Funeral Games (13 page)

Philokles spilled a libation on the gravel. ‘To freedom!’ he said, and slipped the krater on to the back of his hand. He drank the bowl dry and flipped the leavings across the garden with a practised flick of the wrist, so that the drops of wine rang as they struck the bronze slops urn.

‘To freedom,’ echoed all the other diners. More drops of wine crossed the roses, but no one else hit the urn.

‘You’re good,’ Kinon said.

‘I spend a lot of time practising,’ Philokles said, his voice light.

Melitta leaned across her brother and whispered in his ear. ‘Kinon is flirting with Philokles,’ she said.

‘Hush,’ Satyrus said, shocked. He saw the slight smile on Kallista’s face, and he blushed - and she blushed. Their eyes were locked, and he had to make himself look away.

His sister glanced back and forth between her brother and the slave girl. She shook her head. ‘Brother,’ she hissed.

He hung his head. Their mother had strict rules about servant girls - and boys.

Theron and Philokles talked with Kinon long into the night. At some point, between wine and shared anecdotes, Philokles stopped hiding their situation, and Kinon expressed immediate sympathy. They began to map out how the twins could travel, either to Athens, where Satyrus owned property that was untouchable by Eumeles of Pantecapaeum, or to Diodorus, who was, it appeared, in the field with the army of Eumenes the Cardian.

Philokles was sober enough when it came to politics, but Theron, who had drunk less, finally shook his head.

‘I think I need to hear all that again,’ he said, pleasantly enough.

Kinon looked at Theron as if he was a fool. Satyrus sat forward. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘I, too, would like to understand.’

‘It’s all been the same since the Conqueror died,’ Kinon said bitterly. ‘Alexander conquered, well, damn near everything!’ He took a drink, tried to hit the bronze urn with his dregs and failed. Theron took the bowl.

Kinon shrugged at his own failure. ‘When Alexander died, he left chaos. In Macedon, Antipater was regent - for Alexander, yes? And throughout the old Persian empire - Darius’s empire - Alexander had left satraps. Petty kings who ruled over wide areas. Some were the old Persian satraps. Some were Greeks, or Macedonians. The system depended on a strong hand on the reins, and Alexander’s hand was very strong.’

Theron took the bowl and drank the whole of it, rolled it on his wrist and his flick caught Kallista on the top of her hair. She leaped from her couch and tossed water back at him, and they all laughed. It took time to settle down again. Satyrus couldn’t help but notice how transparent her linen was when wet.

‘Shall I go on?’ Kinon asked.

‘Please,’ Satyrus said. It was his turn with the bowl. He sipped carefully.

‘So the army met in council - all the spearmen, and all the cavalry, and all the officers - and none of the Persians or auxiliaries. Trust me, that will make trouble in time. At any rate, Alexander left no heir - no one who could run his empire. He has two children - one by Roxane, and another by-blow by a Persian noblewoman - some say she’s a common harlot, others that she is a princess.’ Kinon looked around, because Philokles was smiling. ‘You know her?’

‘Nothing common about her,’ Philokles said with a smile. ‘She’s - remarkable.’

‘At any rate, the army vote to hand the empire to Alexander’s brother, the halfwit. But he can’t rule himself, much less the world. And there are rumours - still - that Antipater was about to revolt anyway, that Eumenes and Seleucus were about to divide up the world - anyway, there are ten thousand rumours. The fact is, Alexander died and there was no one in charge. So all of his generals decided to fight over the empire. Perdikkas had the army - he had been Alexander’s top soldier at the moment of the conqueror’s death. But Antipater had the
Macedonian
army, the army that had been kept home.’ ‘The army that defeated the Spartans,’ Philokles said. ‘Only needed odds of five to one. Useless fucks.’

Satyrus was done drinking. He’d been careful, and consumed the whole cup without spilling a drop. He laid the cup along his arm as Philokles did, and he snapped it forward - and the handle broke. The cup smashed on the marble floor. His sister gave him the look reserved for siblings who behave like idiots, and Kallista burst out laughing.

Slaves hurried to clean up the mess.

Philokles roared. ‘Good shot, boy! Only, next time, hold the rim, not the handle.’

Kinon laughed like a good host. ‘Another cup, Pais!’ he called to the slave nearest the door.

‘Bring a metal one,’ Theron added.

Satyrus squirmed. Melitta decided to rescue him. ‘So Antipater had an army, and Perdikkas had an army.’

Kinon nodded. ‘A sober young lady. Antipater had Macedon, and Perdikkas had the rest - so it appeared. But one of Alexander’s generals—’

‘The best of them,’ Philokles put in.

