, he had tears in his eyes and the Persian cried. 'He was the bravest of men,' Darius said. 'I honour him. Crax and Diodorus said to ask you of his end. Now – I do not want you to tell me anything of your plans. I may be taken. But I will ask this – where shall I meet you, if I recover Leon?'

Satyrus was pleased by the sheer confidence of the man. 'I mean to strike for Olbia,' he said.

'You know your sister is loose in the high ground north of Tanais,' Darius said.

'She moves fast,' Satyrus said. 'But sooner or later, we must fight for Olbia and Pantecapaeum.'

Darius shook his head. 'Eumenes – our Eumenes, the Olbian – he will have Olbia for you whenever you want it,' he said. 'He left us in the autumn to be archon.'

Satyrus had heard as much in Alexandria. 'So?'

'So – there's little need for you to go to Olbia. And if you were to appear off Pantecapaeum in, say, ten days?'

'Fifteen,' Satyrus said. 'I can't be ready before that. And I need marines from Diodorus.'

Darius nodded. 'So, say twenty-five days. I will be ready and then some.'

Satyrus raised an eyebrow. 'You are that confident?' he asked.

Darius had a curious facial tic – he could frown and smile at the same time, like a man who smelled something bad. 'I would never offend the gods with such a phrase,' he said. 'But I will say that Pantecapaeum, like all the Euxine cities, has a glut of Persian slaves. And I would assume that you would free any man that I said had aided me – true?'

'Of course,' Satyrus said.

Darius shrugged. 'Then the thing is as good as done. If you will appear off Pantecapaeum in twenty-five days from tomorrow, I will undertake to bring your uncle – my sworn brother – out to your fleet by late afternoon.'

'But…' Satyrus shook his head. 'I want to know how.'

Darius got to his feet. 'We'll see.' He shrugged. 'To be honest, I don't know myself.' It was four days before his fleet arrived, and Darius had already slipped away on an Olbia-bound freighter carrying copper from Cyprus and empty earthenware amphorae for the grain trade. Satyrus had seen him go – a nondescript figure, like a prosperous slave factor or a lower-class Asian merchant. His confidence in the man increased.

It was the next day that Bias reported forty sail in the roadstead, and by dark he had sixty-eight warships filling the harbour. Bias was ready, and he stationed the Rhodians and the Alexandrians at one end of the mole, and put the pirates at the other end, separated by a powerful squadron of Heraklean ships. Every one of Nestor's men was in the streets, and the first sign of pirate trouble was ruthlessly crushed, a message that was understood in every squadron.

In the morning, Satyrus met with all the captains in a warehouse – the only building that was big enough to keep them all out of the wind. There was no hearth, and the icy air got in through loose boards.

'My army will be here in ten days,' Satyrus said. 'And our presence here won't be a secret long. Demostrate – would you care to close the Bosporus to our enemy?'

'Poseidon's prick, lad. We had it closed from Byzantium!' the old pirate said.

'Rumour is that Eumeles has got a shipment of mercenaries and money coming from Athens,' Satyrus said.

'Now that's worth knowing,' Demostrate allowed. 'We'll find 'em.'

'Abraham, I'd like you to take our ships and Lysimachos's and visit the towns on the western shore – starting with Tomis. A day each – clear out any interlopers and do our part by our ally.'

Abraham might have wanted to sail with the pirates, but he didn't show it. 'At your service, Navarch,' he said.

Panther of Rhodos waited until the command conference was over. There was shouting and dickering and the pirates had to make a special treaty about the expected plunder from Athens before one of the captains would sail. Panther watched them with contempt. 'You kept us here,' he said.

'Your men won't make trouble in Heraklea,' Satyrus said.

Panther frowned. 'My men get bored just as quickly as a pirate crew,' he said.

'Ten days,' Satyrus returned. Twelve days after Darius left, and no sign of Diodorus, even from the Heraklean scouts at the mountain passes. Abraham's squadrons returned in high sprits. They'd met a pair of Pantecapaean triremes and taken them in a very one-sided fight off Tomis.

'Calchus sends his regards,' Abraham said. 'I don't think he knew what to do with me, but he was courteous enough, once I said I was from Lysimachos. And he dotes on Theron.'

Theron smiled. 'I believe that I will retire to Tomis,' he said. 'I like it.'

They were still enjoying the triumph of clearing the west coast when Bias sent a slave to announce that Coenus had arrived. Satyrus had seldom spent a more uncomfortable half-hour than that one, waiting for news of his sister.

Coenus and Nihmu came in like lost relatives, escorted from the port by his friend Dionysius. Nihmu looked drained – her skin was grey and her hair lank. Coenus, on the other hand, looked like a man who had shed ten years of age. He fairly shone with health in the late-afternoon sun.

'Satyrus,' he said, taking his hands. 'Your sister sends her love.'

'She is well!' Satyrus said. He realized that he had been holding some part of his breath for an hour.

'She will not hold back from war. She has had some hard times. But she is well, and she misses you. And she has made herself queen of the Assagatje.'

'Marthax?'

'Dead at her hand.' Coenus shrugged. 'To tell it thus is to make him seem a blackguard. Marthax died like a king, and the manner of his death made sure she would be queen.'

