Tyrant: King of the Bosporus (26 page)

‘Indeed,’ Theron said. ‘In fact, Antigonus One-Eye is trying to hire pirates on the Syrian coast to serve in his fleet.’

‘And while the pirates sit in the Propontis, Lysimachos lacks the power to go into the Euxine and defend his satrapy against Eumeles,’ Abraham said. ‘I see it! Whereas, when you offer to take the pirates
out of the Propontis, you actually turn them into a navy that, to all effects, serves Lysimachos against Eumeles!’

Diokles shook his head. ‘But they all hate each other!’ he said.

Satyrus sat up, the claw feet of his iron chair smacking the floor with a crack. Then he stood. ‘Exactly. They all hate each other – so without a fourth party, they’ll never make common cause.’

He looked around at all of them. Kalos sat silent, interested only in returning to his new girl, or to sea, and indifferent to all this politics. Apollodorus had a new bronze
thorax
with silver inlay and buckles that was attracting most of his attention. Neiron listened attentively, as did the much younger Kleitos, still unsure of himself in such august company.

‘Listen,’ Satyrus said, and even Apollodorus sat up. ‘This planning is just so much dreaming of farms in Attica until they all sign articles. It may be more than we can manage, but it will cost us nothing but a winter under sail. We’ll ship small cargoes and turn a profit like good Alexandrian merchants, and if this fails, we will start hiring mercenaries until we can fight Eumeles beak to beak. But this alliance is
now
. And it will serve Ptolemy as well as it serves us, by freeing Rhodos and empowering Lysimachos, his ally.’

‘Too fucking deep for me,’ Kalos said. ‘You lead, I’ll sail.’

Satyrus looked at Theron. ‘Is this too complex to succeed?’ he asked.

‘You need three groups of men to see clearly to their own best interest, past a web of personal loves and hates,’ the athlete replied. ‘And then you need a port on the Euxine, or have you forgotten? Do you expect Lysimachos to give you Tomis as a base?’

Satyrus nodded. ‘I haven’t forgotten,’ he said. ‘I have hurt Tomis too much already. I’d rather not go there again.’ He looked around. ‘I will if I must. But I have another plan for a port, which I’ll share in time. Until then, I think I’ll keep it to myself.’

‘What of Manes?’ Abraham asked. ‘Or is he too small for us to worry ourselves with?’ He was already drinking wine.

Satyrus addressed all of them again. ‘Demostrate ordered me to rid him of Manes.’ He shrugged.

‘His sailors are making trouble for ours whenever they meet,’ Diokles said. ‘Ask Neiron.’

Neiron rubbed the back of his head, looked around and shrugged.
‘In Rhodos, I’d call the watch. Here, I asked the lads to carry sticks.’ He grinned.

Satyrus looked at Abraham. ‘So – tell me about Manes.’

‘He sees himself as Demostrate’s heir,’ Abraham said. ‘He’s a vicious animal without the leadership skills of a shark. Men fear him. Rhodos has a tremendous price on his head.’ Abraham shrugged. ‘He scares me – he’d do anything to achieve power. The other captains walk around him.’

‘Why is he making trouble with us?’ Satyrus asked.

Abraham looked at Theron. They shared a look, and then Theron spoke up. ‘Already, there’s word on the streets here that Demostrate has offered you an alliance. Or perhaps . . .’ Theron grinned. ‘Perhaps you are lovers. Don’t look shocked – sailors love a good sex scandal. Or perhaps he’s naming you his heir. Maybe all three.’ Theron shook his head. ‘Manes is reacting to all these rumours. Which may come straight from Demostrate, who’s pushing him to violence and hoping you’ll get rid of him.’

Abraham leaned in. ‘Or hoping that Manes will get rid of you,’ he added. He shook his head apologetically. ‘They’re pirates!’ he said, as if that explained any amount of treachery.

‘I want to sail before the end of the week,’ Satyrus said, ‘and I don’t want Manes interfering with me, here or at sea.’

‘Kill him,’ Diokles said.

Theron nodded. ‘Public service,’ he said.

Abraham looked around. ‘Goodness,’ he said. ‘And I thought
I
was getting coarse here.’

