‘He’s not really the hipparch,’ Kineas said. He explained why and revisited the conversation.
Diodorus looked thoughtful. ‘I think I see where this is going.’
‘You are not the only thinker here, Diodorus. I can see through a brick wall in time. The archon is trying to appoint me so that he can usurp yet another power of the assembly. I see that.’ Kineas gestured with his wine cup. ‘And then he uses me to keep the rich men in line.’
Diodorus nodded. ‘Worse than that, really. I think he expects to use you to cull some of the rich — those who conveniently break the muster laws, for instance, will doubtless be arrested, tried, and exiled — or worse. But you may have ruined that by warning them. The worst of it is, though, that the archon no doubt plans to use the Hippeis as hostages.’
Kineas choked on his wine. ‘Hostages?’
‘Certainly. Once they are under your command, he can threaten to send them off — to fight, to patrol — he’ll have control of them. Remember — there is no assembly, no council — this man can make war and peace on his own word. He can send these rich men out of their city on the pretence of public service, and keep them out as long as he likes.’ Diodorus drank the rest of his wine and wiped his mouth. ‘Really, I’m surprised no one has thought of it before.’
‘Gods help us all if you ever achieve political power,’ said Kineas.
‘It’s nice to have my skills admired. I’m going to bed. But I have another point to raise,’ Diodorus looked at his wine cup as if the design surprised him.
‘Go ahead.’ Kineas rubbed his chin, which didn’t seem to have enough hair on it.
‘Philokles.’
‘Is he a problem? I thought everyone liked him.’
‘He’s good company. But he comes and goes — Ares’ balls, it’s hard to put a finger on this. He’s out most of the time, and he’s not whoring. I think he’s got some business of his own.’ Diodorus shrugged. ‘I don’t mean to spy on him, but…’
Kineas swirled the wine in his cup. ‘I’ll think about it. I don’t watch any of you — I try not to know who’s got a lover and who might drink too much. You’re suggesting what — that Philokles is a spy?’
Diodorus looked at his wine for a long time. ‘I don’t know what I’m suggesting. He clearly didn’t want to be seen coming into the city — remember?’
Kineas nodded. ‘The atmosphere of this place is going to get to us all. Let’s allow the Spartan to live his own life for a while.’
Diodorus nodded, but he was clearly unconvinced.
‘Diodorus,’ said Kineas. ‘Thanks. I’m happy to be told — I don’t always see things the way you do. And sometimes, no action is the best action.’
Diodorus frowned. ‘I’m beginning to suspect that everyone here has a secret. I’d best go find one of my own.’
PART II
‘His people along the sea-shore took their joy in casting the discus and the javelin, and in archery; and their horses each beside his own car, eating lotus and parsley of the marsh, stood idle…’
7
The autumn feast of Apollo, the Paenopsion, was a noisy festival. A day of sacrifices and feasts was followed, at least in Olbia, by an evening torchlight parade of children holding aloft the produce of the city and garlands of a special wheat cake made in the form of Apollo’s lyre. As they walked, they sang.
The Eiresione bears rich cakes and figs and honey in a jar, and olive oil to sanctify yourself, and cups of mellow wine that you may drink and fall asleep.
When full dark fell, the parade gave way to dancing, drinking and horse races. Kineas thought the sacrifices were too showy; someone had spent a great deal of money on elaborate pageantry. The archon appeared only at the great sacrifice, closely guarded by Memnon and fifty soldiers.
Most of Kineas’s men attended, wearing their best off-duty clothes and mingling with the city’s elite. Ajax made his first public appearance in Olbia’s society and was immediately at the centre of a circle of admirers — his beauty drew them regardless of his status as a mercenary and their political factions. Kineas didn’t need to stand near the boy to watch the ripple of comment as the admirers discovered who the boy’s father was — most Olbian traders did business with Isokles of Tomis.
In fact, his men circulated so freely that Kineas found himself virtually alone at the torch race, attended only by the Getae boy, Sitalkes. He didn’t have an urge to break into a new group and he couldn’t see Nicomedes or any of the local men he had met. Coenus was visible taking bets, but his new friends were not Kineas’s sort.
Kineas began to wander through the crowd. He considered going home. He wanted to find Cleitus, but the man didn’t seem to be in attendance. Kineas saw Philokles shout a greeting to someone in the torch-lit gloom and was envious. Philokles made friends easily.
Cleitus was, of course, entering a horse in the race. Kineas felt like a fool for failing to realize that every wealthy horse owner would put up a horse. He walked down to the edge of the track around the temple and pushed through a crowd of slaves and workers, all staring at the horses and trying to work out the best wagers.
When he found the not-quite Hipparch, he called, ‘Good fortune to your horse, Cleitus.’
‘The blessing of Apollo on your house,’ Cleitus replied. ‘She’s so skittish I’m afraid she won’t run. Doesn’t like the crowd.’
Kineas watched two slaves hold the mare while she tossed her head and rolled her eyes. ‘Is she trained to the torches?’
‘Before this, I’d have said she was immune to fire.’ Cleitus shrugged, clearly unwilling to solicit advice, but at his wit’s end.
Kineas watched her again. ‘Put blinders on her, as the Persians do.’
Cleitus shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
Kineas bent down so that his head was level with the Getae boy’s. ‘Run and find me a piece of rawhide — at least this big.’
Sitalkes screwed up his face in thought. ‘Where getting this thing I am, sir?’
Kineas shrugged. ‘I have no idea. It’s a difficult task. Surprise me. Or, run to Ataelus at our stable and get some from him.’ The boy was off before he finished speaking. ‘I’ll also need a knife and some thread,’ Kineas shouted after him.
Cleitus watched his mare try to rear. ‘I don’t know. Better to scratch my name off than to injure her. And the race will start as soon as the sun’s rim goes below a certain mark — too soon.’
‘Try my way. If the boy doesn’t make it back, you can always scratch then.’ Kineas watched the horse — a beauty, with a deep chest and proud head — and added, ‘Scratching would be ill fortune indeed at a temple festival.’
‘Too right,’ said Cleitus. ‘In the meantime, I’ll try something of my own.’ Cleitus called for a slave and they began to rub the horse down together, murmuring endearments. Kineas was glas to see Cleitus working himself —