Satyrus turned to his captains. He caught Neiron's eye, and Diokles'. 'No more archers on Eumeles' ships,' he said. Then, to his aunt and uncle, he said, 'Where is she now?'

Coenus shook his head. 'No idea. Listen – I see you have a fleet. Let me tell my news as quickly as I may.' He explained rapidly, and then explained again when Neiron provided a hastily drawn chart of the Euxine.

'When I left, Eumeles' general, Nikephoros, was in the Bay of Salmon. He was afraid you'd trap him there and end the war.'

'Poseidon's cock,' Diokles muttered, and many of the other captains, Rhodian, Greek and Alexandrian, muttered too.

'If Diodorus had been on time,' Satyrus said, 'the war would be over.'

Coenus laughed. 'Sometimes your age shows, lad. War is all luck. There's no use in whining about luck you didn't have. Stick with the luck you do have. Tyche has given you a fleet and your sister an army.'

'We need Diodorus,' Satyrus insisted. 'We need his men as marines. We can't face Eumeles' fleet without an edge.'

Coenus looked around. He knew most of Leon's captains, and his eyes settled on Aekes. 'And you, farmer? Do you need Diodorus's men?'

Aekes shrugged. 'Not for myself. But Satyrus has allies. We must wait for them. And they have no marines.'

'Pirates,' Panther spat.

Coenus looked around and laughed. 'You mean you have more ships?' Two days of feverish planning and Demostrate sailed in with most of his ships. He was in a foul mood when he came ashore.

'I lost a pair of ships to one of Eumeles' hundred-handed spawn – gods, it was Dios's own fault, caught like a lubber in the fog. Where did Eumeles get these captains?' The old man drank off a cup of neat wine and threw it against the wall, where it smashed. 'But the worst of it is that the Athenian squadron got past us. Ten triremes and four troop ships, and all the cash.'

Satyrus felt the prickle of disaster – and suspicion. 'You had thirty ships!' he said, and regretted the words.

'Oh, if only you'd been there yourself, I'm sure you'd have done better!' Demostrate said. He stormed out of the door.

Coenus slipped away after him and brought him back. Demostrate's bad temper seemed dispelled by the Megaran, and they embraced warmly. Then the pirate admiral apologized.

'I'm a fool when angry, and no mistake,' he said. 'Coenus says your sister is up on the Tanais with an army,' he went on.

Satyrus nodded.

Demostrate looked around. 'Then we've got Eumeles,' he said.

Satyrus shook his head. 'We need Diodorus,' he said.

'Your sister is waiting for you,' Coenus reminded him.

Satyrus looked around. They were all there – his own captains, and Demostrate, and all the Rhodian officers. Nestor stood alone, representing Heraklea. Satyrus rose to his feet and they grew quiet.

'My sister isn't waiting,' he said. 'She has an army and she's on the move, skirmishing with the Sauromatae who are just as much my enemies as Eumeles and his ships. She can't wait for me. Her fort at the Tanais may be besieged by Eumeles at any time, for all that she left it provisioned and garrisoned.' He looked around. 'If we strike now, we show Eumeles our strength and he no longer has to guess. Without Diodorus, we are weak. Weaker than Eumeles. And if we lose at sea, we're finished – the whole war comes apart like scale armour when the cord breaks. Right?'

Even Coenus nodded.

'We wait,' Satyrus said. Seventeen days after Darius sailed away, and a Rhodian officer killed one of Manes' oarsmen in a brawl on the waterfront. Manes led his men on a riot of destruction, killing a local man and two Rhodians and burning a warehouse.

Satyrus summoned the officers, but of the pirates, only Demostrate came.

Telereus, Lysimachos's navarch, began by suggesting that he'd had enough. 'This sitting in port accomplishes nothing,' he said. 'I will go to Tomis, and watch the coast.'

Panther shook his head. 'Any day now, if Satyrus is to be believed, we'll get our marines – and then we're off to find Eumeles.'

'This mercenary might never come. He could be forty days away. How long do we wait?' Telereus asked.

Satyrus held his temper. 'I ask you to wait five more days,' he said. 'In the meantime, I need your crews and my crews to share the duty of patrolling the wharves, and I'd like the navarchs to work out districts of the waterfront, so that I can confine the Rhodians and the pirates to their own neighbourhoods. Panther, I must inform you that Nestor, the tyrant's right hand, says that he must take your helmsman into custody.'

Panther shook his head. 'No,' he said. 'No man of mine goes to the axe for killing a pirate.'

'Let me be clear,' Satyrus said. 'You gave orders that this sort of thing be avoided. This man disobeyed you, and now you treat him as a hero?'

Panther pointed at Diokles. 'If Diokles there had done it, would you hand him over to this Nestor?'

Satyrus nodded. 'Yes,' he said.

'Not a helmsman,' Diokles offered. 'Lead oar, port side, on the Lord of the Silver Bow. And the other fool drew first.' He shrugged. 'And Manes killed two of theirs. He's the bugger that needs killing.'

