Tyrant

6

Olbia stood out from the low shoreline of the Euxine like a painted statue in a dusty marketplace. From where Kineas sat on a low bluff across the great Borasthenes River, he could see a long peninsula projecting from the far shore. A pall of smoke from thousands of fires coated the town like dust, or soot, but the temple of Apollo rose in pristine splendour atop a steep hill at the base of the peninsula and the town filled the tip, with solid walls as high as three men — the highest walls Kineas had seen since the siege of Tyre. The walls seemed out of place, out of proportion to the size of the place and the position of the town. And the town spilled over the walls, small houses and mud buildings filling the ground from the base of the walls to the temple hill, an ill-defended suburb that would have to be sacrificed in the event of a siege. Olbia had two harbours, one on either side of her peninsula, and dolphins, the symbol of the town, sported in the water below him and gleamed gold on distant marble pillars at the town gates.

The golden dolphins reassured him. Almost at his feet was a proper polis: gymnasia, agora, a theatre — and a hippodrome. Kineas was glad to see that he had not led his men into a howling wilderness for nothing. But the tall walls and the slovely suburb were at odds — either the city needed to defend itself, or it did not.

Niceas coughed and a cloud of breath formed in front of his mouth. It was cold. The summer was long gone. ‘We’ll need-’ He coughed again, this time too long. ‘We’ll need a ferry. Hermes, I’ll be happy to be in a bed with some straw.’

Kineas spotted what had to be the ferry crossing, more than a mile from the mouth of the river, well clear of the traffic in the harbour. ‘Let’s get you indoors.’ Niceas wasn’t the only sick man.

Only Ataelus was immune to the cold. He had a fur-lined hood, taken at a dice game with the other Scyths, and a longer cloak. The hard, clear air didn’t give him sniffles or a cough and he still slept outside with his reins in his hand. The other Sakje had ridden away two days before, returning to their woman leader wherever she was once they had taken Kineas to the mouth of the Borasthenes. They had been good guests, good hosts and everyone had dined on their hunting skills night after night. Most of the men had picked up a few words of their language and the deep grunt — uuh-aah — they made when they won at dice.

As they rode down to the ford, the horses picking their way through long grass silvered with late morning frost, Kineas trotted over to Ataelus. ‘We all owe you a debt of thanks. You are a fine scout.’

Ataelus smiled, then shrugged. ‘It is for good for with you.’ He looked at his riding whip as if finding some flaw to cover his embarrassment. ‘Good with you. Me, I stay, you give a more horse. Yes?’

Kineas had not expected this. It made his morning. ‘You want to stay with us? And you want me to give you another horse?’

Ataelus held up his hand. ‘More horse, and more horse. You chief, yes? Bigger chief in city, yes? I get more horse when you get more horse.’ Ataelus shrugged as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Diodorus more horse. Antigonus more horse. Even Crax more horse. Why else fight for city? Yes?’

Kineas reached out and they clasped hands. In this respect, the Scythians and Greeks were brothers — they clasped hands to show friendship and agreement. ‘I’m very glad you wish to stay.’

Ataelus nodded, smiled again almost flirtatiously. ‘Good. Let’s go drink wine.’

But it wasn’t that simple. Their arrival at the ferry caused a commotion — a dozen obviously armed men with no trade goods and a Scythian. It took all of Kineas’s various skills as a leader and as a bully to get the ferryman to load his men, and when they arrived on the other side with thirty very cold, wet horses, soldiers met them.

‘Please state your business,’ said the officer. He was a big man with long dark hair, a dark complexion like a Levanter or an African, a huge beard and expensive armour under a voluminous black cloak. And his men were well armed and well disciplined. The officer wasn’t rude, but he was direct. ‘You have scared a number of people.’

Kineas was ready with his letter, and he held it out. ‘I was hired to come here and command the Hippeis. Here is my letter from the archon.’ The letter was a little the worse for having travelled from this spot to Athens by sea and back again in a saddlebag, but it was still legible.

The officer read it carefully, Kineas had time to wonder how many things might have gone wrong in six months — another man took the commission, the archon died, the city had changed government… The big man returned his letter. ‘Welcome to Olbia, Kineas of Athens. The archon hoped it was you, but we expected you by boat, many weeks ago.’ Now he was regarding Kineas carefully. Kineas knew the look — every officer in Alexander’s army watched his rivals just that way. Kineas stuck out his hand. ‘Kineas son of Eumenes, of Athens.’

The officer took his hand firmly. ‘Memnon, son of Petrocles. You served with the Conqueror?’

‘I did.’ Kineas motioned to his men to start unloading.

‘I was at Issus — but with the Great King.’ He turned and bellowed an order and his men brought their spears to the rest, then down butt first on to the ground. ‘Take your ease!’ he called. His voice was not as low as his size had led Kineas to expect and he gave his orders in a curious sing-song Greek. His men stopped being automatons and became quite human, dropping their heavy shields and pulling their cloaks around them, looking with undisguised curiosity at Kineas’s men.

Town slaves came from behind the hoplites and began to make bundles of their gear and place it on their heads. They were mostly Persians. Kineas watched them — he had seldom seen Persians used as slaves.

Memnon followed his interest. ‘The Great King made a foray against a local brigand a few years back and the result was a market glutted with Persians.’

Kineas nodded. ‘A Scythian brigand?’

Memnon smiled out of half his mouth. ‘Is there another kind?’

Kineas saw that Niceas, in betwen coughing fits, had the men currying the cold, wet horses on the spot — good. He put a hand on Niceas’s shoulder. ‘This is Niceas, my hyperetes. And Diodorus, my second in command.’ He looked through the group again. ‘Where is Philokles?’