‘I must agree,’ Kinon said with a civil inclination of his head. A new cup appeared and was handed to Philokles. ‘Ptolemy had taken Aegypt as his satrapy. He had a large Macedonian garrison and he began to recruit mercenaries.’>

‘Like Uncle Diodorus!’ Satyrus said.

‘Just like.’ Philokles nodded and sipped wine.

‘So Perdikkas decided to defeat Ptolemy first and take Aegypt to provide money and grain for his army. Which had been Alexander’s army.’ Kinon looked at Satyrus. ‘Still with me?’

‘Of course,’ Satyrus said. ‘And Perdikkas failed, got beaten and was murdered by his officers.’

‘No one ever called Macedonians civilized,’ Philokles said.

‘Now Antigonus has the army that used to belong to Perdikkas - except for the part that Eumenes the Cardian has. Antigonus means to unseat Ptolemy. Ptolemy! The least harmful of the lot! And a good friend to Heraklea!’

‘Perhaps Antigonus will lose?’ Philokles said. ‘I know Ptolemy. He’s a subtle man.’

‘You know him?’ Kinon laughed again. He was drunk now. ‘I am in the company of the great.’

Philokles finished the cup, flicked his wrist and his wine drop scored on the bronze rim of the urn like a bell tolling. ‘I know him pretty well,’ he said. ‘I took him prisoner once.’ He laughed, and Kinon looked shocked.

Melitta nodded. ‘It’s true. And my father and Philokles released him. They’re guest-friends, I think. Right?’

‘That’s right,’ Philokles said. ‘That’s why Diodorus is a little more than just a mercenary to Ptolemy.’

Kinon shook his head. ‘You took him prisoner? In a battle? Next you’ll be telling me that you knew Alexander!’

‘My father did,’ Satyrus said. ‘But please go on. Perdikkas is dead, and Antigonus One-Eye has his army.’

‘Exactly.’ Kinon got the bowl and balanced it expertly while talking. ‘Antigonus has the whole field army behind him, and Ptolemy won’t get another miracle in the Delta. He has no soldiers to speak of now, just some military settlers and some useless Aegyptians. He won’t last the season. I’ll miss him - he’s the only one of those Macedonian fucks who wants to build something instead of just killing.’ As he drank, his Boeotian accent got thicker, and now he sounded like a character in a comedy.

Philokles shrugged. ‘And Eumenes is left with the rump?’

‘Less than the rump - although he’s wily. Antipater had him once and he escaped.’ Kinon snapped his fingers for more drink. By this point, he had Kallista sitting on a stool beneath his couch, and he played with her hair while he spoke. Melitta had already excused herself like an Athenian matron.

Philokles laughed again. ‘I remember his wiles,’ he said. ‘He and Kineas chased each other all over Bactria.’

Kinon sighed. ‘And then there’s Greece, of course. Now that Antipater is gone, and we had Polyperchon as a replacement - too old, and not smart enough to live - Athens made a bid for independence back, oh, six years or so. They defeated Antipater’s army and frankly they looked to overthrow the whole system. That united all the Macedonians for a while.’

Philokles shrugged. ‘And Kineas’s old friend Leosthenes died.’

Kinon looked knowing. ‘Died - or got very sick and slipped away when the whole alliance started coming apart. There are people who claim to have seen him. But the chaos that he caused in Thrace and Greece is why One-Eye has time to move against Ptolemy - because Polyperchon is still rebuilding. The Athenians showed that the Macedonians could be beaten. And there’s a new man on the stage - Antipater’s son, Cassander - he’s a different matter. Bad to the bone, that one - smart like a lion and rotten like an old corpse.’

Theron shook his head. ‘I paid no mind to politics when I was at Corinth. It wearies me, friends. And all of you know these men - these great men - like fellow guests at a symposium. I’m going to retire, friends, secure in the knowledge that the only people of consequence I know are athletes, and none of them is much of an adornment at a dinner party.’

When he rose, he gave Satyrus a long look. Satyrus got the message. ‘I thank you for hospitality and good talk, wisdom and beauty.’ He slipped the last in with a look at Kallista.

Kinon nodded. ‘Tomorrow we’ll have a look at the agora.’

‘Perhaps the palaestra?’ Theron asked.

‘Of course!’ The host patted his stomach. ‘I may remember the way there!’

And with that laugh, Satyrus stumbled off to bed. He managed to make it to the couch in his room, and then his wits turned off like a snuffed lamp.