Nestor pushed forward. Even among hard men like these, his size imposed. 'That is for me to decide,' he said. 'You are allies here, not conquerors. If your man is not given up, you are no longer welcome here.' Nestor didn't bluff, and he was looking at Satyrus. Satyrus knew that the killing was merely the last straw, after a week of theft, some armed robbery and scuffles in every market.

Satyrus spread his arms. 'Must I beg you, Panther? All my hopes come down to this. I sent them to sea to prevent this – but I cannot make Diodorus arrive on time. I know that your men and the pirates are oil and water. Help me here. I will offer private surety…' He looked at Nestor to gauge his reaction. 'That the man will not be found guilty.'

Nestor offered the smallest fraction of a nod.

'Your word?' Panther asked.

And Satyrus knew he had kept the Rhodians. For a day or two. He turned to the pirate king. 'And you?'

Demostrate shrugged. 'Manes is his own law,' he said. 'He's worse every day. He wants to kill me – he certainly doesn't take my orders.'

And he commands five ships – ships that I need, Satyrus thought.

In private, he asked Nestor to ignore Manes. He sent his own marines to watch Manes, but the monster seemed glutted with his latest rampage, and sat in his ships. Satyrus paid restitution to the merchant whose warehouse burned and tried to think of a way to make this all better.

He tried to get the whole fleet to practise rowing, to practise the complex battle tactics that professional captains and crews used to win battles. The Rhodians were at sea every day, rowing up and down, and his own ships emulated them. But Demostrate laughed. 'We don't need any schoolbook tactics,' he said, and walked away, leaving Satyrus fuming.

According to rumour, Manes had farted when told of the orders.

Satyrus planned to dine that night with his own captains. He felt besieged – Amastris would not meet with him, and Dionysius the tyrant was daily less receptive to him as Diodorus failed to appear. Without marines, he had little chance of striking a firm blow, as his ships were outnumbered. Panther was too angry to be supportive, and Demostrate wouldn't meet his eyes. His fleet was divided and untrained. He wondered what Eumeles' fleet was doing. Drilling, no doubt.

Satyrus was in his room at what had been Kinon's, brooding, when there was a knock.

'Lord Satyrus?' Helios came in. 'Visitors, my lord.'

Out in the main room, Satyrus could hear the tone change – men were speaking happily.

He heard a man's voice, and then a woman's, and then he was there, embracing Crax and then Nihmu.

'By the gods!' he said.

In two hours he had the situation in his head, and when he was done drawing maps on the floor, he turned to them. Diokles and Abraham were on the floor with him, following the new campaign, and Theron lay above them on his couch. The other captains and some of his ship's officers ringed them.

'We'll have our marines in two days,' he said.

Coenus shook his head. 'Well done, Nihmu,' he said.

'I can still ride,' she said. 'Even if other things have left me.' She turned to Satyrus. 'As soon as we landed and Coenus told me, I rode for the hills. I took six horses and I rode them hard.' She motioned to Crax.

Crax gave his golden laugh. 'We've had the very Furies dogging us, Satyrus,' he said. 'Phrygia is full of soldiers. Half serve Demetrios and the other half are masterless men. Either way, they prey on each other.' He shrugged. 'There's no food and no maintenance for the roads. The peasants are gone or dead. The weather has been – brutal.' He looked around, acknowledging men he knew with a wave or a wink. 'But Lord Diodorus is over the mountains at Bithynia.'

'But Eumeles has his reinforcements and his money,' Satyrus said. 'We've missed one opportunity, or possibly two. I need to strike quickly.'

'Pshaw, lad,' Crax said. Then he smiled. 'You are no lad. Listen then. Diodorus is coming. And from what Coenus says, your sister is fine. She's every bit the soldier you are. She'll keep ten days – maybe more.'

'Darius won't keep,' Satyrus said. 'He expects me in seven days. I can't see being there.'

Nihmu raised her head. 'I can be there in seven days,' she said. 'One barbarian woman – no one will notice me.'

Satyrus turned. 'How will you find Darius?' he asked.

Nihmu laughed. 'We are Pythagoreans,' she said. 'Even a barbarian like me. Trust me, Satyrus – I will find him.'

Satyrus sighed.

'I'll go back,' Coenus said, 'and find Melitta.' He glanced at Nihmu, and a long look passed between them. 'But first I'll have a word with Demostrate.'

That night, Satyrus dreamed that he was juggling eggs. One after another he dropped them – each containing a tiny man who died as his egg splattered on the cobbles of the street. At first the men were faceless, but then he watched Demostrate die, gasping for air like a fish, and Nihmu, her body broken. He woke to silence and lay awake for an hour, and then another. Eventually he rose and walked to the yard, where Coenus was putting his bed roll on a horse. He had another pair behind him. Satyrus recognized Darius's magnificent Nisaean charger.

'That's Darius's horse!' Satyrus said without thinking.

Coenus smiled. 'Darius is my brother,' Coenus said, 'as Leon is. As Philokles was and Diodorus. Surely you know that.'

Satyrus had never thought about it. In a heartbeat, he understood better what had been before his eyes all his life. 'You really do share,' he said.