‘He was just here,’ said Diodorus.

Memnon watched them all carefully. ‘One of your men is missing?’ Diodorus laughed. ‘I imagine he headed for the nearest wine-seller. We’ll find him.’ He gave Kineas a minute shrug.

Kineas interpreted the gesture to mean that Philokles was on an errand or had business of his own. Diodorus apparently knew what was happening. Kineas did not — so he merely said, ‘We’ll find him soon enough.’

‘Never mind, the archon is waiting.’ Memnon smiled unpleasantly. ‘He hates to be kept waiting.’

It took an hour for all of Kineas’s men to find their quarters. They had been put in the city’s hippodrome, in a newly-built barracks by the stables. The rooms were new but small and none of his men, least of all the gentlemen, was in a mood to be pleased.

He gathered them all in the stable. ‘Stay here, clean the place, get it warm and bathe. I want Niceas and Diodorus with me to attend the archon. The rest of you — this is where we are. I suggest you find a way to like it.’ He spoke sharply — perhaps more sharply than he meant. ‘And find the Spartan.’ Then, unbathed, he changed into a clean tunic, good sandals and combed his hair and beard.

In the entryway of the barracks he met with Diodorus, who looked clean and neat as a newly forged pin, and Niceas, who looked like a man with a serious head cold. A soldier and a town slave waited outside, the slave to carry anything that might be wanted, the soldier to take them to the archon.

The soldier led them to the town’s citadel, a stone-built tower with heavy bastions and walls a dozen feet thick. Memnon’s men guarded the entrance, forbidding in their cloaks. More of them guarded the closed doors at the end of a long, cold portico. The walls and the guards prepared Kineas to some extent for what awaited him. No archon of a free city needed mercenary guards, a citadel, and an antechamber. The archon of a free city would be at his house, or in the agora, doing business. And so he wasn’t surprised when the guards at the doors indicated that his men were not welcome. He gestured that they should wait for him and passed on. A guard took his sword — a barbarian in a torq.

Kineas watched the closed doors open and heard the clash of arms within — more guards — and followed his guide into a warm, dark room decorated in gold with a heavy hand: statues of the gods, their clothes picked out in gold; Persian hangings shot with gold thread; gold lamps suspended on chains from the ceiling that gave a faint gold light; an iron brazier with gold legs that glowed red and vented scented smoke; a gold screen; a table set with gold cups and a huge golden bowl. And behind the table, almost invisible in the scented murk, a man with a diadem was seated on a chair. Memnon stood behind him, his armour appearing to glow in the ruddy light. Flanking the man in the diadem stood a pair of heavily muscled men in lion skins, holding heavy clubs.

‘Kineas of Athens?’ The voice was soft, very quiet. The smoke from the brazier and the darkness made the voice appear to come from throughout the room, like the voice of a god. ‘You are late by fifty days.’ A soft laugh. ‘It is not easy to travel to the end of the earth, is it? Please, help yourself to the wine at your elbow. Tell me about your adventures.’

‘There is little to tell, Archon. I sought to bring my own horses and I have. I apologize for being late.’ Kineas found himself off balance. The incense in the smoke was cloying — it bit at his throat unpleasantly. And the men in skins — more barbarians — seemed to be a direct threat.

‘You have no need to apologize, young man. At least, for being late. These things can happen. Please tell me how you came here.’

‘I came by sea to Tomis and then by land with my horses.’

‘Come, young man. More detail.’

‘What can I say? We had a brush with some bandits. We met with a group of Sakje.’ Kineas was wary. He had the sense that a trap was being laid for him.

‘The bandits you fought were Getae, yes? Unfortunate that they are allies of this city. And the Sakje — truly, the worst bandits of the lot. You were lucky to escape with your skin.’

‘The Getae were a few men under a local leader. They attacked us for our horses.’ Kineas grabbed a handful of his beard as he often did when puzzled. ‘I had no idea they were allies of this city.’

‘Nor did they suspect that you were in my service. A most unfortunate circumstance. Still more unfortunate that you then turned the Sakje on them. They lost ten villages, burnt. We trade with the Getae and the Getae are allies of Macedon. You have hurt our trade.’ The archon rested his chin on his hand and looked up at Kineas. ‘And perhaps you did not know that my own family are of the Getae?’

Kineas winced. ‘I had no idea.’

‘A pity. and the Sakje — did they ask a toll of you?’

‘Archon, you seem already to know these things.’

‘Please answer the questions as they are put. You are in my service and the service of my city. We require your cooperation in all things.’

Kineas took a deep breath and coughed. Then he said, ‘The Sakje asked a toll. I paid it — two horses from my herd and some gold.’

‘And the lord of the Sakje — a red-bearded man?’

‘A woman, Archon.’

The archon’s surprise was evident. His voice became louder, more focused. ‘A woman? That I had not heard. That is interesting news. What was her name?’

Not for the first time Kineas regretted that he had not learned it. ‘I don’t know.’

‘A pity. It is my lot in life to follow the careers of these petty brigands. Often it becomes a matter of state security to know which of them is developing ambitions. Young man, we do not pay tolls to the brigands on the plains. Please be sure never to do so again. Ah — and I’m told you have one of them in your train. Please dismiss him.’

Kineas had kept his temper on a long leash, but he’d just reached the end of it. ‘I’m afraid you have sent for the wrong man, Archon,’ he snapped. ‘I am a gentleman of Athens, not a dog.’ He tossed the letter on the table. ‘Perhaps a dog can be ordered to dismiss his men in Olbia, but not an Athenian.’

