Callias scratched his head. “But you told me Glaucon confessed, and you didn’t believe him.”
“Glaucon confessed to killing Hippias. When I mentioned the girls, he acted like he’d never heard of them. But that had to be false, because he was the first one to read the report Sabina sent to Athens. Glaucon lied to me. He took credit for a killing he didn’t commit, and then denied all knowledge of the perfidy he did commit.”
“Raiders! Raiders!”
The voices came from outside. Girls screamed.
“Dear Gods, it’s happening again,” Thea whispered.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I was first out the door, but only because I was closest. Sabina was right behind me. Everyone piled out behind us in an untidy heap.
Sabina ran to the end of the bridge. She stood there, staring open-mouthed. On the other side, about to cross, were men, ten or more, and they were armed with spears. Bringing up the rear was-
“Is that Glaucon?” Callias said, shocked.
“It is,” I said.
“Amazing how he arrives just as he’s revealed to be the murderer.”
“Isn’t it.” My mind was working furiously, and no doubt so was Diotima’s. We exchanged looks, and I knew we were thinking the same thing.
To a man, the temple slaves rushed to the bridge to defend it, and to a man, they went down. The attackers had been prepared for the first rush. Three of the slaves took spear thrusts to the stomach. They rolled on the ground in agony. The other two slaves weren’t so badly hurt. They turned and ran. I couldn’t blame them. No one expects a slave to die for his owners; that they’d tried to protect the girls at all was to their credit.
But now we were exposed.
“Get the girls into the stoa!” It was Gaïs. Everyone looked at her in shock. For possibly the first time in her life, Gaïs had said something that made sense.
Gaïs spread her arms like a net and pushed the girls back into the stoa. Doris joined her. The girls heeded them and ran for cover.
“What do we do now?” Aposila asked.
“We fight,” Gaïs said.
“What have we got to fight with?” I asked Zeke.
“Nothing,” he said bluntly. “This is a sanctuary, not a barracks.” Zeke turned and ran. I stared in shock for a moment. I hadn’t expected that.
I said, “Diotima, take your bow and get up on the roof. Lie low and pick off targets when you see an opportunity.”
“No, Nico. I’ll stay here and-”
“Don’t argue with me,” I said, and I meant it. “I don’t have time to deal with it. Get up there and shoot.”
Diotima blinked, and looked at me as if she’d never seen me before. Then she said, “Yes, Nico.”
I hauled the sanctuary’s only ladder from where it lay against the shed and set it against the back wall of the main building. As I did, Diotima picked up the skirt of her chiton to stuff the material beneath her belt so that her bare feet were clear to climb. She hooked her sleeves over the brooches at her shoulders and scampered up. I handed up her bow and every arrow she owned.
“Are you safely up?”
“Yes, Nico.”
I pulled the ladder away to let it fall to the ground. I grabbed the sanctuary’s axe and used it to smash every rung of the ladder. Good. Even if the enemy broke in, Diotima would be out of their reach.
I dropped the axe to return to the bridge. As I did Aposila ran up from behind, grabbed the axe and followed me. She’d die instantly if it came to real combat, but there was no time to argue with her. Besides, Aposila wasn’t Diotima; Aposila wasn’t my problem.
“I’m ready.” Aeschylus strode into the courtyard. He was dressed in his hoplite armor: the huge round shield painted with the face of a snarling gorgon, the sharp spear in his right hand, and the helmet that covered his face and made him look like a remorseless automaton.
Except that I knew different.
“You can’t be serious,” I blurted. “You’re a sixty-five-year-old man.”
“So am I,” Zeke returned. “And I too am ready for combat.” From wherever he’d hidden them all these years, Zeke had retrieved the dress of his former life, an officer of the Persian Immortals. He wore heavy scale armor of a type I’d only ever seen in Ionia, where the Persians ruled: hundreds of small metal plates attached to a leather jerkin. In his right hand, he wielded the sword I’d retrieved from the Sacred Spring. It had lost the leather of its handle, but that wouldn’t stop a veteran. In his left he held a wicker shield.
Callias had nothing but his dagger. He drew this and stood beside them in the only order that made sense for the armaments they carried: Zeke on the left with his smaller shield, Aeschylus in the middle where his large hoplon gave them the best protection, and Callias in the place of honor on the right, where the dagger in his right hand was free to strike. Aeschylus called the time.
“March!”
They marched.
It was ludicrous.
They were going to be slaughtered. The greatest playwright the world had ever known was about to die, and when it happened, Pericles was going to blame me.
Then I reflected that these were heroes of Marathon, even if Zeke had been on the other side. These three ancient men would fight until they’d been torn to shreds, and even then, with their last breath they’d struggle to win.
The veterans didn’t break step. They met the enemy on the green verge of the sanctuary’s lawn. They clashed their shields against the invaders, then with great shouts to unnerve their opponents they sought to drive their swords through the enemy shield wall. The weapons bounced. The brigands tried the same, but nor could they find a gap. After that both sides settled to the deadly business of armored combat.
Glaucon stood behind the line of raiders and urged them on. He made no attempt to help his men. A look at the attackers told me they were mercenaries. Hellas was full of them, all looking for work. These ones were armed with shield and spear and probably short sword for emergencies. The shield barrier made it hard for our men to touch them.
I looked for some way I could come at Glaucon.
“Callias is dead!” one of the women screamed.
I whirled around.
Callias was thoroughly unconscious. Blood flowed from his head. Aeschylus and Zeke fought on. I thought about carrying Callias to cover, then realized there was no point. If we lost here, no one was safe.
Gaïs took Ophelia by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. She said, “Ophelia, if those men break in here, even if we’re still alive, especially if they kill the men but capture us priestesses, you’re to lead all the girls to the farm where you hid. Can you find it again?”
“Yes, Gaïs,” Ophelia said.
Gaïs kissed Ophelia on the lips. “Good girl.”
When the brigands had decided to attack a girls’ school, they probably hadn’t expected to face heavy infantry. Their surprise told in the caution of their attack. I knew it was only two old men, but the raiders didn’t: the armor covered the faces and chests of Aeschylus and Zeke, and anything else that might give away their age. Certainly neither of them moved like old men. I could see the slowness of their counter-strokes, but only because I was looking for it.
But their skill would eventually count for little when it was two against so many. They gave ground; it was only a matter of moments before they were flanked. Aeschylus and Zeke turned to fight back to back, each moving in one fluid motion. My old drill instructor would have smiled to see it.
An arrow flew over my head. It came from behind. Diotima had found her perch, and now she was trying for targets. The first shot missed, but her second elicited a painful yell from someone in that melee.
I had to do something to help, but with only my dagger and no armor to protect me, I knew that like Callias I wouldn’t stand for long. I needed a better weapon.