Coenus ruffled his hair. 'Wish me luck,' he said. He vaulted into the saddle. 'Getting too old for this. Listen – my last military advice. Take your time. Force Eumeles to a battle on the sea if you can. But remember – it is the sight of your fleet that will aid your sister and crush Eumeles. Your sister will be pinched hard for the lack of you. Understand me? I'll go hard. If she's on the Hypanis, I'll find her in ten days – perhaps less.'

Satyrus nodded. 'I understand. And I know how you hate to give advice.'

'Bah, your sister's got me into the habit.' He used his knees to turn the Nisaean and made for the gate. 'Athena guide your guile, Satyrus.'

'And Hermes your travels,' Satyrus said. But the dream was still with him. And he shivered.

And in the morning, Nihmu was gone as well.

*

Twenty-three days after Darius sailed away, Diodorus's advance guard marched into Heraklea. Satyrus rode out to meet them, and he almost wept to see the men of his childhood – Sitalkes and the giant Carlus, the Keltoi, a handful of Olbians and dozens of men he knew by sight if not by name. Diodorus himself led the column in a plain breastplate, his copper and grey beard moving with his horse.

'You look like a king,' Diodorus said. He reached out and clasped Satyrus's arm. 'Sorry to be late, lad,' he added.

To Satyrus, his soldier uncle, the one who had always seemed the most vital, the most powerful, now seemed a husk of himself. He seemed smaller. He hunched his shoulders.

'Will of the gods,' Satyrus said. 'How much rest do your men need?'

Diodorus took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. 'The horses need a week of food and pasture. It's still winter in the hills. The infantrymen – they could march right up the gangplanks. Crax says you need our Macedonians for marines.' He waved at the infantry trudging along. They were four files wide on the road, two files of shield-bearers between two files of spearmen. The two officers at the head of the column looked familiar.

Satyrus touched his heels to his mount and trotted over to the road. 'Amyntas! Draco!' he called, and the two mercenaries grinned at him.

'Thought you'd forgotten us,' Draco said.

'Although it didn't seem all that likely,' Amyntas said.

Satyrus slipped down and clasped their hands. 'I need your taxeis,' he said. 'I need them as soon as I can get them afloat. How much rest do you need?'

Amyntas stared at the sky and Draco laughed. 'I'd like to have a cup of wine and a fuck,' he said.

'He's old,' Amyntas said, as the soldiers behind Draco shouted their agreement. 'All I need is the fuck.'

'I'll take that as meaning you can sail tomorrow,' Satyrus said. He felt the weight of the world lifting away, to be replaced by a new feeling in his stomach.

He carried that feeling up the hill to the palace, where suddenly he was again welcome. Dionysius the tyrant received him like a peer, and he sat through a dinner on a couch at the man's right hand.

The tyrant mocked his former soldiers. Draco and Amyntas had left Heraklea years before as escorts and had never returned. Macedonian soldiers were too valuable to be allowed to wander about. 'Deserters!' he roared, and laughed to watch them flinch.

Satyrus watched Amastris. She looked everywhere but into his eyes until the meal was mostly gone, and then her gaze skipped over his – her eyes drew his to her maid-slave, who handed something to Helios.

She was a fine actress, his Amastris. She acted her indifference to him so well that he was coming to believe it, except for these notes.

'You'll sail tomorrow?' Dionysius asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

'With the favour of the gods,' Satyrus said piously.

'I'd swear you asked me for twenty days,' Dionysius said. 'And now you've been here twenty-five. You owe me, boy.'

Satyrus nodded. 'I do owe you, my lord,' he said. 'On the other hand, I have not stormed your city to pay my bills,' he added.

Dionysius laughed. 'Did I teach you to speak so?' he asked.

'Yes,' Satyrus said. He swayed when he walked away from the symposium that followed the dinner, and Helios put a hand under his arm and helped him walk.

'What's Amastris say?' Satyrus asked. His head was swaying as if his ship was moving under his feet.

Helios stopped, propped him against an alley wall and reached in his script for a piece of papyrus. 'She asks if you intend to sail away without tasting her,' he said, his voice deadpan.

'Tasting?' Satyrus asked. 'Aphrodite – how does she expect me to get to her?'

Helios shook his head and held out the note. 'You read, lord,' he said.

Satyrus walked along the buildings until he came to a prosperous shop with a torch in a cresset. 'Aphrodite's long and golden back,' he muttered. Do you truly intend to taste salt water before you taste me? it said.

Helios stood still.

Alcohol swirled in Satyrus's head. 'I needed to see this before I drank so much,' he said. He looked up at the citadel above them, and he saw that a lamp burned on one of the balconies that hung over the sea. And that the rooms beyond the balcony were lit. He shook his head and there was anger at the bottom of his love. 'She treats me unfairly,' he said.

Helios nodded agreement.

'To Hades with her,' Satyrus said. He began to walk down the road, towards the house that had been Kinon's, and bed. Then he stopped and looked back. 'I love her, Helios,' he said.

'Yes, sir,' Helios agreed.

'What would you do?' Satyrus asked.

Helios shrugged.

'What if I command you to speak?' Satyrus said. He was mocking the boy. Picking on a freedman because he couldn't allow himself to be angry at his love.