The archon smiled. His teeth gleamed like ivory in the light. ‘Not so obedient. But loyal to your men. Will you be as loyal to me, I wonder?’ His tone changed, the smile folded and put away, the teeth gone back into the darkness. ‘You brought horses. Why? There are few things we need less, here. The brigands sell us what we need. They breed them like maggots. You came fifty days late and antagonized an ally so that you could get a few Greek horses into my city? That’s not good judgement. I only want men with good judgement.’

Kineas tried the wine and found it excellent. It cut through the smoke in his throat. ‘You do not have a single cavalry mount in the city stables.’

The archon paused. For the first time he glanced at Memnon. ‘Nonsense. I have twenty horses there, all superb animals. They had better be superb, I paid well for them. If you advise me, I shall get more if required. No need for your Greek beasts.’

Kineas nodded. ‘All twenty are excellent horses. Not one is trained for war. I brought twenty chargers and with them as a foundation I can train a hundred more this winter.’ And start a stud, he thought, but kept it to himself.

The archon cocked his head to one side and put his chin in his hand. ‘Humph. Perhaps there is truth in what you say. That’s why I wanted a cavalry officer. So, here you are. I’ll fob the Getae off, then. And the brigands, what did you think?’

‘I think they are a little more than brigands. Very good cavalry. I would not want to tangle with them.’

‘Brigands, I tell you. They pretend we owe them tribute and tolls. Humph — wait until you try and trade with them. But they have their uses and they don’t cost us anything. Unlike your gentlemen, who are quite expensive.’

Memnon smiled. ‘Security is never cheap, sir.’

‘Humph. Kineas, you know the terms. You brought men with you — that was never in the contract. I wish you to train the gentlemen of my city.’ A deep breath and then the voice went on in a whisper. ‘Make them useful, stop them from being such a thorn in my side. They waste my time with their plotting and their lawsuits. But I didn’t want to hire another troop of mercenaries.’

Kineas nodded. ‘I took the risk that you would accept them. They are excellent soldiers, gentlemen of family from Greece and elsewhere. And I must have some experienced men as file-closers and as trainers. Those men must be well born or your Hippeis will not accept their direction. I brought a dozen men, sir — they will not empty the treasury,’ Kineas pointed at the gold lamp, ‘which seems well stocked.’

‘Don’t count my treasure before you’ve earned it,’ snapped the archon. His voice, rich and mellow when calm, was sharp as a sword when aroused. Money clearly aroused him. ‘Memnon? What do you think?’

‘I think he’s got a point. I wouldn’t offer to train a city’s hoplites to be better soldiers without a staff.’ Memnon caught Kineas’s eye.

‘What do you expect them to be paid, these gentlemen?’ asked the archon.

‘Four drachma per day, payable every month,’ Kineas was happy to be on firm ground, rattling off the figures he had pondered for a month. ‘A month in advance for every man. Double wages for my hyperetes and one other senior man. A bonus for combat duty and for each year of good service.’

‘Double the wages of my men,’ said Memnon. But he gave Kineas the tiniest of nods.

‘Your men don’t provide their own mounts which they have to keep, nor all the tack. I think that you’ll find that after deductions for living, the wage is about the same.’ Kineas had, in fact, asked for more money than his men were expecting.

Memnon gave a short laugh, like a bark.

The archon shook his head. ‘Humph. Very well. I expect good service and I expect that when I learn to trust them, your men will be at my disposal.’ He rang a small bell, the noise sharp in the heavy air. A slave in a long robe responded immediately. The archon gestured at Kineas. ‘Do the maths and get this man a month’s pay for his men.’

The slave was well dressed, thin as a pole and heavily bearded with deep-set eyes. He bowed. ‘As you command, lord.’ His Greek was accented with Persian. He looked at Kineas. ‘I am Cyrus, the factor of the archon. I understood that you have twelve men, two of whom are to receive double pay, at the rate of four drachmas a day. Is this correct?’

Kineas nodded. The Persian was very formal. He had probably been a nobleman. Nothing in his demeanor indicated what he thought of his current status. Kineas bowed. ‘Cyrus, I am Kineas of Athens. May we be well met.’

Cyrus held his eye throughout the greeting — not the sign of a born slave — and was visibly pleased to be greeted in such a way.

Kineas continued. ‘My hyperetes is waiting beyond these doors. Please give him the money,’

‘As you wish, sir.’ Cyrus walked through a side door.

Kineas turned back to the archon. ‘I also desire the city rank of Hipparch, as you stated in your letter.’

The archon hesitated. ‘I am hiring you to train my nobles-’

‘And you will expect me to lead them in the field,’ Kineas interrupted.

‘Don’t be so stiff necked. There is a man of the city, a powerful man, Cleitus, who holds the post of Hipparch. I do not wish to offend him.’

‘Neither do I, Archon. Nonetheless, no squadron can have two commanders. Either I am, on the one hand, his superior, in which case it is my job to make him understand and obey me, or he is, on the other hand, my superior, in which case neither he nor any other gentleman of this city has any reason to listen to a word I say.’

The archon fiddled with his beard. Memnon said nothing. His eyes were fixed on one of the gold lamps hanging over Kineas’s head. Silence reigned.

‘You will both be Hipparchs,’ said the archon. ‘That is my word on it. My law. You will be equal in rank. If he is not willing to learn your ways, perhaps you will bring word of this to me. And another thing…’ He raised a hand to forestall Kineas’s protest. ‘From time to time, you will no doubt hear rumours of plots against me from these men. You will bring these plots to me. You will win their respect so that they expect to confide in you. In this way you will strengthen my rule and the city itself. Do you understand?’ He lowered his voice again. ‘And if these men miss musters, or refuse to serve under you — that is a crime, on the rolls of this city long before my time of rule. You will report each misdeed to me at once.’

