sophists from Cilicia who became famous under the emperors, Antiochus and Philagrus, each had a violent temper. The latter would get so angry he could not declaim. Once, in a fit of anger, he went so far as to utter a barbarism.'
Ballista smiled ruefully, and used the papyrus roll with which he was fiddling to indicate to Demetrius to continue.
'It is not just the pepaideumenoi — all the inhabitants have a reputation for being hot-tempered, unwilling to submit to anyone being placed over them. As a province, they often try to prosecute their governors before the emperor. Among themselves, the cities quarrel incessantly. Only the Pax Romana — the boots above their heads — stops them resorting to open violence, if not war.'
Ballista had stopped playing with the papyrus. He looked thoughtful. 'If they are not truly Hellenic but part oriental, and they are unhappy with Roman rule, might some of them side with the Persians? Or might the hatred of one city for another induce it to go over to Shapur?'
Now Demetrius smiled. 'I am sure any of their cities would point out the weak place in their neighbour's wall rather than be sacked themselves. But a Sassanid monarch is more alien to them than a true Hellene or a Roman.'
'Then why do they not fight?' Ballista was thinking aloud. 'Admittedly, Alexandria was taken by surprise, but at Katabolos they fled the walls, and here at Aegeae it appears traitors opened the gates.'
'There may be two reasons, Kyrios,' Demetrius replied. 'You remember how at Antioch, a few years ago in the time of troubles, some of the poor, encouraged by a man called Mariades, betrayed the city to the Persians? It might be much the same in Cilicia. Here in the cities of the plain, the poor are oppressed. They hate the rich, and the feeling is reciprocated. Many years ago the great philosopher Dio of Prusa endeavoured to persuade those who controlled Tarsus to give citizenship to the poor they call the linen workers. Eventually they got the title, but by all accounts they remain as downtrodden as ever.'
All air of distraction had vanished from Ballista. 'That may explain the treachery at Aegeae, but not the cowardice at Katabolos.'
'The plains of Cilicia Pedias are soft and fertile.' Demetrius, like his kyrios, could come at things from an angle. 'Wheat, sesame, dates, figs, vines — all grow in abundance. The streets of the towns groan with the sound of wagons laden with fruit and vegetables. A soft place breeds soft men,' Demetrius concluded in Herodotean mode.
Ballista nodded. 'True, they are unaccustomed to fighting.'
'No, Kyrios, it is much worse than that: they snort.'
'They what?'
'Snort.' Demetrius waved his hands about, palms up. 'You know, they snort.'
As Ballista clearly did not know, Demetrius, using one finger, adjusted his hair with elaborate care.
In the face of Ballista's continuing non-comprehension, Demetrius tried a more obvious tactic. He bent slightly forward, looked over his shoulder and made a sudden noise halfway between a man snoring and the squeal of a stuck pig.
'Ah,' Ballista laughed, 'that sort of snort.'
This was embarrassing. Demetrius knew that his kyrios, like Calgacus and Maximus, was aware of the ways he found his physical pleasure. But, apart from some occasional, oblique teasing, it was not something mentioned within the familia.
Straightening up hurriedly, Demetrius rushed on. 'It is not just the men, the women do it too.'
Ballista was still laughing.
'They are all totally without restraint. Luxury, improper jests, insolence; they give more thought to their fine linen than to wisdom. Here in Aegeae, in the very temple of Asclepius, the holy man Apollonius of Tyana met a one-eyed Cilician — '
'Thank you, Demetrius,' said Ballista.
Although his run of thoughts had been broken, Demetrius continued his flustered diatribe. 'Of course, that is just those from the lush lands of Cilicia Pedias. The hill men of Cilicia Tracheia are very different. All brigands and pirates. All killers.'
Ballista held up his hand. 'Thank you.' The laughter had gone from his eyes. 'I think I will read now.' Ballista swung his legs up on to the bed and unrolled the papyrus to find his place.