'Then I will speak,' Helios said. His tone of voice suggested that he had something to say. 'Do you command me?'

'I command you,' Satyrus said, responding to the challenge in the boy's tone.

'Then I say that she demands you to visit to prove her power, not because her body wants yours. And I say that if you were caught, the tyrant would have you taken or killed. And that you are not a citizen of Alexandria, the city of love, but a king who goes to win his kingdom.' Helios shrugged. 'And if you need to lie in a woman's arms tonight, I can find you one who will not steal your kingdom.'

Satyrus stumbled. 'You don't like her!' he said.

Helios shrugged again. 'I am less than the sandals on her feet,' he said. 'My likes or dislikes are nothing to her.'

Satyrus looked up, and saw the light on the balcony. There was someone moving there, too.

'The fleet sails at dawn,' Helios said. 'You ordered it.'

Satyrus nodded. He turned away from the palace. 'To bed,' he said. Dawn, and a warm breeze off the land carried the hint of rain. Diodorus, Crax and Sitalkes stood on the beach with a dozen other officers, telling off files of pikemen on to the pirate vessels and any other ship short of a full load of marines. The Rhodians were already in the water, and behind them, Satyrus's own ships were just getting their sterns off the beach.

Horse transports were loading the cavalry chargers – thin mounts who would die if too long at sea, and would need grain and rest when they landed. Satyrus was staking it all on this throw. He was out of time. He stood on the helmsman's bench of the Golden Lotus and looked aft. 'Good to have you aboard,' he said to Draco, who stood just behind him.

Draco laughed. 'Amyntas will be jealous that I have you all to myself,' he said.

'Theron needs him more than I do,' Satyrus said.

Stesagoras came up. 'Where do you see me stowing all these marines?' he asked. He was speaking to Neiron as helmsman and trierarch, but he pitched his complaint to carry to Satyrus.

Satyrus watched the panorama of his fleet forming for another few heartbeats and stepped back off the bench.

'Put the extra marines aft, with the helm,' he said. Twenty marines to a ship was too many for fine fighting, but it would give them a decisive advantage in a boarding fight.

'We'll be low in the water,' Neiron said quietly.

'Poseidon has sent us a fine breeze and a beautiful day,' Satyrus answered. His eyes found Helios, standing by with a gilt-bronze shield.

'Give the signal!' he called.

Helios found the sun with the surface of the shield – a flash that could be seen for stades – and gave three long flashes.

Sixty-six warships. At least twenty fewer than his enemy had. And his decks were crammed with marines, which meant that he could not afford to be caught in a hit-and-run battle of seamanship.

Neiron had the helm. Up forward, Philaeus began to call the stroke.

'I'm impressed,' Draco said.

'You'd be more impressed if you were with Eumeles,' Satyrus said.

Draco grunted. 'No, lad. I'm impressed with you. But I'll bite – how many ships does he have?'

Neiron didn't take his eyes off the bow. 'Eighty-five. And perhaps more if the Athenian ships serve with him.'

Draco nodded. 'Aye, that's what the lads are saying.'

Satyrus was always impressed with the accuracy of soldiers' gossip. 'And what do they say our chances are?' he asked.

Draco laughed. 'Oh, the odds don't make no never mind, lad. Everyone knows you're Tyche's darling. Fortune's favourite, eh? Luck's better than numbers any day.'

Satyrus's stomach told a different tale. 'Luck can slip away,' he said.

Draco nodded, pursing his lips in approval. 'Aye. That it can, and no mistake.' He smiled. 'But anyone can see you still have yours.'

Satyrus had to admit that it was hard to remain worried when you could watch the four solid columns of triremes form up and sail away on a favourable breeze with stripped merchantmen as horse transports in between the columns.

Draco watched the coast and the citadel of Heraklea. 'But I'd swear we're going east,' he said.

'You may make a sailor yet.' Neiron grinned.

'Pantecapaeum is north!' Draco said.

'Too much of a risk. More than a thousand stades. With a wind like this, we might make it in a day – but more likely we'd spend the night at sea.' Neiron was the navarch's helmsman. He'd made the course.

Draco shrugged. 'So? We spend a night at sea.'

Satyrus cut in, 'Draco, a night at sea is no laughing matter. First, storms come up on the Euxine without any warning. A storm almost killed my father when he first came here, and we could get our fleet scattered in an hour – could lose half our ships. We only need to lose about ten and we've lost.'

Neiron nodded. 'Aye – and we can't cook at sea.'

Draco grinned. 'Of course. I'm a fool.'

'Most Macedonians are,' Neiron said, but his smile took the sting out. 'Tonight we'll be on the beach at Sinope. That's the end of any surprise we ever had – and the dog among the chickens, too. I'll wager a gold daric against a silver owl that every merchant in the port runs when they see us coming.'

Draco shrugged. 'So?'

Satyrus cut in again. 'Until we land at Sinope, we're fairly secret. Heraklea and Pantecapaeum aren't exactly friends. We don't think Eumeles knows how many ships we have, or their power.' He rolled his hand back and forth. 'Once we touch at Sinope, everyone knows what we have and we have to go for the jugular.'

