Idomenes went to fetch Nikephoros. He preferred his master in the darker and more pragmatic moods. His ebullient moods were the most dangerous for his clarity.
'How is he today?' Nikephoros asked. He had a magnificent bronze and silver breastplate under his Tyrian crimson cloak.
'At his best,' Idomenes said.
Nikephoros raised an eyebrow. 'You always say that. It is not always true.' He shrugged. 'I speak no treason. We need him at his best. I do not like the reports from the georgoi. We could lose the countryside to this witch.'
'Farmers are notorious for their superstitions,' Idomenes said.
Nikephoros stopped just short of the citadel doors. 'Listen, steward. I pay you the courtesy of discussing matters of state with you like an equal, because I think that you are a man with your master's best interests at heart. Do not mutter platitudes to me.'
'I must take your sword, Strategos,' the guard said. His voice was apologetic.
Nikephoros didn't take his eyes off the steward as he handed his plain, straight sword to the guard.
'The georgoi have reason to fear,' Idomenes admitted.
'Exactly.' Nikephoros nodded. 'Let's go.'
He inclined his head to the tyrant, and no more. Eumeles returned this with a civil bow. 'You've come for money?' Eumeles began.
'The lads are three months in arrears. You know that, so I won't belabour it. If the new phalanx arrives and they've been paid, there'll be a mutiny.' Nikephoros crossed his arms. 'Not why I came, though.'
'Your men haven't yet been called on to fight.' Eumeles seemed to think that this was an important point. 'They're fed and warm. I'll pay them when I need them.'
Nikephoros rolled his eyes. 'Lord, save it for the assembly. My men expect to be paid. You tasked me to find you soldiers – real soldiers, not Ionian crap. I hired them away from Heraklea and even from Lysimachos, and now they want cash.'
Eumeles looked down his nose at his strategos. 'Very well. I need them to find the means of their own pay. An elegant solution. Send the phalanx into the countryside and collect the grain – all of it. Anything these georgoi have in their barns. Send a taxeis to the Tanais back-country first – we'll not pick on our own farmers until there's nothing left on the Tanais.'
'You want me to take their seed?' Nikephoros asked.
Eumeles nodded. 'Yes. Every grain of it.'
'But-' Idomenes began.
'Do I look like a fool?' Eumeles shouted, and rose to his feet. He was taller than most men, rail thin, and the hair was gone from the top of his head. He looked more like a bureaucrat than a terrifying tyrant, until he rose to his full height. 'Take their profits,' he said. 'Take their means of supporting this petty princess, this Melitta. And take their means of farming, and they'll starve.'
Idomenes shook his head. He caught Nikephoros's eye, and they agreed, silently. 'Master – lord, if we strip the farmers on the Tanais, we cast them into her arms.'
Eumeles nodded. 'I see how you might think that. But frankly – and let us not delude ourselves – these peasants are lost to us already. They are all traitors – why not take their goods?'
'As soon as I withdraw the men from gathering this tax, the whole region will go up in flames,' Nikephoros said.
Eumeles shook his head. 'No. You are wrong. As soon as you gather this tax, they will become refugees, homeless men wandering, scrubbing for food. After I beat the barbarians, I will come back and give my soldiers grants of land – big ones, complete with an abject and starving population of serfs. I will have a loyal and stable population of soldiers, the soldiers will, overnight, become prosperous land owners and the fractious peasants will be reduced to slavery – as is best for them. And the only weapon I need use against them is hunger.'
Nikephoros scratched his chin. 'It becomes a matter of timing then, lord.'
Eumeles laughed. 'Yes – and the timing is all mine. Listen – this girl cannot rally the tribes in a matter of days. Before her "army" is formed, we will flood her with useless mouths – Sindi and Maeotae peasants, starving, desperate men. And their useless families. As soon as the money is in, we pay our men, our new troops arrive and we're away after her. We crush her as soon as the ground is dry, and we're done. The peasants have nowhere to turn – and we've changed the basis of landownership. The way it should have been from the first.'
Idomenes nodded. 'It is – well thought out.' He nodded again. 'I acknowledge your – breadth of vision, lord.'
Nikephoros gave half a smile. 'I have to admit that it will go over well with the lads. Gentlemen farmers? What Macedonian boy doesn't fancy that? But I have two issues, lord. First, the kind of campaign you envision against the georgoi – that's the death of discipline. Bad for 'em. Second, these ain't Spartan helots. They have arms – bows, armour, big axes.'
Eumeles nodded. 'Are those military problems?' he asked.
Nikephoros nodded. 'I suppose they are, at that.'
Eumeles sat down again and drank some wine. 'Get me a military solution then. But I need that grain on the docks in a month. And no excuses.'
'What of the brother?' Nikephoros asked. 'Satyrus?'
Eumeles raised an eyebrow at Idomenes. He flipped through his tablets. 'Five weeks ago he was in Alexandria.' Idomenes couldn't help but smile. 'Being treated for dependence on the poppy.' He snapped his tablets closed. 'No more reports.'
'It is winter,' Eumeles said. 'He may have the balls to try again in the spring. He may become a lotus-eater. It matters not. Either way, I'll have crushed the girl in six weeks, and there's nothing he can do to stop me.' Eumeles raised his cup. 'Here's to an end of this petty crap. Here's to the kingdom of the Bosporus.'
Idomenes poured wine for Nikephoros and for himself. They all drank, and only Nikephoros seemed to worry that no libation had been poured.
17
'He's seen us,' Neiron said. He was looking into the late winter sun, and the sparkle on the wave-tops was enough to fool most eyes. 'Coming about.'
Satyrus got a hand on the standing shroud and pulled himself up until he was standing on the rail. The speed of their passage – crisp west wind heeling them over – raised his chiton and he slapped it down.
Far off, almost to the horizon, the other ship's masts were narrowing, coming together.
'Yes,' Satyrus said.
A week on Rhodos and ten days to Byzantium – a meal, a hug from Abraham and from Theron, an exchange of orders and off again, leaving Sandokes and Panther of Rhodos to bring the fleet along after the interval he had commanded. He had hoped to slip by the picket at the Bosporus – indeed, he'd counted on it.
Abraham and Theron had been successful – and that meant that he needed an anchorage in the Euxine – an anchorage to windward of Pantecapaeum. Lysimachos had contributed a mere three triremes and a hundred marines – but his alliance meant a great deal more than that. Theron had done well.
And Demostrate, the pirate king, was still in hand – thanks to Abraham, the old man clasped hands with a wary Panther, as if he had always been a friend of Rhodos. Satyrus had left them watching each other warily.