Melitta looked steadily into her brother’s eyes. ‘Your choice, brother,’ she said. ‘I made this war for you. You said, “Rescue Miriam”.’ Melitta’s eyes flickered over the still figure of the brown-haired woman. ‘She appears rescued. Now you want to save Lysimachos?’ She shrugged.
Satyrus acknowledged her point of view with a shake of his head. ‘I begin to think it’s time to choose a side and see to it that they win.’
‘We chose a side in Aegypt.’ Melitta shrugged as if to indicate that it hadn’t done them any good. ‘My side rides the plains and cares nothing for this war. Eh?’
Satyrus nodded. ‘Demetrios means to conquer the whole world,’ he said.
Melitta smiled. ‘Much good it will do him. The world will swallow him. No one but the Sakje know how much world there is.’
Satyrus fingered his beard. In the doorway, Miriam slipped away, and Menedemos of Rhodes bowed to her, eyed her breasts, and then came in. Charmides appeared with plain wool chitons, gave one to Anaxagoras and held out another for Satyrus.
‘Satyrus!’ Menedemos called. ‘You’ve outdone yourself.’
Satyrus shrugged.
Melitta raised an eyebrow. ‘As far as I can tell, Stratokles planned the thing and I did all the fighting, ‘she said. She flashed Stratokles a smile. ‘I may have to think better of you, Athenian. At the very least, I’d rather you were at my side than on the enemy side.’
Stratokles flushed with obvious pleasure — so obvious that Melitta laughed.
‘Are you clay in the hands of every handsome woman?’ she asked him quietly, looking up at him.
He sighed. ‘Now my secrets are discovered.’
Across the room, Menedemos took Satyrus’s arm and Satyrus stopped trying to listen in. Instead, he explained about Lysimachos.
The Rhodian nodded. ‘And you?’ he asked.
Satyrus looked around. Nikephorus was just coming in with Theron. Abraham gave him a nod from the doorway.
Satyrus cleared his throat and clapped his hands, and the room quieted.
‘Friends,’ he said.
They all turned away from other conversations, and looked at him.
This is power, he thought to himself. I wonder if I will ever have more than I have today. He saw young Herakles at the back, and smiled. The boy looked … as if he’d done some growing up.
‘First — thanks!’ he said. ‘Well done, everyone. Diokles? Apollodorus? Casualties?’
Diokles had a wax tablet in his hand.
‘Marathon is a complete loss — hulled twice. Ephesian Artemis and Pantecapaeaum badly damaged. On the positive side, we captured sixteen useable hulls: fifteen triremes and a quadreme. Leaving the captures aside, we’re short about six hundred rowers from all causes — casualties, illness, desertion.’ He paused. ‘Sandokes died with Marathon.’
Satyrus glanced at Nikephorus — more to tell him he was next than anything else — and looked back at Diokles.
‘Please send my praise to every rower. That was a brilliant action, carried out at extreme risk and against odds. And tell them there’s loot from the city and shares in the value of the captures — and pay out a silver drachma per man tonight.’
Diokles grinned his old, piratical grin. ‘Better than your praises, I’m afraid, Lord.’
Satyrus returned it. ‘I remember. Apollodorus?’
The marine shrugged. ‘We lost one quarter to one third of our boys. Typical sea fight. I have five hundred marines fit to fight, and another hundred who need a week to recover — or die. If you choose to crew those ships you took, my boys’ll be spread thin.’
Satyrus nodded. ‘How soon could your fit men march?’
Apollodorus pursed his lips. ‘Tomorrow. Not sooner.’
Satyrus looked to Nikephorus. The Greek mercenary nodded. ‘Two dead, six wounded, and three thousand spears marching up from the ships now.’ He allowed himself a small smile. ‘Lord, you and yours did the hard fighting. My lads just held the gate.’
Satyrus flashed on Achilles with Memnon’s head in his lap. ‘Yes,’ he said. He sighed. ‘Menedemos?’