'Sinope to the entrance to the Bay of Salmon is eight hundred stades,' Neiron said. 'One good day's sail. If the weather holds – we'll land by the Bay of Salmon, rest the night, and eat.'

'And the day after tomorrow, we'll row up towards Pantecapaeum with full bellies,' Satyrus said. His hands shook just saying the words.

Draco looked back and forth between them. 'Two days?' he asked.

'At the soonest,' Satyrus said.

Draco sat down on the helmsman's bench and started to unbuckle his thorax. 'I'll just catch a nap, then,' he said. The sun was still high in the sky when they raised Sinope. Satyrus watched the sea-marks come up and then he turned to Helios. 'Get the shield,' he said.

Neiron was stretching his right leg. He'd wrestled two falls with Draco and done better than Satyrus had expected, and now the two men were talking while they stretched in the late-afternoon light. 'What do you have in mind, Navarch?' he called.

Satyrus walked to Stesagoras, who had the helm. 'I'm going to order battle formation,' he said.

Stesagoras nodded. 'Philaeus!' he called. 'Look alive! Get your brutes in their harness.'

There was the thunder of bare feet on smooth wood as the oarsmen, who had been enjoying a day of relative peace, sailing calmly along the south coast of the Euxine, were ordered to their stations.

'Signal "Man your benches".' Satyrus waved at Diokles, who had Black Falcon just astern.

Helios got up on the stern bench and took the cover off his shield. He flashed it.

Satyrus clambered up next to him. 'Gods, we need work,' he said. 'Send it again.'

Three more repetitions got the benches manned, although Satyrus assumed that most of the pirates had accomplished this by emulating the ships closest to them rather than by reading the signals. In addition, it became clear that some of the pirates were well out of formation.

Panther sent a long signal. The whole signals system was Rhodian, and Satyrus had enough trouble understanding a long signal to pity the captains who'd never seen such a thing.

Helios had no such issues. '"Better than I expected,"' he translated. 'Letter for letter,' he added.

'Signal "Form Bull",' Satyrus said, and Helios flashed the order.

It was just as well that Eumeles' fleet was not waiting in ambush off the coast of Sinope. The sun was well down in the west and it seemed possible that the rowers were going to miss their meals when Satyrus gave up, cancelled the order to form the Bull and sent the ships into the beach. Every merchant ship had long since fled, many of them heading north.

'The dog is among the chickens,' Neiron said when they had a fire lit and food in their bellies. 'The eagles have flown at the pigeons. Chaos is come again.' He laughed. 'That was the worst manoeuvre I've ever seen.'

'Wasn't totally wasted,' Satyrus said.

'How so, lord?' asked Panther, who had come up with his captains.

'None of the pirates chased the merchant ships,' Satyrus said.

Panther looked at him with new respect. 'Navarch, you have a point. What's for tomorrow?'

Satyrus raised his hand to forestall Neiron. 'Along the coast east, under oars,' he said.

Neiron shook his head. 'The weather's perfect,' he said. 'We can be off Pantecapaeum in two days.'

Demostrate was there, too. 'Yes, but should we? I'm with you, lad. Let's row along the coast and get the lard off their backs.'

Satyrus smiled. 'Next one of you who calls me lad will have the privilege of a little pankration, man to man.' He made himself grin. 'That display out there was so pitiful that I have to expect that Eumeles will hear about it in roughly twelve hours and make his adjustments accordingly.' He walked a few steps and turned. 'The playing-off of pirates and Rhodians is over now. You are all my captains, and I expect you to spend the next week learning the signal book and the tactics we'll use when we find Eumeles at sea.'

Demostrate shook his head. 'That's not for my boys, lad-' He stopped.

Satyrus walked over. 'Strip,' he said.

Demostrate narrowed his eyes. 'If I sail away, you have no fleet,' he said.

'I have no fleet anyway,' Satyrus said. 'Your precious pirates proved it just now, when they couldn't form a line of battle. Strip.'

Demostrate shook his head. 'I'll apologize,' he said softly. 'But if you make me fight, you'll have to kill me. Lord.'

Satyrus nodded curtly. 'Apologize then.'

Demostrate nodded. 'I apologize, lord,' he said. 'I'll not slip again.'

'Fuck him,' Manes said. 'Fuck him and fuck all this pansy shit. I say we kill the Rhodians and sack Sinope and stop playing at kings.'

Satyrus had been so busy plotting the rise of his kingship that he had all but forgotten Manes.

A foolish mistake. The sort of mistake that could cost you your kingdom.

Time to correct that right now. He took a deep breath, crossed the circle of officers as fast as the ripple of comments spread and stood in front of Manes.

'Get a sword and a shield. We fight. Now. And when you are dead, I claim all your ships and men as mine.' Satyrus was so angry he had no trouble meeting the bestial glare. 'You heard me – or are you the same chicken-shit who ducked fighting me in Byzantium?'

Manes bellowed.

Satyrus turned his back and walked towards Helios – watching his squire for a sign. Helios gave him his aspis and his sword. Satyrus fitted the shield snugly on his arm, gripped the antilabe in his left hand and drew his father's long kopis so that the blue blade glittered in the last sunlight. Then he turned.

