Demetrios shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. He got to his feet. ‘You will remain here with me. I would think less of you if you didn’t try to recover the hostages — why not? And when I give you the one who matters to you — then you will make war on me. Your sister has already closed the Pontus against me. I would be within my rights to execute the Rhodian hostages.’
Satyrus felt anger blaze up within him. ‘If you execute them, I will die fighting you and your father and your cursed universal empire.’
Demetrios nodded. ‘It’s good that we understand each other.’
Satyrus chose his next words carefully. ‘Am I to understand that you don’t intend to release the hostages on time, as according to the agreement?’ he asked.
Demetrios shook his head. ‘No one could possibly expect me to. If I release the hostages, Rhodes will be free to act against me — as will you. And then, I expect that your combined fleets would destroy mine, and then I might fail. So, much as it pains me, I’ll just keep them until Lysimachos and Cassander have been neutralised. Two years — three at most. You want this woman so much? Speed their fall. Tell your sister to open the Pontus to me and close it to Lysimachos.’ He nodded. ‘In the meantime, you are my friend and will remain my guest.’
Angry denunciations crowded Satyrus’s mouth, but he spat them out. He was awake enough and wise enough to know that an open break with Demetrios would serve no purpose. ‘I will think on it,’ he said.
Demetrios rose to his feet. ‘That’s the spirit,’ he said. ‘Swear allegiance to me, and I’ll have this Hebrew maid brought here to you — and more. I felt the power that we would have together — did you not? In the breach? Oh, it makes my heart beat faster to think what we might accomplish.’
Satyrus thought: We failed. We didn’t even storm the breach.
But he smiled. ‘I’ll think on it,’ he said again.
Demetrios smiled again. ‘I’m sure you will,’ he said.
8
Three more days of dusty inaction, and Prepalaus surrendered the citadel on terms and marched the garrison away across the isthmus, headed north and west for Achaia. Satyrus didn’t see Demetrios, and on the third day, as the palace tents were packed, Satyrus’s bed was moved to a tent of his own — the tent he’d had the first day.
‘We’ll follow my lord when you are a little better,’ Apollonaris noted, measuring a dose of syrup. ‘Try this — it’s what I give men who can’t take poppy. Not as effective but not bad.’
‘What is it?’ Satyrus said. He put effort into his act — to seem worse than he was.
‘Hmm. A concoction of roots.’ Apollonaris smiled. ‘Professional secret.’
‘Odd taste,’ Satyrus allowed.
‘Your tents sound like a brothel,’ the doctor said, after some grunts had been heard through the walls.
Satyrus shrugged. ‘I think my mercenaries have gone into business.’
The doctor laughed. ‘Well, I’ll pitch my tent a little further away.’
The next morning, Satyrus got up immediately after the doctor had left him and began to exercise. Achilles came in, with Jason, and Jason oiled him and massaged him thoroughly, and he began to feel better. He tired too easily to contemplate immediate action, but he was better.
‘How many men are there out there?’ he asked.
‘Fifty hypaspists,’ Achilles said.
Jason nodded.
Satyrus kept his voice low. ‘Any idea how we can slip them?’ he asked.
Achilles shrugged. ‘Any time. Never was a group of soldiers so happy to find a bawdy house. But they’ve coin left — no need to hurry. Odysseus and me, we mean to have it all.’ He chuckled.
Jason leaned closer. ‘Your sister has declined to open the Propontus to Demetrios unless you are handed over. I have reason to believe that Neron ordered your death — in battle, at the breach. It stands to reason, lord; if you die here, apparently serving with Demetrios …’
Satyrus took in a sharp breath. ‘I’m not as smart as I think I am,’ he said.
Achilles chuckled again. ‘I am, though, lord. We have these men where we want them.’
‘What’s your plan?’ Satyrus asked.
Achilles shrugged. ‘Ask me in a day or two,’ he said.
Jason leaned in closer. ‘I missed Phiale,’ he said apologetically. ‘I needed more muscle than I had, and her killer wiped out my thugs. I came away but I won’t rest until I’ve finished her.’
‘Who’s paying her?’ Satyrus asked. ‘That’s what I want to know.’
Jason shrugged. ‘The word is it’s Cassander,’ he said. ‘But the word could be donkey shit, too.’
‘You two make my head hurt. Anything about the hostages?’ Satyrus asked.
‘He’s moved them all to Ephesus,’ Jason said. ‘More than a month ago.’
Satyrus started. He got up from the carpet, where he had been raising his legs, and he sat on the edge of his couch, winded from a very minor exercise. ‘But … that means he sent them away before I even reached here.’
Jason nodded. ‘Oh, yes. I remember the order coming to us. It was more than a week before you arrived. Perhaps two weeks.’
Satyrus cursed. ‘Then he never intended to keep the treaty.’ The rage threatened to overwhelm him. If he had stayed on Delos, he’d be free now, and he’d have learned this. He had come to Athens for nothing. And almost died for it. Truly, the gods knew all, and men were fools.
He thought of Cassander ordering his death, and Demetrios casually ordering the hostages to Ephesus.
There was no side that he wanted any part of, unless it was Ptolemy.
‘I’ve been had,’ he said.
Night, and Achilles’ travelling brothel was hard at work. Satyrus walked out of his tent, careful in case the doctor was wandering about but eager to have a breath of air, and discovered that the storage tent had a plank across two bales of sheepskins and on this makeshift table four different knucklebones games were going on. Four large pithoi of wine were half buried in the soil behind another temporary counter, and men sat on bales of sheepskins or benches, drinking, while Memnon measured wine with a ladle.
Aella appeared from the darkness. ‘Cup of wine, sir?’ she asked. ‘Oh,’ she laughed. ‘It’s you.’
Satyrus nodded. ‘I’ll take the cup of wine,’ he allowed.
She nodded. ‘And there’s the games, of course — are you a gambling gent? And Alex and me have got some boys and girls — local talent, really.’
‘How old are you, Aella?’ Satyrus asked.
She swayed, gave him a hard look, her eyes cold as ice. ‘Seventeen, I think.’
‘Is this the life you want?’ he asked.
She met his eye easily. ‘No. This is the life I have. If you pay me what you said you would, I’ll never play another flute as long as I live.’ She shrugged. ‘Otherwise, this is my trade until my purse fills with a baby.’ She stalked away.
Alex sat down with him on the bench. ‘She’s just angry. We know you don’t have any money right now.’ He shrugged. ‘Besides, this is way better than Athens. Achilles put us in charge. I’m keeping more’n half of what I make.’ He nodded at a young boy. ‘And a quarter what they make.’
Satyrus swallowed bile. ‘Send Achilles here,’ he said.
The wine was not very good. Satyrus shook his head in disgust. He’d been wrong, he’d been taken, and now he was the master of a travelling brothel.
The weight of the bench shifted, and Satyrus made room for Achilles.
The man sitting next to him was not Achilles.
‘Stratokles,’ he breathed.
‘Satyrus,’ said his old enemy. He raised his empty hands so that Satyrus could see them in the firelight. ‘I’m here for your sister.’
Satyrus started. ‘What?’
Stratokles laughed. ‘It’s odd for all of us. But Melitta sent me, and I’ve brought several of your friends. It’s been the deuce of a time finding you, and there’s men out to kill you even now. Remember the doctor? Sophokles?’ Stratokles was watching the hypaspists.