It was Kineas’s turn to stand silent. In effect, he was being asked to inform on his own troopers, a situation so repugnant that he was tempted to give a hot answer. On the other hand, it was just the sort of petty crap any soldier expected when serving a tyrant. Kineas balanced the one against the other — the good of his men, that of his own and his view of himself as a man of honour.

‘I will tell you if I believe a man to be plotting against the city,’ he said carefully. His choice of verbs was exact, the product of his childhood training in rhetoric. ‘Or committing any serious crime.’

If the archon caught the hedging in his reply, he made no comment. ‘Good, then. I like that you have not made some horrible demand for your own pay. What do you expect?’

‘What you offered to get me to come here,’ said Kineas.

‘Please note that I do not subtract the bonus because you are fifty days late.’ The archon’s voice was warm, amiable. ‘I will start the pay of your men from the time they entered our lands.’

‘Thank you, Archon. You are generous.’ Kineas now longed to be free from the room, the stink of the brazier and the atmosphere of restriction and fear. ‘When do I begin my duties?’

‘You began them when you reported to me. I expect I will have errands for your men soon. I will summon the Hippeis for the day after the feast of Apollo. It is their custom to be on the parade of the hippodrome at the ninth hour. Please inform me by name of every man who fails the muster. Cyrus will provide you with a complete list.’ He waved his hand in dismissal. ‘I look forward to great things from you, Kineas — now that you have come.’

Kineas held his ground. ‘How shall I address you?’

‘As Archon — at all times.’ The archon lowered his head and waved his hand again in dismissal.

Even Alexander had used his name with his companions. And he said he was a god. Kineas allowed himself to smile. ‘Very well, Archon.’ He turned on his heel and left.

Niceas was waiting with two hefty leather sacks and a scroll. Diodorus looked through the closing door at all the gold and whistled. ‘Well?’

‘We’re hired.’ Free of the room, Kineas began to think of the many things he should have said, and several he had not said. He picked up a sack of coins and thrust the scroll through his sword belt, then recovered his sword from the guard. The guard summoned a guide who led them back through the citadel and out to their quarters.

Diodorus waited until their guide had left and asked, ‘Tyrant?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Kineas wanted to wash.

‘You smell like a Persian girl. We staying?’ Diodorus indicated the coins. Niceas started to say something and was lost in coughing.

Kineas opened a bag and began counting out coins. ‘Yes. First, because the pay is excellent. Second, because we have nowhere else to go.’

Diodorus laughed. ‘Got that right.’

Kineas put a hand on Niceas’s shoulder. ‘How sick are you?’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Good, then go round up the men. Let’s get some things straight.’

When they reached the hippodrome, almost clear across the town from the citadel, Diodorus poured them both wine. Kineas called for Arni and put him to mulling wine with spices for Niceas. By the time the room, the largest in the barracks, was full of the aroma, all of the men were gathered. Diodorus remained by Kineas and Niceas joined him, wiping his nose on a rag. The others brought stools. Lykeles sat in front with Laertes and Coenus. Andronicus and Antigonus stood by the door. Crax hovered at the edge of the hearth. Ataelus sat on the floor and Ajax stood with Philokles against the window.

Kineas raised an eyebrow at Philokles, who smiled in return. Kineas didn’t have time just then to discover where the Spartan had been. He rose to his feet and addressed them all.

‘Gentlemen. Our first payday since we left Alexander. And time for some rules.’ Kineas held out a hand for silence as the word ‘payday’ was greeted with happy murmurs. ‘First — we serve a tyrant. I will say nothing beyond this — every man here must swear before leaving this room to be loyal first to his messmates and his friends, before any other loyalty. I ask this of you because I already suspect that we will be spied on, that our words may be relayed, and that our position here could become very difficult. Instead of living in fear, I propose that we agree to speak freely among ourselves, whatever silence we choose to keep outside the walls of the hippodrome.’ He sipped his wine. They were stone silent, now.

‘We will be training the Hippeis of this city — provincial gentlemen with large sums of money, large estates, and no experience of taking orders from anyone. I will speak frankly. Those of you who were men of property in your cities — Lykeles, Diodorus, Laertes, Coenus, Agis, and Ajax,’ at his name, Ajax’s head came up as if he were surprised to be included in any way, ‘will have the greatest duties as trainers. You will understand best the manners and the motivations of our noble soldiers, and while being firm on matters of discipline, you will exercise judgement as to how to apply them.’

Lykeles nodded. ‘Don’t antagonize the rich?’

‘Lead through example. That’s why I brought you. We will offer prizes for accomplishment from the first. We will not stint with genuine praise, but we will not flatter. We will strive to always be better men than our pupils without embarrassing them. If possible, we will meet them socially and bury them under the weight of our accumulated war stories.’

Most of them laughed, even Ajax.

Antigonus raised his hand. ‘Are the rest of us to curry horses?’

‘No.’ Kineas looked around. ‘We are a company of equals. I command, yes. Diodorus will be my second and Niceas my hyperetes, as always. After them, every man will take his turn at every duty. First, however, I intend to accustom our recruits to the idea that we are their social equals. After we have them broken to the saddle, then we will use the rest of you to train them on squadron work, skirmishing, all the things at which you excel.’ Kineas had piled the Olbian drachmae on the table while he waited for Niceas to bring the men. ‘Pay will be at the rate of four drachma per day. Each month is paid in advance. This is your first month’s pay. Diodorus and Niceas get double pay. Is that acceptable to everyone?’

It was better than acceptable to everyone except Ataelus, who began counting on his fingers, and Ajax and Coenus, who shrugged.