'Ready?' he asked and began walking across the now silent circle of officers towards Manes.

Manes turned to Ganymede, who handed him his shield. His sword was immense – longer and broader than a Keltoi cavalry sword.

Crax stepped in front of Satyrus, with Carlus at his shoulder. 'Let one of us do this,' he said. 'Carlus could put him down in a heartbeat.'

Satyrus shook his head. 'This is for me, friend. I need the pirates to fight. I need them to drill and cooperate. When I kill him,' he pointed the tip of the kopis at Manes, 'they're mine.'

'And if you die?' Crax asked quietly.

'Then kill him, take the fleet and make Melitta queen of the Bosporus.'

Crax shook his head and stepped back.

Manes stepped out from the circle.

Satyrus lowered his shield and charged him.

Around him, he heard the crowd roar, but then all he heard was his own footsteps on the sand. Manes stood rooted to the spot for too long, clearly unable to believe that a smaller man was charging him.

Satyrus didn't hesitate. He ran right in and slammed his aspis against the face of Manes' shield even as the man bellowed like a bull, hoping to frighten him. Then Satyrus rolled to the right, using the centre of his shield against the rim of Manes' shield. He cut under with the kopis, and the long blade scored immediately on Manes' leg.

Satyrus stepped back, so that Manes' counter-blow swished through the air without even cutting his shield.

Satyrus saw that he'd cut the pirate chief deeply. He wanted to let him bleed and he backed a step. Manes took this for weakness, leaped forward and struck fast, landing two more blows on his shield. They were powerful blows that took chunks from the face of Satyrus's shield and hurt his arm, and Satyrus realized with a sudden prickle of fear that his arm couldn't take many more like that. He retreated and Manes advanced, bellowing, striking out again with the great sword like the claw of a giant lobster – Slam! Slam! – into the face of his shield, no effort at swordsmanship at all, just simple, overwhelming strength.

Satyrus struggled with his own fear of the man – a fear now reinforced by feeling his physical power.

He had to stop retreating.

Manes stumbled, a reminder that he, too, was hurt – that Satyrus had cut his leg. Satyrus shook his head and the giant blade slammed into the face of his shield again – Bam! Bam! – and he felt a scream of pain that shot up his arm and through his body, and he went forward into the pain, his arm barely able to support the shield slammed into Manes' chest. Satyrus was a hand's breadth shorter than the pirate, and his shield rush was a puny thing, except that his sword arm shot out in a long overhand cut – past Manes' blade raised in desperate parry – then rolled and snapped, so that the blade of the Aegyptian sword cut back into the base of Manes' skull. It was a perfect cut, and the unsharpened back edge of the kopis smashed into the heavy muscles at the base of the pirate's neck and his left arm dropped nerveless, his shield falling off his arm.

Manes roared with pain and stumbled back.

Satyrus had moments – only moments – before the tide of pain from his arm killed his ability to fight. He changed feet, lunging forward with his right leg and cutting down, so that his blade severed Manes' right hand at the wrist.

'ArrGGH!' the beast screamed, and suddenly they were down on the sand together, and Manes' blood was everywhere, and the man was kicking, hammering his mangled right arm and his uninjured left at Satyrus – his own wounded arm as loud in his head as the pirate's rage, even as his helmeted head was snapped back by a blow from the blunt end of Manes' maimed limb and his helmet filled with Manes' blood.

Satyrus had not fought pankration for eight years without learning to channel pain – and to grapple, even injured, even covered in blood and badly hurt. He dropped his sword, got his thighs locked on the other man's waist and rose over him, even as that right arm clubbed him again – but his helmet held the blow and he was on Manes like a rider on an unbroken stallion. Even a flailing blow into his arm didn't end his bid – his body was running through the winning moves of a domination hold without him, and he seemed to be watching from a distance as his thighs clamped the bleeding pirate's body, pinning him so that he could do less harm. Then Satyrus's swordless right hand slammed down, breaking his adversary's nose and slamming the broken bone into his head – and still Manes fought him, his spasming arms somehow inflicting pain.

Then Satyrus felt Philokles, the Spartan, take control of his hand in the forbidden strikes that the Spartans taught and that were forbidden in the games. His strong right hand reversed and he drove his thumb into Manes' left eye, the soft matter exploding outward.

Satyrus never quite lost consciousness. He rose shakily, with no sense of how much time might have passed since Manes' body ceased moving. His shield slipped off his right arm, which was bent at a bad angle, and rang as it hit a stone.

Theron was there. He put a hand on Satyrus's shoulder.

'I killed him three times,' Satyrus breathed.

Theron didn't answer. In a quick motion, he wrenched the arm – putting it back in its socket – and Satyrus was gone. When he came to, he was on the sand.

'He's still dead,' Theron said, following Satyrus's eyes.

'Zeus Soter,' Satyrus said. 'I'll never fear a man that much again. I killed him three times.'

'Your men were watching,' Theron said. 'That was a fight they will long remember.'

'Get me up,' Satyrus said. 'And – get Manes' head.'

'His head?' Theron asked.

