His eyes flashed, and he yelled to Klopis, “Bar the door, bar it and for the night!” Kuniskos calmed and laughed. “You now. We are a long way from that hill above Leuktra, are we not, my Netike? Netike. Oh, my lovely Netike at last. So lovely after all, in your nakedness, as I dreamed. So much the better for all my waiting. Now in service to the lord of the helots, of your own kind. Now you leave the virgin world of Artemis and will join that of Eros.”
She spat at him. “Kuniskos, a new name for an old monster. You were never drunk. You knew me even in your feigned stupor, liar, dogface.”
“And no doubt, you knew that I did, at first sight when they brought you in, for all your denials of your old lust. You enjoyed our little game as much as I did. No matter. Past is past. For you alone, my Netike, it is Gorgos. Only you can call me that, my old name, in your eros as you groan for your Gorgikos. As I promised, I will brand you not with a kappa for Kuniskos, but you alone with a little gamma no less-a gammikon for the Gorgikos of old and for the sake of the Helikon days and on that soft unspoiled cheek.”
She let out a shriek as the toothless satyr dropped his bright robe. It was the alale, alalale of Helikon, the war cry of Neto of the Malgidai-the paean to Alale, daughter of Polemos. Neto was caught in the lair of Gorgos-no longer the loyal servant of Melon but Kuniskos, the fading lord of the helots. He pulled hard on her roped leg and sent her sprawling to the floor, as he had wanted to for twenty summers on Helikon even under the deathless eye of Melon, who was now far away on the road to Mantineia.
CHAPTER 29
For days Chion had been stuck in this port of the Phokians. He was drinking the worst of Nemea’s red wine and eating squid and cuttlefish by the fire with the helot rowers, pledged to protect the effort of Alkidamas to arrive in Messenia before the army. Five Korinthian triremes still battled the white caps off shore, with ten more arriving as they left. All the time he thought of Neto in the fort of Kuniskos.
“They think we carry gold, not helots,” Gaster swore as he clamored over the deck of the beached Theoris. “Why do these Korinthian pirates keep circling out there? Hey you, Alkidama. Our hull rots, and I’m sick of these shorebird Phokians, worse than thieves. We either break out or hike home and let the Theoris keep rotting.”
Alkidamas scoffed at the fat man. “Settle down and keep eating your oysters. The arm of Agesilaos is not so long anymore. Just be patient. A few more days, a few more coins sent over the Isthmos, and the Korinthians will smile and leave, and we’ll be back out. With these helot rowers, we’ll be there just in time to help with the building of new Messene. These Phokians here are not such bad cooks, anyway.”
Chion had had enough. He left the small hut and glanced back at Alkidamas. “No more wait. Nikon can’t wait. Neto can’t wait. No more sea legs. You meet me wherever this Ithome of yours is. I’ll find it. In five days I’m there before you with a live Neto and the head of your Gorgos.” Chion put a long pole on his shoulder with a bag of rations on the end and set out along the sea. He had little idea of the world outside Thespiai but knew enough to follow the north shore of the gulf for a half day, always west into the setting sun, until he could see the long walls of Patrai looming across the water.
This was real freedom-no wife, no farm to work, no children to raise, just one man in the wild against all others. No wonder men liked war. He knew he did. He forgot Damo, even their son to come, and the three sons of Lophis, with the assurance they’d all be better off after he killed those who needed killing. Yes, he’d take a ferry across the straits to the Peloponnesos, skirt the shoulders of Erymanthos until he reached Olympia, and from there, or so he heard, he’d just hike up the Alpheios. Then take the south fork down to the land of the Messenians. Five days he reckoned and he would be at this Ithome, and before either Epaminondas or the Theoris. He’d put the dragon head of Gorgos in this bag and stuff it with honey to show Melon when he arrived. Maybe Chion would pull the tongue out between the teeth so Gorgos would look like the gorgon he was. As he ran he mumbled to himself, as if Alkidamas was at his side rather than stuck back on the shore of the gulf.
“Neto warned me about the sea, Alkidama, and so I’m leaving the waves to you to find her. I’m a hoplite, a front-rank prostates. I have no worries. I’ve lived too long as it is. No death wish. Better yet, no care. Live or die, freer than any free man. You won’t see me again, only hear of my work. I go into the hills to kill those who would kill our own. Free to kill. You’ll see the good I do you all without the bridle of your law.” With that Chion stopped his talking to himself and went over the hill on his way to Naupaktos and the mouth of the gulf.
Chion went on foot west, and in a day and half saw the torchlights at the eastern gate of Naupaktos on the water. Once back on land and free from the Theoris, he felt better and moved even more quickly than he was accustomed, convinced he could do far better without the leaky boat and the helots of Alkidamas. Already he was at the neck of the gulf. But could he run fast enough to kill Gorgos before he cut off the head of Neto? He would surely be across the water tonight at least, since there were helot boats aplenty down there for hire. He had a full pack of Melon’s coins and hadn’t left much with Alkidamas. No doubt Epaminondas was sweeping down from Sellasia into Lakonia-and here he was not yet into the Peloponnesos.
Then a blast of cold air nearly knocked Chion over as he turned the last switchback of the mountain trail, on the downward slope to the city gate of Naupaktos. The odd wind came in the wrong direction, hard, but blowing from the south. It howled and it brought winter ice in the air. The torches above on the walls of Naupaktos went out with sudden gusts. Where did that come from? Cold blasts on the gulf-but something colder from the south across the water. Was Epaminondas blowing into Lakonia? Or was the gust from Ithome? Chion pressed on and would run for the rest of the night.
Back on Ithome, Erinna was stacking tiles on the roof of her school. The Thespian Chion from Helikon had not arrived as promised. So there was no ransom money for Neto. Only if they had the money, would they learn of the fate of Neto, though most of Erinna’s girls assumed that she was locked inside the compound of Kuniskos, or that her head already was impaled on one of his many trophy stakes. “Nikon-no Chion? No ransom. No silver, and no way inside the house of Kuniskos. And no Neto. We can’t wait any longer.” Erinna pulled a long dagger and slid it into a cotton sheath inside her chiton that she tied close to her waist. “This Chion of yours has gone off with his master’s treasure. Six days after you come and no money. You said he has one arm-but maybe the slow-cart had one leg? Or did the kryptes catch him? Or was his boat sunk by pirates? I go to this camp of Gorgos and free her or kill him-or both.”
Erinna showed Nikon a finely curved leg and picked up her bow-as she looked over at Nikon and said the one would lead Gorgos to the other. Nikon nodded and followed her down from the school, wondering how the Amazon without any silver would get close enough to Kuniskos to free Neto and assuming his own rangers would have to storm in with her. Their small band of four helots made their way over the crest of Ithome. Nikon stopped and pointed to the tamarisks and limestone outcroppings. “Look, soon there will be the great theater. On that hill, there is our Arkadian Gate to come. A stadium will rise down there in the low ground. With stone seats far better than any found at Olympia or Pythia’s sanctuary at Delphi. I’ve heard what this Proxenos promises us and I have his city laid out in my head. When he comes, the new council hall of a free Messene will sit atop the camp of the Spartans.”