As he made to leave, Demetrius risked a glance at what Ballista was reading. It was Euripides, the Medea, the tragedy in which Jason breaks his oath to Medea and she, without losing the favour of the gods, kills their innocent sons. It was hard to think of worse reading for a man in Ballista's position.
Ballista stood at the top of the small stone theatre in the town of Sebaste. He had not chosen the location solely to wrongfoot the man he was to meet, although that would not be unwelcome. In every port at which the fleet had moored since it sailed west from Aegeae, Ballista had sought out a good vantage point from which to assess the town's defences.
The heart of the city of Sebaste was spread out below him. The island, as it was called, although clearly it had never been other than a promontory, stuck out into the sea like the blade of an axe. The south-western harbour was only partly sheltered. It lay outside the walls and was little more than a beach on which longshore fishermen drew up their boats. To the north-east, the island curved back, nearly meeting the shoreline. The main harbour here was almost completely enclosed. Ballista had noted it was silting up with the prevailing current from the east.
The island was walled. A chain which could be lowered and raised stretched across the north-eastern harbour mouth to the first tower of the land walls. These ran away to Ballista's left, out of sight. He knew they encircled the mainland extension of the town, including the theatre where he stood and the civic centre, public baths and agora below him. The walls did not look as if they had undergone any work for a number of years but still seemed essentially sound. Some high ground overlooked the landward walls. On all the roads into Sebaste, a jumble of suburban villas and tombs screened the approaches. There was no artillery. Despite all this, the town was basically defendable. There was no internal source of fresh water, and the aqueduct could be cut, but there were plenty of cisterns. The granaries contained food for several weeks. All in all, there was no pressing reason why the citizens of Sebaste should not hold out when the Persians reached the port.
Yet Ballista was not hopeful. Since he had left Aegeae, the Persians had taken Mopouestia, Mallos, Adana and the provincial capital, Tarsus. A despatch boat had just brought him the news that a detachment of about three thousand had now pressed ahead and seized Zephyrion. As far as he could ascertain, there had been no real reason any of these cities should have fallen either. Zephyrion was not much over forty miles away.
Things were not going well. Admittedly, when the warships had rejoined him, they had brought Ballista the news that Demosthenes and his five hundred men had marched north from Tarsus before the Persians had arrived. With luck, the Cilician Gates were now garrisoned. But everything else was bad.
Dropping anchor at Soli for his rendezvous with the governor of Cilicia, Ballista had been disappointed. Voconius Zeno was not there. He had fled west, leaving behind a letter in which he denounced Quietus and Macrianus the Younger as rebels and accused their father Macrianus the Lame of being the chorus master behind them. Zeno said he had gone to join the legitimate ruler Gallienus. With several nice turns of phrase, the departing governor had encouraged all other officials likewise to hasten to throw themselves on the clementia of the true emperor. Ballista had thought, sourly, if only it were that simple — if only his wife and sons were not in Antioch, effectively held as hostages by the rebels.
In any case, Zeno had gone, and now Ballista had to deal with this man Trebellianus here at Sebaste. He had been suggested by Macrianus's man Ragonius Clarus. 'Yes, Trebellianus is a local, from Cilicia Tracheia. But we must never hold a man's origins against him. And, with Trebellianus, it could well prove most useful in dealing with some of the wilder elements in the rough country. Trebellianus is a man of honour, wealth and influence. Right at the beginning, he wrote pledging his support to Macrianus the Younger and Quietus. He stands high in the regard of the young emperors, and Macrianus the Elder himself will have no qualms if Trebellianus were to be appointed acting governor of Cilicia. Rather the reverse — who knows what form his disappointment might take?'
It was a suggestion that Ballista could not ignore. But even the briefest and most superficial investigation — by Demetrius in the houses of the councillors of Sebaste and by Maximus and Calgacus in the bars of the waterfront — had revealed much to bring disquiet. Not least that Trebellianus was commonly referred to as 'the Arch-pirate'. Given the nature of the inhabitants of Cilicia Tracheia, it was little surprise that the title was most often given with