Satyrus walked to the sideboard and poured himself more hot wine. ‘The cost of kingship,’ he said. The wine he poured was like blood flowing into a cup, and the gesture wasn’t lost on any of them. ‘I’ll fight him man to man, but I want him trapped into it and I want his sailors helpless. Any suggestions?’

Abraham nodded. ‘It has to be man to man,’ he said, ‘if you want these criminals to follow you.’

‘I see that,’ Satyrus said, betraying his impatience. ‘Although I won’t hide from you that this Manes scares me, too. He’s the sort to walk down your spear and kill you when he’s dead himself.’

Diokles was nodding to himself. ‘I don’t know about any of that,’
he said, ‘but Manes is claiming that you’re actually a prisoner held for ransom, not a free captain.’

Theron scratched under his beard.

‘So he’d have to prevent Satyrus from leaving,’ he said slowly.

Satyrus agreed immediately. ‘Neat. So our next action will precipitate his. How do we trap him?’

‘He doesn’t look very bright,’ Kalos grunted.

‘Takes one to know one,’ Diokles quipped.

‘Pipe down, you two,’ Satyrus said. ‘He’s got the largest contingent after Demostrate. He can’t be a fool.’

‘Fear has its own courage. Perhaps it also has its own intelligence,’ Theron said.

‘I have an idea,’ Kleitos said quietly. ‘Listen – you’ll need to build new crews. Yes?’

Satyrus nodded.

‘Here’s what we could do,’ Kleitos began.

The next day, Satyrus promoted Kalos to trierarch aboard
Golden Lotus
and then promoted all the other officers to fill the gaps in his flotilla. Neiron was to be helmsman on the
Lotus
. Kleitos received the
Hornet
under Abraham, and Diokles became helmsman on the
Falcon
– helmsman and trierarch together. Theron went back to his
Labours of Herakles
, which hadn’t taken the casualties of the other ships and had all her standing officers intact – Antiphon of Rhodos was his helmsman, a steady man who disliked Byzantium and the pirates so thoroughly that he only came ashore to buy supplies.

The promotions were private, but the men in question made sacrifices at the Temple of Poseidon – except Diokles, who made sacrifice at the Temple of Zeus Casios, the conqueror of the oceans. The sacrifices were public knowledge and led to a certain amount of gossip – more, when they began laying in stores of amphorae and purchasing supplies – and cargoes.

Byzantium was glutted with grain – the result of the repeated seizure of cargoes coming down the Euxine from Olbia, Pantecapaeum and the northern grain fields. War galleys make poor cargo ships, but the
Golden Lotus
with her three and a half oar decks and deeper draught was designed to fight and carry cargo, and he at least could take a respectable amount of grain.

The other crews mocked Neiron as he loaded the
Lotus
. Most of his men were former captives, and they did not bear the taunting well, lacking the discipline of the old crew. There were fights.

There were worse than fights, as it turned out that some of the grain was rotten, or rat’s dung, and Neiron felt that he’d been taken. He remonstrated with a merchant, who laughed in his face and snapped his fingers. ‘You bought it,’ the merchant said.

Another day and one of Neiron’s senior rowers was killed – gutted in the agora by one of Manes’ men.

Satyrus complained to Demostrate, who told him that he should look to his own.

Manes’ men began to prowl close to the warehouse, smashing the
Lotus
’s boats when they were left on the beach and beating any oarsmen from the
Lotus
that they caught alone.

The new crew of the
Lotus
grew more and more resentful – first, that they were treated so, and second, that their enemies received no punishment. By contrast, Manes’ men grew louder and more determined.

A careful observer might have noticed that neither Abraham nor any of the veteran crewmen of the original
Black Falcon
were anywhere to be seen, on the streets or in the wine shops. They played no role in the fighting and they suffered no indignities.

Four days after the new captains made their sacrifices, Satyrus attended another symposium – this one considerably less colourful than the last. He lay on the same couch as Daedalus. The Halicarnassian seemed surprised to find him there.

‘I heard that you were lading your ships,’ he said. He was more than a little distant.

Satyrus ate a grape. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘tomorrow there will be some trouble. I’m keeping you clear of it. After tomorrow, I’d like to invite you to return to my table – and my council.’

