We put to sea with a strong south wind coming hot and hard off Africa. We hadn't dared to sell even an ostrich egg out of the hold in Cyrene – they didn't like us, and Paramanos feared that the council would seize the ship. I spent the whole night afraid that he would change his spots and betray us. Which shows that I had something to learn about men.
The wind was fair for Crete. We had a hold full of copper and gold and I knew a good buyer. Besides, I wanted to know how Lekthes was doing, the bastard.
I'm laughing, because most Greek captains thought that it was a great thing just to go down the coast of Asia, or across the deep blue from Cyprus to Crete, but thanks to Paramanos, I sailed the wine-dark as if I owned it, and every night he showed me the stars and how to read them the way the Phoenicians read them.
Good times.
Paramanos was showing off for his daughters and they reciprocated, turning into a pair of little sailors. Ten days at sea and they could climb masts. The elder girl, Niobe, had a trick that scared me spitless every time I saw her do it – when we were under way, rowing full out, she would run along the oar looms, a foot on each oar.
The oarsmen loved her. Every ship needs a brave, funny, athletic eleven-year-old girl.
Probably as part of his showing-off for his girls, Paramanos made a disgustingly accurate landfall on Crete, and was insufferable as a result. We walked up the beach at Gortyn's little port and were welcomed like Homeric heroes – better, in that quite a few of them were murdered. Nearchos embraced me as if he'd forgotten that we weren't lovers, and his father was decidedly warmer than I feared.
'Tell me everything!' Nearchos said. 'Nothing has happened here, of course,' he said, glowering at his father.
So I bragged a little of the raid and I talked of the sea. I was falling in love again – with Poseidon's daughters, as the fisherfolk say. But the sea bored Nearchos – boats were a tool for glory, not an end in themselves.
'You raided Aegypt?' Lord Achilles asked. 'Your Miltiades is a bold rascal. You must be a bold rascal yourself.'
I raised my cup to him and we pledged each other until I stumbled out of the hall into the rose garden and puked up an amphora of good wine. But I gave each of them a cup of beaten gold – half the wages they'd given me, returned in a guest-gift, and then they were my friends for life.
In the morning, I had a hard head, but I went to visit the bronze-smith. He wanted to buy all my copper, as I expected he would. I gave him a good price and we parted with a dozen embraces.
'Any time you want to give up piracy,' he said, 'I could make you a decent smith.'
I waved to him and went down to the fishermen's village and found Troas. He was sitting by his Lesbian boat, mending a net.
'I heard you was back,' he said. He didn't look up. 'She's wed and well wed, and it's your boy she calved first. So don't go making trouble.' Then he looked at me. 'She called him Hipponax,' he said. 'And we all thank you for the boat.'
I'd sold a pair of the eggs and all the copper. I put a bag on the upturned boat hull. 'For the boy, when he's a man,' I said. I had planned a long speech – or perhaps just a blow. I hadn't forgotten how he'd given me a boatload of fools.
But standing there on the beach, by his upturned boat, I had to acknowledge to the gods that his boatload of fools had made me the trierach I was. His hands and the gods had helped make me. Still, I glared at him.
'You nigh on killed me with your cast-off men,' I said.
'I had no reason to send my neighbours and friends with you, boyo,' he said, calmly enough.
'I got them home – even the fools,' I said.
'Aye, you're a better man than some,' Troas said. He nodded, and that was my apology.
'I'd like to see my boy,' I said.
'Nope,' Troas answered. 'My fool of a daughter took quite a shine to you, my young Achilles. She's just about over it now, and settling down to be a prosperous fisherwoman. She almost loves her husband, who's a good man and not a fucking killer.' His eyes held mine, as tough in his way as Eualcidas or Nearchos or Miltiades. Then he nodded. 'On your way, hero,' he said. 'No hard feelings. Come back in five years, if you're alive, and I'll see to it that you and your boy are friends.'
I felt a rush of – sadness? Rage? And a lump in my throat as big as one of the ostrich eggs.
'Can I give you a piece of advice, lad?' Troas asked.
I slumped against the boat hull. 'I'm listening,' I said.
He nodded. 'You think you're happy as a hero, but you ain't. You're a farm boy. It's not too late to go back to the farm. I saw you play house with my daughter and I didn't figure you'd ever come back. But the fact that you did come back tells a whole different story.' He went back to his net. 'That's all I have for you, son.'
It is odd how quickly you go from the killer of men to the bereft boy. 'I have no home,' I said. I still remember the taste of those words, which slipped past the fence of my teeth against my will.
Troas looked at me then. Really looked at me. 'Don't give me that shit,' he said, but his tone was kind. 'Go and make one.' And he got up and embraced me – Troas, giving me a hug for comfort.
That's the way of youth, honey. One moment you are Achilles risen from the dead, the next an old net-mender feels sorry for you. And each moment is as real as the other.
I got to my feet. I was crying, and I didn't know why.
'Still some human in you, eh, boy?' he said. 'Give me another hug then, and I'll pass it to your son in a few years.' He held me close. 'If you don't leave this life soon, all you'll be is a killer,' he said.
I held him hard, and then I went back down the beach to my ship. Nearchos was waiting, with Lekthes. Lekthes was standing with a sea bag on his shoulder and all his armour nicely shined. His wife held his hand and wept. I kissed her and promised to bring him home, and then I embraced Nearchos.
'I have three ships and all the men to man them,' Nearchos said. 'When you – when you want me, call. We'll come.'
I sailed away with a lump in my throat. Part V An Equal Exchange for Fire All things are an equal exchange for fire and fire [is an equal exchange] for all things, as goods are for gold and gold for goods. Heraclitus, fr. 90
It is necessary to know that war is common and right is strife and that all things happen by strife and necessity. Heraclitus, fr. 80
20
We didn't see another ship until we were north of Miletus – the rebels and Miltiades between them had swept the oceans clean. North of Samos we caught a merchantman out of Ephesus – I knew the ship as soon as I saw him on the horizon. It had been Hipponax's pride, a big, long merchant with enough rowers to be a warship. I remembered what Briseis had said, that Diomedes had taken all their wealth, and we ran him down easily enough. They used slave rowers, and slaves will never save your cargo.
With my spear at his throat, the captain admitted that he served Diomedes of Ephesus.
I took the ship as well as the cargo, and all the slaves at the oars, too. But I put the deck crew ashore east of Samos. 'Tell Diomedes that Arimnestos took his ship,' I said. 'Tell him that I'm waiting for him.' I laughed to think how the little shit would react.