The Persians were fastidious. They didn't rape and they didn't pick on slaves, the way Greek soldiers will. So the slaves didn't mind them. But the Greeks – the smallholders of the lower town – killed a few in ambushes, and then the swords were out all over town, and Artaphernes' troubles began in earnest.
It wore him out. I saw him every day and ran messages for Mistress to him, offering him a remedy for headache or sometimes just carrying a verse or a flower. I liked running errands for my mistress, because she was kind to me, gave me money and it was an excuse to be in the women's wing. She favoured me, and she must have said something, because suddenly, after a year of forced parting, Penelope warmed to me again, and we were allowed to go out together on errands to the agora and to be together in private.
This is what I mean, my honey, when I say that masters have effects on their slaves that they never intend. I don't think Hipponax ever intended that I never see Penelope again, nor, I think, did Mistress understand how far Penelope and I might go – or perhaps she knew exactly what was happening. In fact, even as I tell this, I wonder if she sought to end another liaison – one whose discovery hurt me more than anything.
Anyway, it was on one of our errands together that I contributed unwittingly to the problems of the town. I was in the agora with Penelope – hand in hand – when a man clouted me in the head and sent me tumbling into the muck beneath the tanners' stalls. Penelope screamed. Once again, there were two attackers, but this time I was badly hurt. If my attackers hadn't been fools, I'd have died. One started kicking me and the other grabbed Penelope. In a crowded agora, that was a foolish move. She had a healthy scream and she bit him hard. Unlike a free-born girl, slave girls know just how to deal with attack. But I didn't see any of it, because my initial attacker had put his foot into my guts and I puked. He grabbed my hair – and then I was covered in blood.
Cyrus killed both my attackers. It was the will of the gods that Cyrus and Pharnakes, his particular friend, were in the market, looking for trouble, and I provided it. They killed my assailants with the joy with which men do such things.
But because there was a Greek lying on the ground and a screaming woman, many others in the agora jumped to the wrong conclusions. As I began to return to my senses, an ugly crowd was forming and Penelope was still screaming. She'd never seen a man's intestines before. Not her fault.
I got to my feet and had the sense to offer my hand to Cyrus, and he had the sense to take it, mud and blood and all. Then I embraced Penelope, and she let me lead her away.
'Best come with me, lord,' I said to Cyrus, and he and Pharnakes did as I suggested, like good soldiers. I led them up the hill and the crowd followed us for a few streets, but soon enough we got free.
After that I was much more careful when I was out of the house. Diomedes wanted me dead. I had forgotten him. The very best revenge. His betrothal had been put off all summer, and I suppose he thought to take it out on me. I told Hipponax before he went off to Byzantium on a short cruise, and he told me that he would see to it.
Cyrus told me that it was I who had saved his life, by leading them out of the agora, and not the other way around, and he treated me with courtesy and gave me more lessons. As the summer passed, my Persian got better, and by the time Hipponax returned from his ship, no one else had tried to kill me.
The 'conference' went on and on. The tyrants were not willing to raise men for Artaphernes or to give the assurances he wanted. Nor were they awed by his soldiers. Most of them were islanders, and they had a hard time imagining the Great King's cavalry coming to their shores.
Oft-times, when the guards admitted me to the satrap's presence, I would find him sitting with his head in his hands, staring at his work table. That's how bad the summer had grown, towards the end. Not that he was ever less than courteous to me, and he always paid me a compliment and gave me a tip. Even when he became my mortal foe, I never forgot his basic goodness. Artaphernes was a man. Some men are noble by nature, honey. He was one. Heraclitus once told us that the value of a man could be measured in the worth of his enemies. Well, if that's true, I was doing well.
One day in late summer, I brought Artaphernes an invitation from my mistress for dinner. We walked back together – he usually rode, but this time he left his escort in camp, and all he had was my four friends in a loose knot about him. Twice he stopped to speak to common people with petitions. He was that kind of man.
I waited on him at table, and Archi, who was suddenly tall and handsome, shared his couch and they talked together like old friends while Euthalia plied them both with fine food and too much wine. Kylix was mixing the wine as thin as he dared, but still all three were drunk in fairly short order. My four friends were in the kitchen with Cook and Darkar waiting on them. They were lords, but they were simple soldiers, and they weren't offended. We were having a fine evening. I went back and forth from kitchen to andron, and sometimes I'd carry a joke from the high to the low, or even back.
Late in the meal, Hipponax came in. He'd taken a new ship to sea that morning to try her, and he was back early and none too happy with what he'd just seen.
'There was a riot in the lower town,' he said.
This was old news to me, and shows how little they knew, really.
'Two of your men dead and five lower-class people – but citizens, damn it!' Hipponax shook his head. 'Artaphernes, you must send those soldiers away before you create the very climate you seek to avoid.'
Artaphernes sat up on his couch. 'No man tells me what I must do,' he said quietly, 'except the Great King whose servant I am.'
Hipponax smiled. 'It's like that, is it? Very well, be the satrap, lord. But those soldiers are doing more harm than good.' He wasn't drunk, thank the gods, or we might have had trouble.
Artaphernes shook himself. 'Bah, I'm drunk,' he admitted. 'I need to get out of this cesspool. Before I do something I'll regret.' His frustration showed. And something about Hipponax's arrival set him off. He frowned. 'This stinking cesspool.'
Hipponax refused to take offence. 'I've never heard sacred Ephesus described as a stinking cesspool before,' he said. 'I must say that it won't make it as a poetical contribution.'
His wife laughed. She brought wine to the satrap with her own hands. I could smell her perfume from my station – heady, musky stuff. 'Perhaps I will smell less like a cesspool, lord,' she purred.
'You are the only thing worth having in this town,' Artaphernes said.
Hipponax's eyes met mine. I bowed and fetched two slaves to help me move a kline for him, and we set him up with a wine cup and some food. Darkar came up from the kitchen and caught my eye. I slipped out.
'You have this under control?' he asked.
I shook my head. 'There's something here I don't get,' I admitted. 'The satrap is angry and he's taking it out on Master.'
Darkar looked at me with something very like pity. 'I will take your place. You go and wait on your young master only, and get him to bed as quickly as you can convince him – or just feed him wine.'
'What of Cyrus and the others in the kitchen?' I asked.
He shook his head. 'They're no trouble. Off to your duty, now.'
So I tried to put wine into Archi. I needn't have bothered. He had a head for wine by then, and he could probably have gone bowl for bowl with his father, but suddenly he smiled at me and shook his head, pushing away his bowl. 'I'm for bed,' he said.
Darkar shot me a glance, but it was none of my doing. I escorted my master to bed, but he was impatient with me, and after a few attempts at conversation I was dismissed.
I went back to the kitchen to visit my friends. I was off duty, unless Cook or Darkar, the two senior slaves, chose to order me about. In fact, as I waited on the Persians while I chatted to them, we were all at our ease. I served them wine and they laughed and joked and flirted with Penelope when she came through – I assumed on an errand for Briseis, bored in the women's wing and not invited to the party. I'd seldom seen Penelope in the kitchen. She didn't linger.