‘I swear that I will order that you not be harmed.’ He looked around. ‘For one day.’
‘I swear,’ Theron said.
‘I swear,’ Melitta said.
‘I swear by Zeus Soter that you deserve to die and I hope it comes to you soon,’ Kallista said. ‘But I swear not to harm you. Today!’
Philip and Draco shrugged at each other. ‘Listen, prince. This is a big thing. If he betrayed our tyrant, his life is forfeit. It’s not your place-’
Satyrus stood his ground. ‘I understand you. But I’m here, and Dionysius of Heraklea is far away. A day’s grace. That’s all I swear to. He can have a day.’
Philip looked at Draco. ‘I dunno-’
Draco nodded. ‘We swear by Zeus Soter not to harm him for one day.’
Philokles gave a snort.
‘There you have it, Athenian. Save him. Or die.’
The doctor took a ragged breath. ‘In the leather satchel. There’s a small black pot – that’s it. Give him some with water.’
Satyrus mixed it himself while Theron kept the Athenian pinned.
‘It won’t work for an hour,’ the doctor squawked. ‘You going to pin me the whole time?’ He shook his head. ‘This whole thing is messed up. He should be dead. You should all be dead.’
No one bothered to answer him. Draco heated water and Satyrus added the orange powder at the doctor’s directions. Then he spooned it into the Spartan’s mouth.
‘Now for your employer,’ Draco said.
The Athenian shrugged. ‘Stratokles – he hired me.’ The man looked around. ‘Now let me go.’
Melitta shook her head. ‘Draco, how long has this man been at the tyrant’s court?’
Draco shrugged. ‘Two months? Since the Feast of Herakles, anyway. ’
‘How long has Stratokles been in Heraklea?’ Satyrus asked, mostly just to show that he knew where his sister was going.
Philip glared. Draco glanced at the twins with open admiration. ‘You two are good at this,’ he said.
Sophokles looked disappointed. Satyrus almost had to admire his courage – he himself would be gibbering in terror at this point. But his hatred for the man grew. It was as if he was flaunting his contempt for them. ‘Stratokles hired me,’ he said, ‘long before either of us came to Heraklea.’
Melitta spat, as Sakje did when showing contempt. ‘You lie,’ she said.
‘You’ve all sworn your oaths,’ the man said. ‘So let me go. I’ve told you all that I have to tell.’
Satyrus tried to imitate Philokles’ delivery. ‘It’s a pretty piece of sophistry,’ he said, ‘to pretend that after weeks of betrayal and multiple murder attempts, we could be in the wrong by breaking your interpretation of our oaths.’ He shrugged. ‘I admire you for trying, though,’ he said.
Damn, that was good, right to the sarcasm.
‘Stratokles,’ the doctor insisted. ‘That’s all I know.’
‘He knows more than that,’ Kallista said.
‘You’re dead, you know that?’ Sophokles said. ‘You are fucking dead. All of you, really. Tyche preserved you this far – I’ve never been so unlucky in all my days as the last three weeks, and this drunk fuck on the ground somehow managed to keep me away from your food at every turn until I figured out that it wasn’t all luck. So fuck yourself, Kallista. I know you know how. In fact, I might tell them what you did for me. Does Theron know how many of us you service?’
Theron turned at her, and she hid her face.
‘Maybe that will serve you right, you faithless bitch,’ Sophokles spat.
‘He knows who employs him – us,’ Kallista said. She sighed. ‘I hate him. He scares me. I wish you would all kill him. But he knows.’ She looked around, as if she expected the little valley to sprout enemies. ‘He kills for Olympias. And yes – Theron, I’ve fucked him when he made me. I serviced them all, when ordered. I know.’
‘You’re dead,’ Sophokles said again. ‘I hope that you choke on the next dick you suck, harlot. Porne. Sperm bag.’
Theron was grunting with anger. His face was splotchy with rage, and his great hands clenched and unclenched.