 

In the morning, they threatened to stay off. Melitta came to wake him, prodding him under the ribs with her thumbs and tickling his feet until his groans turned to counter-attacks. She giggled, backing away from his couch, and he discovered that he had a splitting headache.

‘Time to get up, sleepyhead,’ she said.

‘Oh,’ he said, clutching his temples.

An older slave, heavy with muscle and black as an Athenian vase, came in and began to tidy his chamber. Satyrus wanted to get off his couch, but he couldn’t quite make himself do it.

‘Could you fetch us some water?’ Melitta said. ‘You’re twelve, Satyr, not twenty. You drank far too much wine last night.’

‘I don’t think it was the wine,’ Satyrus said plaintively. ‘I think I’ve hurt my head, or caught a cold.’

The black slave snorted. He was only gone for a few moments and then he returned with a silver pitcher of water and a bronze cup. ‘Drink up, master,’ he said with a grin.

Satyrus raised his head. ‘Why are you
smiling
? My head hurts!’

‘Drink all the water in this pitcher,’ the slave said. ‘I’ll get you another when you are done. Then your headache will cure itself. I promise.’

Satyrus managed to drink down two pitchers of water, and then he and Melitta made their way out into the rose garden where all the guests were reclining. Melitta watched him with a superior smile. ‘More wine, brother?’ she asked.

‘Hard head, boy?’ Philokles asked. ‘Worst age for a male, Satyrus. At twelve, you are invited to behave like a man, but you can’t. Best be wary of the wine.’

Theron raised an eyebrow at the Spartan, and the two men glowered at each other for a bit. ‘Advice everyone could heed.’

A young male slave came in, sheathed in sweat, with a scroll. Kinon took it and opened it, his eyes scanning the page, and he frowned.

‘I asked our tyrant, Dionysius, to grant us all an audience.’ He rolled the scroll and scratched his chin with it. ‘He has declined the honour, saying that the time for meeting is inauspicious, which is a load of mule dung and no mistake.’ He handed the scroll to the same black slave who had waited on Satyrus after he awoke. ‘Zosimos, have this scraped clean and put in the stack.’

Zosimos took the scroll and vanished through the pillars of the colonnade.

Kinon glanced around, pulled out a gold toothpick and went to work on his teeth. Satyrus looked away. A female slave offered him wine, and he hastily put his hand over his cup. ‘Might I have some more water?’ he implored her.

She went to a sideboard and returned with a gleaming silver pitcher and a slight smile. He accepted both gratefully.

‘Something is amiss,’ Kinon said. ‘Nonetheless, I’m sending to Diodorus by courier so that he is warned of your circumstances. I’ll send a caravan with the armour - three days at the least, I’m afraid. What do you need?’

Philokles leaned forward. ‘Clothes, weapons, remounts. Some cash. Kinon, I am merely being candid - pardon my bluntness.’

Kinon shook his head. ‘No need to apologize. I am rich, and my friend Leon could buy and sell twenty of me, and together, your burden isn’t a flyspeck. Arms and armour are easy - we make them. Why don’t I have Zosimos take you to the shop? None of the gear will be silver chased or inlaid, but it is all solid and workmanlike. Take what you need or have Zosimos order it with our smith.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘I don’t like the fact that the tyrant won’t see you.’ He looked around. ‘Where is Tenedos?’

One of the female slaves darted into the colonnade and Tenedos, the steward, emerged, chewing on a stylus. ‘Master?’ he asked, very much in the tone of a man annoyed to be interrupted.

‘What shipping came in today, Tenedos?’ Kinon asked.

Tenedos took a breath and Satyrus thought that he hesitated. ‘Pentekonter from Tomis, laden with wine, property of Isokles of Tomis.

Merchantman from Athens, laden with pottery and fine woollens and some copper, property of a mixed cartel of Athenian merchants and some of our friends. The copper is ours. Military trireme, no lading.’

Kinon sat up and swung his legs over the side of his couch. ‘From Pantecapaeum?’ he asked.

‘By way of Gorgippia and Bata, if the oar master is to be believed.’ Tenedos tucked his stylus behind his ear.

Philokles swung his legs over the edge of his couch. ‘Ares!’ he said. He sounded tired.

Kinon shook his head. ‘This is Heraklea, not some grain town on the north shore of the Euxine. We have laws here, and a good ruler, even if he is a tyrant. But they’ve got to him. Tenedos, I should have told you - now I am telling you. I wish to know anything you learn of this ship, of its master and its navarch and who they visit. Understand?’ ‘Yes, master,’ Tenedos said, sounding both competent and long-suffering.