‘Very well,’ said Kineas. ‘Agis the Megaran — one hundred and twenty drachmae. Make your mark. One hundred and twenty drachmae to Andronicus, plus fifty drachmae for the loss of your horse to the amazon. No deductions. One hundred and seventy drachmae. Make your mark, you are a rich man. One hundred and twenty drachmae to Antigonus, no additions, no deductions. Make your mark. Coenus…’ And so he went through them, leaving Crax beaming at the pile of silver in his hands and Ajax bemused at what to do with so much pocket change. He paid them all while Niceas made marks on a scroll and Diodorus watched.

‘Tomorrow we have our first parade. I want every one of you up and sparkling for this and every other parade we have. Remind them by your bearing that you are a professional soldier and they are hopeless amateurs. Once your tack is clean and your armour shined, you may go spend your money any way you like. Fill the barracks with whores — gamble it all away. Be warned, though — we are under discipline now. Discipline with us means don’t make an ass of yourself outside the barracks. ’ They were laughing, the poorer men unable to take their eyes off the small piles of heavy silver coins. ‘But first,’ Kineas’s voice snapped like a banner in the wind, ‘you will all swear.’

They stood in a circle — all twelve, and raised their hands, putting them over Kineas’s in turn, so that he could feel the weight of their arms on his. ‘By Zeus who hears all oaths, by Athena and Apollo and all the gods, we swear that we will remain loyal to each other and the company until it is dissolved by us all in council.’ Kineas spoke the words and they repeated them with gusto, no voice lacking. Ajax surprised Kineas with his eager voice rising above the others. At that moment he loved them. He tried not to show it.

‘Clean your armour. Then let’s get some wine.’ He wriggled his toes by the warmth of the fire, glad to be off the cold plains and sitting in a decent chair.

But he wished he had learned the name of the Sakje woman.

In the morning, if there were any long heads from drinking, they were hidden well. First, Kineas read off to all of them his intended course of inspection and instruction. They laid out butts for throwing javelins, set aside space for the practice of mounting and dismounting, and built fences to simulate riding over rough country. After the field of the hippodrome was ready, Kineas inspected his dozen veterans. All of them had spent money the day before on tunics and buckles and they looked the better for it. They wore blue tunics under their armour, the colour of the city, and every man had a silver buckle on his sword belt. Their horses shone. Kineas gave them a smile to show that he appreciated their efforts. He himself wore a new cloak of deep blue, and had a blue horsehair crest on his plain bronze helmet. He had shaved his beard from the shaggy mass of hair it had become to a neat brush in the new style.

They exercised for an hour in the sharp air, their manoeuvers easily accommodated by the field of the hippodrome. Kineas turned to Niceas after the first run with javelins. ‘We shall need more room for three hundred gentlemen. Have Ataelus scout the ground around the city and find us a decent field.’

‘I’ll go with him,’ said Niceas, and coughed. He wiped his nose with a rag and coughed more.

‘I want you to go to bed. You look terrible.’

Niceas shrugged. ‘I’m fine,’ he said, and began to cough again.

The exercises were quite competent. Kineas kept them at it until the horses had all been worked to a lather and the men had brushed the cobwebs off their skills. Ajax could throw one spear at the gallop but couldn’t yet manage to get his second javelin transferred to his throwing hand before he passed the target. He tended to drop the second in his haste. Philokles could throw far and accurately, but he couldn’t throw quickly and he could just manage his horse. His riding had improved, but not to the standard of the other men.

Kineas chose not to single Philokles out — the Spartan was perfectly aware of the shortcomings of his riding. But when the exercises were done, he summoned them all.

‘I want you to think that we are now in a land of horsemen. The Sakje are not the only men here who ride. Our Hippeis are likely to be better riders than most Greeks, as good as Thracians or Thessalians. That was good work today. Get those horses stabled and warm. When that’s done, I’d like Philokles, Diodorus, Lykeles, Laertes and Coenus to accompany me to the gymnasium. The rest of you should wander the city. Accustom yourselves to the streets. Learn where the gates are and the posterns — not just the wine shops.’

The Getae slave, Sitalkes, took Kineas’s horse and began to curry it, which earned him a glare from Niceas. Kineas ignored the glare and went to change for the gymnasium.

Their barracks was small, but it had amenities. The central hall off the porch was lined in pegs for cloaks and equipment and gave on to the kitchen where two city slaves cooked, as well as a meeting room and Kineas’s own pair of large rooms and a hearth at the back of the building. Stairs on the outside of the building gave on to a passage with doors that led to six small rooms with sleeping racks for soldiers. The rooms were unheated, but better than any tent and the men had taken the two rooms directly over the kitchen. Kineas entered through the portico and stripped in his own chamber, wiped the cold sweat from his breastplate, cleaned his helmet and set them on a stand by his bed. He hung the baldric of his sword belt over the breastplate. Clothed in a decent but unmilitary tunic and sandals, he met Diodorus in the central hall.

‘Now we show ourselves to be gentlemen,’ Kineas said.

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Diodorus.

Coenus gave a sneer. ‘I’d rather the locals proved themselves to be gentlemen. So far, they look like hicks.’

While waiting for the others, Kineas sent a slave to the gymnasium to request permission to use it with his men. As mercenaries, they had some status, but they were not citizens. It was best to be sure.

Lykeles came in rubbing his head. ‘I have a good mind to buy a slave to curry my horse,’ he said. ‘The stink!’

The town slave returned with a handful of clay discs. ‘These are for your honours’ use. They mark you as guests.’

Kineas gave the boy an obol. ‘Shall we take some exercise?’ he said to his gentleman troopers.

Olbia’s gymnasium was a finer building than that in Tomis, if gaudier. Bronze dolphins adorned the stone steps and the facade was stone as well. The building had heated floors and warm baths, and a heavy gilt-bronze plaque in the portico declared that Archon Leucon son of Satyrus had built it as a gift to the city.

