‘My lord, I can tell you more than that — I can relate to you what conversation Artaphernes had with Diomedes of Ephesus,’ he said. ‘But then I will require your oath, and some reward, because I will be leaving my own lord.’
I was, in my turn, silent. Just by pairing Artaphernes and Diomedes he made my blood run cold and my heart beat fast. In fact, I didn’t really need to know what they said to each other. But the mere idea that they had talked was a terror to me. And the fact that this spy knew my affairs so well that he knew that these two names would affect me meant that, on the one hand, he must be telling the truth, and on the other, than he was appallingly well-informed.
‘Freedom, citizenship in Plataea or Thespiae, and a farm and ten talents of silver,’ I said. ‘But that’s all I can ever offer. Be bought, or do not be bought.’
He moved, and I realised that he — as slave — was holding out his hand for a gentleman’s hand clasp.
I’d been a slave, and I gave it.
‘I give you my word, and my oath to Zeus, Lord of Kings, and Poseidon, my master every day at sea, Horse Tamer and Giant Killer, that I will give you your full reward, citizenship, ten talents of silver, and a good farm, or I shall be accursed, if you will aid me to your fullest in the recovery of the woman I love and the saving of her children,’ I said. I had learned a little about oaths.
‘Wow,’ he said, or words to that effect. ‘Very well, lord. All know you are a man of his word. Here is what I have. Diomedes and Artaphernes are allies in this — they both hate Archilogos and his sister too. Archilogos was to be held as long as possible on the beaches to let Diomedes have the start of him. Artaphernes is racing to Ephesus on the Royal Post, taking the place of the messenger the Great King was sending to Sardis.’
‘Heracles!’ I swore. ‘Artaphernes is putting his revenge on his father’s wife over the Great King’s commands?’
Siccinius shrugged. ‘I find Persians even harder to understand than Greeks,’ he admitted. ‘But he hates her, and he claims she has humiliated him. He means her to die very badly.’
I didn’t need to hear a description.
‘But her brother means to save her?’ I asked.
Siccinius shrugged. Even in darkness, that gesture is unmistakable. ‘You ask me as a spy? I do not know. As a judge of events? I would say that both men fear him. He is one of the most famous warriors in the Great King’s forces. They say that, without him, Miletus would still be free, and they say that his ship scored more kills at Artemisium than any other Ionian or Phoenician.’
I laughed. ‘That’s no surprise,’ I said. ‘He was always best.’
I admit it — I smiled to think that we were about to be on the same side, to rescue his sister.
Half a world at war, and heaps of dead men, oceans of blood, and the three of us were about to be at the centre.
Sometimes, it is like living in the Iliad.
He told me more, everything he knew about the Great King’s plans to abandon Mardonius and run for Susa. I admit it: I doubted what he was telling me as the Xerxes I’d met was far braver than that. I had a hard time imagining any Persian monarch cutting and running on an unbeaten army and a single naval defeat.
But it didn’t matter.
Almost nothing mattered but getting to Ephesus.
‘One more thing,’ he said. ‘If my master knew I was telling you this, I’d be dead.’
I nodded. What more could he tell me?
I saw his head move, his unconscious glance to left and right to make sure that we were not overheard. ‘Xerxes has lost three brothers and two sons in this campaign,’ he said. ‘He’s putting all the rest of his boys on two of the fleet’s fastest ships. They’re running for Sardis via Ephesus. Artemisia is taking two of them, and Diomedes the other two.’
I could see — I still see — the hand of the gods in all of it, and like any good tragedy I had been manipulated by my own needs and desires, and only allowed, now, at the last hour, to know what the stakes were, and what my role might be.
I did not dare even allow myself to imagine what fate Artaphernes had in mind for Briseis. It would be horrible, and it would not allow her either dignity or repute. And I knew Diomedes hated her and was weak enough to seek such a horrid revenge.
Perhaps it says something about me that, until that moment, I had never really considered that either man would exact ‘revenge’, because it’s such a waste of a strong man’s time to do such a thing. But they were both weak men and they needed to hurt something they were strong enough to hurt.
Artemisia was made of different stuff. I wondered if she could be brought to bargain — if she might mislike the killing of another woman. Or perhaps not. Common gender had never stopped me from killing a man.
Let me say one thing more as we head for the finish line in an ugly race. Briseis knew the odds against her — had, in fact, warned me herself. And she was not a poor weak woman who needed my sword arm; that is, she might, but she was the mistress of her own life and her own fate. I knew that, short of outright swordplay, she could probably master Diomedes by politics alone. Artaphernes would be trickier — but I knew she would not go lightly.
I knew that, in the last case, she would kill herself rather than fall into their hands. And that the knife she fell on would be red with the blood of her foes.
But I wanted her alive. At my side. And that was going to take the luck of the gods and some serious planning.
The Royal Post was as fast as the wind. Diomedes was at sea and had a full day head start.
All this was through my head in an instant.
‘I will do as I promised,’ I said. ‘Find me in Hermione in a month, or in Plataea in a year, and I will do my part.’
‘And if you are killed?’ he asked.
I laughed. ‘Then I will have to bear my own curse,’ I said.
In the end, I decided to take all my ships. My people — my oikia, the men who’d been with me for years — they were family, and I was about to tempt the Fates to overthrow me. Indeed, I already had the blackest picture. Diomedes’ head start concerned me most of all.
And besides, Moire and Seckla and Hector, Hipponax and Brasidas — there were petty rivalries among them, but they were also united, and they made it plain to me that they were coming. All of them. My clever plan of a single ship slipping unnoticed through the rout of the Ionians was derided. And probably with good reason.
So instead, I led five other ships.
Cimon was bitter and proclaimed that I would take all the good prizes and leave the seas empty. But he promised to cover me with Themistocles.
One thing more you need to understand. From the beaches east of Cape Zoster there are two equally good routes to Ephesus. A good trierarch can hop from Attica to Andros, and from Andros to Chios, and then drop down into Ephesus — there’s some blue-water sailing there, but not much, and if you know your landfalls, it’s not that difficult. However, autumn was coming on; we were entering the ‘season of winds’ and ships were lost in autumn. A more cautious trierarch or helmsman would stay in with the land and go along Euboea and then nip past Thessaly and Thrake before turning south, with good beaches and mutton all the way. I’ve done both, as you may have noted.
But with Briseis’s life on the line there was no question that I’d take the more direct, riskier path. And with six ships, the risk was lesser in every way — but mostly because I assumed the Phoenicians, the best mariners if not the best fighters, would take that route home and we were going to be sharing the same waters and perhaps the same beaches. With six ships I felt I could realistically handle anything that Ba’al had to offer.
Be that as it may, breakfast was very early. There was no ‘captain’s council’ because my friends presented me with their demands. Moire and Seckla stood in front of the rest, in the dark, and I noticed that for once, Giannis and Brasidas, who were never far from me, were standing with their other friends.