‘
After
the trouble? This isn’t a bid for my aid against Manes?’ Daedalus asked, clearly incredulous. ‘He’s out for your blood, lad. Your uncle would have my arse if I didn’t help you.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve expected a message from you for a week.’

‘After the trouble,’ Satyrus said. ‘I’ll explain tomorrow. For the moment, it would be enough if you’d give me a good, sharp shove off the kline.’

‘Are you a fool? I’m most of what is standing between you and Manes ripping your guts out!’

Satyrus had to smile – Daedalus, the mercenary, was living up to his high reputation as a man who, once bought, stayed bought. ‘I know that,’ Satyrus said. ‘Believe me, you don’t want to be involved,’ he said.

Daedalus shook his head. ‘But after tomorrow, you’ll explain?’

‘By this time tomorrow, it’ll all be clear as a new day at sea,’ Satyrus said.

Daedalus shook his head. And put his elbow into Satyrus’s gut, shoving him brutally to the floor, so that Satyrus’s chiton was fouled with old wine and worse.

‘Keep your juvenile plotting,’ the mercenary growled.

Satyrus hoped that he was acting. He got up, rubbing his ribs – that was real enough – and slunk back to his own couch. On the way, Manes glared at him with his bestial glare, and Satyrus avoided his eye.

‘Look,’ Manes growled. ‘It’s the prisoner! Buying grain for a long captivity, boy?’ he asked, and his own adherents laughed.

Satyrus stepped back, putting more distance between Manes and himself. ‘I’m no man’s prisoner,’ he said. His voice wasn’t as firm as the other pirates would have liked to hear, and there was some mockery.

‘We’ll see in the morning,’ Manes said. He laughed. ‘What a ransom you’ll fetch!’

‘I’m a captain, not a prisoner. Talk to Demostrate if you doubt my word,’ Satyrus said.

‘Your word is worthless here, captive.’ Manes looked around. ‘And Demostrate is a captain among captains. If he spurns your ransom, the more fool he.’ Manes laughed, a hard sound for most men to hear.

Satyrus appeared to force himself to stand firm. ‘Prove it,’ he said mildly. ‘Fight me.’

Manes sat up. ‘Fuck you, boy. I may bugger you in the street, if I want.’

‘Afraid of me?’ Satyrus asked, conversationally. Now, the tide was turning. Men didn’t mock Manes, and this was too rich.

Manes swung his feet off his couch. ‘I fear
nothing
. Not you, not Demostrate, not Rhodos. I am the terror of the coasts, the lord of the sea.’

Satyrus gave him a mocking bow. ‘Really? So – you’ll fight!’

Manes reached for his sword and Satyrus’s fingers ached for his own hilt. Manes
was terrifying
and his arms were long. If he drew first . . .

Ganymede reached out and touched his master’s arm and whispered in his ear.

Manes stopped, and breathed deeply. ‘I do not need to fight you, boy.’

Satyrus gave the beast a mocking smile. ‘I think you’ll find that you’d have done better to fight me,’ he said.

Manes growled, and the hair stood up on Satyrus’s neck.

Demostrate was watching, but he took no action. Again Ganymede took his master’s arm, and this time he whispered furiously in his master’s ear. Manes shook him off, but then he turned his back on Satyrus and stomped off, head high.

‘Coward,’ Satyrus said, loud and clear.

Manes paused, his foot actually in the air, and then took the next step. He walked from the symposium, accompanied by a roar of comment.

Satyrus grinned at the other drinkers, and then headed after him. He didn’t follow Manes all the way to the outside door – he was quite sure what reception would greet him there. Instead, he walked down the slave stairs and through the kitchen, emerging from the slave entrance straight into the midst of Apollodorus’s marines, who ran him through the streets to Abraham’s. They battened down the hatches.

Despite all of Satyrus’s precautions, Manes made no provocative move during the night.

‘By Apollo, that man scares me,’ Satyrus said, as he sipped hot wine. The sun was still under the lip of the world, but the warehouse was lit from end to end as the sailors prepared to man the
Lotus
.

‘He is one of those men who seem to be greater, or less, than human,’ Theron said.

Satyrus nodded. ‘He must die. When he goes down at my hand, there will be no more tests – no more humiliations, and no more slave girls on my couch.’