'I'll do it,' Abraham said. 'By all that is holy, sir, that was the most – amazing – fight.' His voice was hoarse.

Sir. Abraham called me sir. Satyrus wanted to laugh, but lacked the ability. 'Get me up,' he said.

He heard the meaty sound as Abraham's sword bit into Manes' neck, and he had to watch – worried, at some animal level, that the man would yet rise up and fight him.

He did not.

Satyrus got to his feet. He picked up his father's sword and cleaned it on Manes' tunic, wiping carefully. Then he took Manes' head from Abraham and held it by the perfumed hair as he raised his eyes and looked around the circle.

'Tomorrow, everyone will drill at sea. Manes' ships are mine. See to it that their crews are dispersed among my squadron. All of his officers who care to swear faith to me may do so. The others may walk home.' He had no trouble keeping his voice steady, although he was talking too fast. He had done it. In his head, he thought, I wonder if I'll ever be afraid again?

The circle was silent.

Satyrus bowed to Demostrate. 'I apologize for my poor temper. Tomorrow, as we row, your men will drill.'

Demostrate smiled. 'Very well.'

Behind Satyrus, he heard the sound of dozens of swords and knives slipping back into sheaths.

'Listen!' he shouted. He looked around. The wind – the precious wind that blew straight for his target, that he was about to misuse – blew hard enough to make torches snap and hiss. He raised his voice. 'Listen! Eumeles has more ships, bigger ships, and he's had a winter to drill them. We have better marines and better captains – better men.'

That got a grumble of appreciation.

'Better men work harder. So we'll row for a few days to harden our muscles, and every officer can take his turn rowing. We'll practise the manoeuvres – we'll make the Bull, we'll form two lines, we'll practise diekplous until we can do it asleep. There won't be a second chance at this!' He wanted to yell at them, tell them what children they were, how they'd squandered their time at Heraklea instead of practising, listening to a fool like Manes when they could have a kingdom, but there was no point. None at all. 'Work now, and you'll find winning the battle easy. Easy means fewer dead. Or – squabble among yourselves, and die.'

He caught the eye of Manes' senior captain, standing behind Ganymede, who was weeping. The man flinched.

'Understand?' Satyrus asked. He looked around. He'd shocked them silent, and the silence had quite another quality. Satyrus dropped Manes' head in Ganymede's lap and dusted his hands together, the universal sign of a craftsman satisfied with his work. 'Excellent. We will row away at dawn. Watch for the shield.'

He turned and walked up the beach. Four days of rowing along the coast and they had begun to resemble a fleet. He rowed all day, regardless of the wind, and the men were too tired to quarrel in the evening. He practised the formations even as they travelled, so that they often made less than thirty stades an hour, sometimes as little as six or seven. They emptied his store ships, one after another, all the way up the coast.

The day of his appointed meeting off Pantecapaeum came and went. There was nothing he could do about it. Until his fleet was ready to fight, there was no point in trying – none at all. At first he felt like blaming his officers for not telling him how bad they all were – but then it came to him that it was his failure. He was in command. They trusted him. The pirates expected to win by numbers and courage and luck. The Rhodians, Satyrus guessed, had never expected to win at all. They were here to see that the pirates didn't survive.

He rowed through a day of south wind and rain, and another that was cold enough to count as winter. Five days saw them off Phasis, where the fleet formed the Bull to his satisfaction in a time that was not too humiliating. The Bull was his favourite formation, because it allowed his elite vessels to form on the flanks where they could actually manoeuvre, while his heavier units and all the pirates formed the loins in the centre, two deep, where their heavier crews and boarding tactics stood the best chance of success.

They sailed north for an hour in the battle formation. That did not go so well.

Satyrus sighed, and they landed for the night. Helios got men together from every ship and went over the signals again. Panther stood and declaimed about diekplous to a circle of pirate captains and Diokles gave prizes to rowers nominated by their captains – prizes of a gold daric each, twenty days' pay.

Satyrus roamed among the fires, eating garlic sausage and listening to the men. Most were quite happy. He shook his head. Into the darkness, to Herakles, or perhaps to the shade of his father, he said, 'I have so much to learn.'

The night was silent. Another day and they made Dioskurias, where he bought every head of cattle in the market and emptied the grain warehouses to feed his fleet – and laughed to hear that his sister was operating on the Hypanis River with an army. And Eumeles was at sea with his fleet, lying off Olbia.

An Olbian merchant told him that Eumeles had heard that the army of Olbia had marched, and had put all his troops on shipboard to seize the rival city while she was denuded of troops.

'Our Eumenes has marched on Pantecapaeum,' the man said. 'Eumeles is in for a rude awakening.'

'Two days,' Satyrus said. His heart was nearly bursting. His sister was still holding out, and his delays had not ruined them, and Eumeles was off Olbia. 'Two days, and we'll have him.'

But merchants are not always right. The next morning, Satyrus had been less than an hour at sea when his lookouts spotted the lead ships. After he'd heard twenty counted, Satyrus felt his fingers turn cold and his stomach began to flip.

Eumeles wasn't at Olbia. Eumeles and his fleet were right there, waiting at Gorgippia.