Kineas read the plaque, amused to see that here, at least, the archon used his name.

Town slaves took their cloaks and sandals. They walked through a short passageway to the changing room and stripped in the chill air, leaving their tunics in wooden cubbyholes. Two other men stopped their conversation and watched them strip, silently. They began a hushed exchange as soon as the five soldiers left the changing room for the exercise floor.

The silence was repeated there. At least a dozen citizens stood about the sanded floor, a few exercising with weights, one man using his strigil on another, but their conversation died when Kineas entered.

Diodorus looked about him. Then he shrugged. ‘Care to wrestle a fall, Kineas?’

It was too chilly, even with the heated floor, to pause for long. Kineas squared off against Diodorus, while Coenus and Lykeles began to exercise, carefully working their cold muscles. Laertes set to lifting weights.

Diodorus feinted a grab at Kineas’s legs, caught an arm and threw him, but Kineas got hold of his head on the way down and they fell in a tangle of limbs. In a second they were both on their feet again. In the second engagement, Diodorus was more careful, but he couldn’t get Kineas to overcommit and it was Kineas who trapped one of Diodorus’s hands and went for a throw. Diodorus struck Kineas a sharp blow to the ribs, but Kineas got a foot behind Diodorus’s leg and tripped him. Diodorus rolled out of the fall and they were both on their feet again, now warm and breathing harder.

Kineas raised his hands, palms out, in a high guard. Diodorus kept his low, close to his body. They circled. Out of the corner of his eye, Kineas saw that they were being watched by most of the men in the room. He grabbed at Diodorus’s head with both hands. Diodorus’s hands shot out, parted Kineas’s hands and hit him, open handed, on the forehead, rocking him back. In a second, Diodorus was on him, his left leg between Kineas’s legs and Kineas was down, this time with the weight of his friend solidly atop him. The sand on the floor was none too deep and the fall bruised his hip. Diodorus got to his feet and Kineas stood, dripping with sweat and rubbing his hip.

‘Well struck,’ he said ruefully.

‘I certainly thought so. You make me work harder and harder, Kineas. You may make a passable wrestler yet.’

They wrestled three more falls, two of them by Diodorus, and then Lykeles and Coenus began boxing. Neither of them was as fast as Kineas or as athletic as Ajax, but they were competent and a little showy.

None of the other men in the room offered a contest or even a wager, and none of them approached Kineas’s men. They stood silently by the gymnasium’s fountain, watching in a group.

Kineas crossed the floor to them. He was reminded of the efforts he had made, fruitless efforts as time proved, to be social with the Macedonian officers in Alexander’s army. Despite his doubts, he approached the oldest of the men, a lean, athletic old man with a beard nearly white.

‘Good morning, sir,’ Kineas said. ‘I am only a guest here and I desire to run. Where do I go to run?’

The older man shrugged. ‘I run on my estate outside the city. I imagine that’s what any gentleman does.’

Kineas smiled. ‘I’m from Athens. Our estates are generally too far from our houses to visit for exercise. Many times I have run around the theatre, for instance, or early in the agora.’

The old man cocked his head, examining Kineas as if he were a ram for sale at auction. ‘Really? You have an estate? Frankly, young man, that surprises me. I imagined you were a freebooter.’

Kineas began stretching. He looked up at the old man — and his crowd. ‘Before he died, my father was among the largest landholders in Athens. Eumenes — you must have heard of him. Our ships traded here.’ And as he switched sides to stretch the other leg, he said very deliberately, ‘My friend Calchus still sends ships here, I believe.’

Another man, thinner, but with a paunch that suggested a serious lack of exercise, leaned forward. ‘I trade with Calchus. You know him?’

Kineas brushed sand off his thigh and said, ‘We grew up together. So you don’t run in the city?’

The best looking man in the group, younger and harder, said, ‘Sometimes I run around the gymnasium. It wasn’t built on the best site — well it wasn’t! I’m not attacking the architect or the archon! The new gymnasium doesn’t have room for a running event, is all.’

Other men edged away from him as if he had a disease.

Kineas extended a hand to the man. ‘I’d like some company. Care to run with me?’

The man looked around at the rest of the group, but none of them met his gaze and he shrugged. ‘Certainly. Let me stretch a moment. I’m Nicomedes.’

They ran longer than Kineas might have wished. Nicomedes was an accomplished distance runner and he was interested in going faster and farther than Kineas had planned, leaving little wind for talk. But it was companionable enough, if cold, and when they had run as far as Kineas could manage without collapsing in public, they returned to the gymnasium and the baths, and Nicomedes invited Kineas to dinner — his first invitation in the city.

Luxuriating in the first decent bath he’d had in a month, Kineas asked, ‘Are you in the Hippeis, Nicomedes?’

‘I certainly qualify by property, if that’s what you mean. I have a horse, but I’ve never served. My people have always served on foot.’ Close up, Kineas could see that Nicomedes was a bit of a fop — he had the remains of make-up on his eyes and the cheeks of a heavy drinker. He was older than he had first appeared, and very fit, and his preening indicated that he knew how good his body was — but he was a pleasant companion for all that.

Kineas chose his words carefully. ‘A word to the wise, Nicomedes. The archon has given me a full list to muster the town’s cavalry and he seems to expect compliance.’

Nicomedes’ shoulders came out of the water so fast the drops flew. ‘That’s not fair — we’ve always served as hoplites.’ And then: ‘How fucking typical.’ And after another pause: ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

Kineas shrugged and scrubbed. ‘You might pass the word.’