Satyrus kicked the Athenian in the head. It was a hard kick, and he probably broke the man’s jaw.
‘That’s for sowing poison with your mouth, traitor.’ He stepped away. ‘A man like you demeans all men.’
‘Let’s just waste him,’ Draco said. He sounded happy to do it. His blue knife flashed.
Philip turned to Satyrus. ‘Listen, lad,’ he said. ‘You can’t play this game by the rules. Draco’s right. Let’s kill him.’
Sophokles suddenly realized that he’d gone too far. He could barely talk, but he managed. ‘No – you swore. Listen to me – she’s a fool! By saying that name, she’s written all your death warrants and probably mine as well. We don’t say that name. You swore. Let me go.’ His mask of contemptuous bravery was gone.
It was very instructive for Satyrus, at a certain level. He was learning something about the game of ruling, and something about what bravery was. And evil, if that was the word.
‘Don’t do it,’ Philokles whispered.
‘What?’ Satyrus asked. He looked at the Spartan, who was white as alum leather and whose eyes were rimmed in red. But they were open.
‘Oath – gods.’ Philokles’ head, which had only been raised a fraction, sank back on to his blanket.
Satyrus turned to his sister. ‘Lita?’ he asked.
‘Mama would gut him like a salmon,’ she said in Sakje.
‘Our father would let him go,’ he answered.
After a moment, she nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said.
Satyrus stepped up close to the traitor. ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘You think that you will have revenge on this girl, on me, on my sister.’ He could see the man’s rage, his helplessness, his intention to harm. The man had taken to killing because he was weak. Satyrus could see that.
It was very instructive.
Satyrus leaned close. ‘I say – let the gods decide who lives. I give you, a proven oath-breaker, and your foul mistress, to the Furies.’ He took a breath. His chest felt heavy, and there was something in the air. Moira. ‘Give him a horse,’ Satyrus said to the soldiers.
Draco looked uncomfortable. ‘But-’
Theron nodded. His hands were trembling, but his voice was steady. ‘Give him a horse. None of his kit.’
Minutes later, the Athenian galloped away.
They didn’t move again the next day. Satyrus held the two Macedonians until the sun was as near to the height of the oath as he could. Then he let them go.
‘You’re close to Eumenes,’ Draco said as he mounted. ‘I can smell his Greek breath from here.’ He reached down and clasped hands with Theron, and then Satyrus. ‘You’ll go far, boy – if the gods do as they ought.’
‘In which case, we’ll kill that Athenian bastard before tomorrow night,’ Philip added. ‘Travel well!’
The two Macedonians cantered away into the afternoon, and left the party poorer by a great deal of foul language and humour. Satyrus missed them immediately. But Philokles was better, if very quiet.
The next morning, Philokles was pale, but he could rise from his blankets, and after some sweating he managed to mount his horse. Two days later they were descending the mountains towards the great plains of the south. On the third day, the twins cornered Philokles while he loaded his packs in the morning.
‘We’ve come to thank you,’ Melitta said.
‘And to beg you to stay with us,’ Satyrus said. ‘We’re sorry we took so long to figure out what you were doing with the doctor.’
‘I had to be sure,’ Philokles said. He shook his head. ‘I used to be very good at that game, children. I thought I could catch him and turn him, or catch him and use him to spot other trouble. We outsmarted each other.’ He looked down. ‘Wine doesn’t help. I drank when I should have been sober, and I almost lost – everything.’
‘Crap,’ Melitta said. ‘You saved us! Let’s not have any sudden drama, master. Without you, we’d be poisoned.’
‘I have humiliated myself. I am no use to you and I cannot possibly teach you after my – my-’ The Spartan’s voice cracked. Something like a sob escaped from him.
‘Get on your horse and ride at my side,’ Melitta said. ‘I am Srayanka’s daughter and Kineas’s, and you swore to protect me. Please continue to do just that. No excuses.’