‘We barely fought. If I have five dead, I’ll be surprised. Summer Rose took a hit from one of their penteres but she’ll be right as rain by tonight.’ He shrugged. ‘My marines weren’t engaged.’
Satyrus glanced around. His fatigue was such that he thought that if he closed his eyes he’d go directly to sleep, and he had so many aches and pains they seemed like a chorus. He really didn’t want to make any decisions, and he didn’t want their admiration, either. He wanted to go and see Achilles, and he wanted to lie with Miriam … and sleep.
He looked at Melitta.
She gave him a slow nod.
‘Tomorrow at dawn we march east,’ Satyrus said. ‘It was not my initial plan but we will leave a skeleton guard in the citadel — Rhodian marines, if Menedemos will accept the command. I’ll take all my men — marines and phalanx — to rescue Lysimachos. Melitta will see to the fleet. We will send a messenger to Ptolemy — best done by ship. Find Leon. If we can link Lysimachos and Ptolemy …’ Satyrus paused. The die was cast. ‘Then we can end this war. And I have come to the decision that the war needs to end.’
The buzz of reaction told him he’d made a popular decision, if not the right one — except Apollodorus, who spat, and left the room; and Stratokles, who met his eye and shrugged.
‘Ready for a ride?’ Satyrus called to Stratokles. ‘Take your scout and … Charmides, are you fit to ride?’
The young man grinned. ‘For anything.’
Stratokles nodded. ‘I’d like a good bodyguard and Herakles.’ He smiled. ‘I’m going to make Lysimachos crawl.’
Satyrus grunted. ‘Not too much,’ he said. ‘I want him to love me.’
Miriam reappeared, dressed as a matron. She gave him a smile, and he treasured it, but he stood, his side screaming in pain, and forced his back straight. ‘I lost some men today,’ he said to no one in particular. ‘I want to see to them. Abraham, will you serve with me? I have ships that need captains.’
Abraham smiled. ‘I will serve until One-Eye is done — until there is peace. But then?’ He shrugged. Looked at Miriam. ‘My father is dead, Satyrus. I am the head of my house. My life is not with you.’
Satyrus smiled. ‘I might surprise you. Why not buy a nice house in Tanais? Run your empire from there?’
Abraham tilted his head to one side. ‘Planning for the future?’
Satyrus nodded. ‘I’d like to marry Miriam, if you’ll have me.’ He looked at her across the room. ‘And if she’ll have me, I suppose.’ He laughed.
Abraham took a deep breath. ‘If my father was alive …’ he said. ‘You will become a Jew?’ he asked.
Satyrus sighed. ‘I can’t do this now. I know nothing of being a Jew, Abraham. I say that without judgement. I am a servant of Herakles. I would never be a hollow worshipper of any god. But I would never interfere with your sister’s worship.’
Abraham frowned. ‘You are right — this is not the time or place. In our religion, she may not wed anyone … who is not of our kind.’
Satyrus found that his fists were clenched, and he unclenched them. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I have business.’ He took the chlamys that Anaxagoras held out, slipped a sword belt over his shoulder, and made his way to the door, his side twingeing at every step.
‘Uh, oh,’ Anaxagoras said.
‘Herakles my ancestor, give me strength.’ Satyrus muttered. ‘He’s my friend.’
Anaxagoras put a hand on Satyrus’s shoulder. ‘He means to do good,’ he said. ‘You are a pious man who keeps the laws of the gods — would you have him different?’
Satyrus nodded. ‘I know what you say is true but that was not unease. That was intransigence.’ He shrugged. Apollodorus was leaning outside, drinking wine.
‘You don’t like my decision,’ he said.
Apollodorus shrugged. ‘I’m tired of it,’ he said. He took another drink.
Satyrus put an arm around the small marine. ‘Let’s get it over with — for everyone, then.’