Nicomedes said, ‘Have you met the hipparch, Cleitus?’

Kineas thought, I’m the hipparch. And then he thought back to the archon’s hesitation on the subject. Ahh, now I begin to see. ‘I have not. I’d like to — we will have to work together to accomplish anything.’

Other men were coming into the baths and busy slaves were filling the other wooden tubs. The rooms began to fill with steam. It lent a comforting anonymity. The chatter grew louder. Kineas could hear Lykeles flattering somebody’s physique, Diodorus asking questions and Coenus quoting Xenophon’s views on horsemanship.

Nicomedes said, ‘He sometimes shares a cargo with me, and we are occasionally allies in the assembly — when the archon lets us have an assembly, that is. Hmm, shouldn’t have said that. Anyway, I could ask him to dinner — give the two of you a chance to meet. We were only told that the archon was hiring a mercenary.’

Kineas motioned for a slave to rub his shoulders. ‘I can imagine,’ he said.

Clean, dressed and pleasantly tired, Kineas led his men back to the barracks. His damp beard seemed to freeze as soon as they went outside and his cloak would not get him warm. ‘That went well,’ said Kineas.

‘They expected us to be monsters,’ said Lykeles. ‘Makes me wonder about Memnon and his lot.’

‘It’ll take more than a couple of dinners and some visits to the gymnasium to settle them,’ said Kineas, rubbing his beard.

Diodorus said, ‘There’s more going on here than I expected. It’s not just the old bloods against the archon, either. My sense it that there are three, or even four factions. Does Athens support the archon? It’s not like Athens to support a tyrant, even in these decadent times.’

‘Athens needs the grain,’ said Coenus. ‘I heard a debate on granting citizenship to the tyrant of Pantecapaeum, once, in the assembly. It was all about grain subsidies.’ He rubbed his beard. ‘I thought your Nicomedes was a fine man, if a bit of a fop. I bored one of the older men with my erudition — laid it on a bit thick. Petrocolus, his name was. Fine old fellow.’

‘They’re a cautious lot,’ said Lykeles. ‘Hermes, they’re a close-mouthed crew — all except your Nicomedes. Handsome man. Did he run well?’

‘Better than I ever will, or want to,’ said Kineas.

‘Bit of a hothead, by local standards. I wonder how soon the archon will hear you are dining with him?’ asked Diodorus.

One of Memnon’s men was standing in the entryway to the barracks.

‘There’s your answer,’ said Kineas.

Kineas had to struggle to enjoy dinner with Nicomedes. His food was excellent and his wine passable, but the men around the circle of couches were either silent or spoke in what appeared to be a code.

Nicomedes’ house was colourful, decorated in the latest style, except for an antique mosaic over the floor of the main room, which showed Achilles killing the queen of the Amazons at Troy in grisly detail. His furnishings and his food were on par with the richest men in Athens.

Kineas revised his view of Olbia. The grain trade made these men very rich indeed.

He was introduced to Cleitus immediately — a short, dark-haired man with a long beard and deep-set eyes and a fair amount of grey hair — but he couldn’t seem to start a conversation with any of them. All of them lay alone to dine and the couches were set far enough apart that conversation was difficult. A trio of Nubian dancers reminded him uncomfortably that a bath wasn’t the only thing he hadn’t had in a long time, but they also served to kill any talk that might have sprung up after the main course.

Unable to leave his couch due to the prominence of his approval of the dancers, Kineas watched the other men, trying to identify why the situation seemed so normal and yet so alien. On the one hand, everything was just as it should be in a well-run Greek home — the men being served, the side dishes, fish sauce, wine on the sideboards, busy slaves. On the other hand, the silence was oppressive. Kineas tried to remember a time in Athens, even under the most repressive governments, that his father’s table had not rung with angry denunciations, violent protests, if only against the taxing of the rich, and political argument.

The last dishes were cleared away and more wine was brought. Without being asked, Kineas rose and pulled his own couch closer to that of Cleitus. Cleitus glanced at him while he moved his couch, but said nothing.

Kineas lay back down and held out his cup for filling. Nicomedes rose, said a prayer and poured a libation. The other guests added their own prayers and libations. Again, they behaved just like Greeks, but there was no ribaldry, no jokes, no suggestions. Odd.

‘Nicomedes,’ called Kineas. ‘I checked the rolls. You are listed for service in the cavalry.’

Nicomedes sat up on his couch. ‘By all the gods — well, I suppose it can’t be blamed on you. I can ride well enough — when is this muster?’

‘The day after the feast of Apollo, I believe. Cleitus — you are the hipparch?’

Cleitus shook his head. ‘I act as the hipparch. Only the assembly of the city can appoint the hipparch. They have not met… they have not… that is to say.’ Having gone so far, Cleitus halted and drank his wine.

Nicomedes smiled. ‘Cleitus doesn’t want to say it, but the council has not met since the archon dismissed them. Since then, the hipparch, Cleander, died. Cleitus does the duty.’

Kineas frowned at his wine cup. ‘So you are not the hipparch and I am not the hipparch. Who can command in such a situation?’

Cleitus glared at him, stung. ‘What is there to command? The last time I mustered, only sixteen men came with their horses and armour. Many others came on foot, to see and be seen.’

Kineas nodded. Athenian cavalry often showed the same contempt for authority. He had himself, once. ‘When were you last in the field?’

Nicomedes snorted. Cleitus actually blew some wine out his nose. ‘Field? In the field? What, against the Scyths? They’d eat our brains. The Getae? Another city? You must be joking.’

Kineas looked around the room. ‘Are you all Hippeis, then?’

The youngest man shook his head and declared that he fell far below the property qualification, although he had a horse and liked to ride. The rest were all of the cavalry class.

Kineas said carefully, ‘Wouldn’t it be better to have a well-trained, well-led body of cavalry in this city than a rabble of rich men?’

‘Better for your pay, perhaps,’ said Cleitus.

Nicomedes nodded. ‘Who would it serve? What faction would control this well-trained cavalry?’

‘For the good of the city,’ said Kineas.

They all laughed. But Nicomedes fingered his short blond beard thoughtfully.

All his life, Kineas had heard the phrase ‘for the good of the city’ used in a number of ways — with deliberate sarcasm, with political amorality; to flatter, to cajole, or to demand. He’d heard the phrase abused, but he’d never seen it ignored. Who are these men? he thought. What kind of city is this?

‘Have a good night?’ asked Diodorus when Kineas came into the barracks.

‘The wine was good. The company was a little dull — what are you reading? In fact, what are you doing in my rooms?’

‘It’s warmer here and I wanted to talk to you as soon as you came back. I thought that the archon told you to avoid Nicomedes?’

Kineas laughed mirthlessly. ‘Actually, the archon asked me to be careful in making friends. I always have been, so I chose to take his words as a compliment. You waited up to worry about my relations with the archon?’

‘No, this.’ Diodorus held up a scroll. ‘I had several letters from friends waiting for me, and you need to know the contents. Antipater has made Zopryon his satrap in Thrace. He’s putting gold and men into Thrace even now. They’re building an army there.’

‘Headed where?’

‘I can’t say for certain and neither can my sources. The word being given out is that it’s an army of reinforcements going out to the Conqueror.’

‘That could be true, certainly.’

‘They could be aimed here, too. These are rich lands and Antipater needs cash. Alexander may be conquering the world, but he hasn’t sent a lot of money home and Antipater has a lot of enemies. Look at Sparta.’

Kineas nodded. He pulled at his beard and started to pace the narrow confines of the chamber. ‘Is Sparta planning war?’

‘Sooner or later. What choice do they have? And Macedon is mighty, but they need money. What better place to get it but here?’ Diodorus made a rude gesture. ‘And there goes my bonus.’

‘If they are poor and yet sending money and men into Thrace, then the move can’t be far off. They won’t have the money to pay mercenaries for long.’ Kineas stopped and poured himself some wine. ‘Want a cup?’

‘Please. Until next summer, I expect.’

‘How many men?’

‘Two taxeis of phalanx, some mercenaries and some Thracians — perhaps fifteen thousand foot. Companions and Thessalian cavalry — perhaps four thousand horse.’

Kineas whistled. ‘We’d best get out of the way, then.’

Diodorus nodded. ‘That’s why I thought I should tell you immediately. You don’t seem surprised.’

Kineas shrugged. ‘You suggested as much at Tomis, just not in the same detail. And,’ after a minute’s hesitation: ‘I heard something about the possibility in Athens.’

Diodorus nodded. ‘Yes you denied any knowledge of it at the time.’

Kineas met his eyes and they stared at each other for three heartbeats.

‘I see. So that’s not open to discussion.’ Diodorus rubbed his forehead, clearly annoyed. ‘So what did the dinner guests say? You met the hipparch?’

‘He’s not really the hipparch,’ Kineas said. He explained why and revisited the conversation.

Diodorus looked thoughtful. ‘I think I see where this is going.’

‘You are not the only thinker here, Diodorus. I can see through a brick wall in time. The archon is trying to appoint me so that he can usurp yet another power of the assembly. I see that.’ Kineas gestured with his wine cup. ‘And then he uses me to keep the rich men in line.’

Diodorus nodded. ‘Worse than that, really. I think he expects to use you to cull some of the rich — those who conveniently break the muster laws, for instance, will doubtless be arrested, tried, and exiled — or worse. But you may have ruined that by warning them. The worst of it is, though, that the archon no doubt plans to use the Hippeis as hostages.’

Kineas choked on his wine. ‘Hostages?’

‘Certainly. Once they are under your command, he can threaten to send them off — to fight, to patrol — he’ll have control of them. Remember — there is no assembly, no council — this man can make war and peace on his own word. He can send these rich men out of their city on the pretence of public service, and keep them out as long as he likes.’ Diodorus drank the rest of his wine and wiped his mouth. ‘Really, I’m surprised no one has thought of it before.’

‘Gods help us all if you ever achieve political power,’ said Kineas.

‘It’s nice to have my skills admired. I’m going to bed. But I have another point to raise,’ Diodorus looked at his wine cup as if the design surprised him.

‘Go ahead.’ Kineas rubbed his chin, which didn’t seem to have enough hair on it.

‘Philokles.’

‘Is he a problem? I thought everyone liked him.’

‘He’s good company. But he comes and goes — Ares’ balls, it’s hard to put a finger on this. He’s out most of the time, and he’s not whoring. I think he’s got some business of his own.’ Diodorus shrugged. ‘I don’t mean to spy on him, but…’

Kineas swirled the wine in his cup. ‘I’ll think about it. I don’t watch any of you — I try not to know who’s got a lover and who might drink too much. You’re suggesting what — that Philokles is a spy?’

Diodorus looked at his wine for a long time. ‘I don’t know what I’m suggesting. He clearly didn’t want to be seen coming into the city — remember?’

Kineas nodded. ‘The atmosphere of this place is going to get to us all. Let’s allow the Spartan to live his own life for a while.’

Diodorus nodded, but he was clearly unconvinced.

‘Diodorus,’ said Kineas. ‘Thanks. I’m happy to be told — I don’t always see things the way you do. And sometimes, no action is the best action.’

Diodorus frowned. ‘I’m beginning to suspect that everyone here has a secret. I’d best go find one of my own.’