more often, and the dead haunt harder.’ He shrugged, as if embarrassed to admit even this much.
‘What can I do?’ Kineas asked.
Helladius shook his head. ‘Obey the will of the gods,’ he said.
Kineas nodded slowly. ‘I do, to the best of my ability.’
‘That is why you would have made us a great king,’ Helladius said. He waited until Kineas was halfway down the steps, just even with the stele for Nicomedes. ‘The gods love you!’ he called, so that every man in the market on the temple steps heard him.
Kineas let a smile wrinkle his mouth. He didn’t answer openly. Quietly, to the stele of Nicomedes, he said, ‘The gods loved Oedipus, too.’ He shook his head at Helladius. To no one at all, he murmured, ‘Look how that turned out.’
5
His first official meeting of the morning was with the Athenian captains. He unfolded the ivory stool and took it outside to the sands of the hippodrome so that he could watch the morning drills while he heard the captains, and Niceas and Philokles stood on either side of him. The admiral of the allied fleet, Demostrate, stood to hand. He was a native of Pantecapaeum, a wealthy merchant, a former pirate and a pillar of the alliance that had defeated Macedon. And like Kineas, he knew that the war was not over.
The Athenian captains were cautious and deeply respectful, which made him smile.
‘Archon,’ their spokesman, Cleander, began, ‘the blessings of all the gods upon your city and your house.’ Cleander knew Kineas of old — they had shared a tutor during early boyhood. But he seemed to feign ignorance, either from respect or fear.
Kineas inclined his head, feeling like an imposter or a play-actor. ‘Welcome to Olbia, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘May Apollo and Athena and all the gods bless your venture here and your journey home.’
They exchanged platitudes, religious and otherwise, for several minutes before Cleander got down to business.
‘We know how hard the war has been on your city,’ he said carefully.
Kineas fingered his jaw. ‘Yes,’ he said.
Cleander glanced at his companions. They were powerful men, the captains of Athens’s grain ships, with large investments in their cargoes, even though none of them was an owner.
‘We ask — respectfully — whether sufficient cargoes to fill our ships will be gathered before the end of the sailing season.’ Cleander flicked a glance at the citadel, which loomed behind Kineas. Do you have enough grain to feed Athens? That was the real question.
Kineas nodded. ‘The war has slowed the flow of grain from the sea of grass,’ he said. ‘Many of the farmers had to leave their farms when the Macedonians advanced. And the allies needed grain to feed their army and to feed the horses of the Sakje.’ This oblique hint — just the lightest suggestion of an alliance between the Euxine cities and the Sakje — caused a rustle among the Athenian captains. ‘Despite this, I am confident that we will raise enough grain to fill your holds. The main harvest will not be in for a month. Your eyes must have told you that the war never came here — that our fields are full of grain, as are the fields on both banks of the river as far north as a boat will float. The grain coming to market now is last fall’s grain, whose sale was interrupted by early storms and the rumour of war. It will trickle in, but the trickle will become a rush after the feast of Demeter.’
Demostrate cleared his throat, and then smiled when he had their attention. ‘All the grain from the Borysthenes will come here to Olbia,’ he said. ‘And my city, Pantecapaeum, will have all the grain from the north that is brought down the Tanais river into the Bay of the Salmon. We are gathering our cargoes even now.’
Cleander smiled, as did the other captains. ‘That is good news indeed. But a month is a long time for our ships to sit idle at wharves. Can you arrange for the grain to come more quickly? In past years, we have filled our ships before the feast of Demeter.’ His tone carried the conviction that for the grain fleet of Athens, no favour was too small.
Kineas locked eyes with Cleander. ‘No,’ he said. ‘There is not enough grain to fill your holds now.’
Cleander spread his hands. ‘Archon, we are not fools. Even now, your market sells grain to the barbarians who camp north of the market — allies from the war. And you buy grain yourself. Send them home, and let us buy the grain. Athens needs the grain — right now.’
Now Kineas smiled. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Cleander, but I think I know more about what Athens needs than you. Athens needs a steady, strong ally on the Euxine, and she needs Alexander kept in his place — not looming over the sea of grass and all the eastern trade. My army needs to eat.’
‘But our ships sit idle,’ Cleander said. ‘Perhaps,’ and he smiled like a man of the world, ‘perhaps you would prefer to sell us some of your private store of grain? You’ve been purchasing it for weeks.’
Kineas appeared to consider this for a moment. ‘That is the city’s grain, not my own. Or rather, the army’s grain, purchased from the sale of the army’s share of the loot of our victory.’
‘Which you could now sell to us at a profit,’ Cleander said.
‘Except that I need that grain to feed the army,’ Kineas countered.
‘The army is home,’ Cleander said. ‘The need for grain is past.’
Kineas frowned. It was deliberate — he meant to intimidate, and he did. All the Athenian captains stepped back.
‘You are in danger of telling me my business, Cleander,’ Kineas said. ‘I need that grain. And…’ he paused for effect, ‘I need your ships.’
Cleander choked.
Kineas smiled and stood up. ‘Cleander. Don’t be a fool. I was born and bred in Athens and I would never harm her or her grain fleet.’
Cleander gave a sly smile. ‘I knew who you were before I left Athens,’ he said. He shrugged. ‘Your Athenian birth might serve only to make you a worse tyrant. Think of Alcibiades.’ He reached into his cloak and produced a scroll. ‘I have a letter for you.’
Kineas frowned. ‘From Lycurgus?’ he asked. It was his faction, and Demosthenes’, that had exiled him and arranged for his service to Olbia.
Cleander shook his head. ‘From Phocion,’ he said. Phocion was Athens’s greatest living soldier. As a general, he had defeated Philip of Macedon, Thebes, Sparta — he was one of the finest soldiers in the world. And he was a friend of Alexander. Kineas had learned his swordsmanship at Phocion’s hands.
He took the letter with something close to reverence.
Cleander laughed. ‘Your father and Phocion were the leaders of the faction that favoured Alexander,’ he said. ‘Imagine! And now you’ve destroyed a Macedonian army!’
Kineas shrugged. ‘Phocion fought Philip, and they were guest friends,’ Kineas said.
Cleander gave a wry smile. ‘What would Polyeuctas say?’
Kineas grinned. Their tutor Polyeuctas, a pupil of Plato, had never ceased to harp on the evils of unfettered Macedonian power — and on the treason of Alcibiades. Despite being a venal man who took too many bribes, he had been a good teacher and an able politician. ‘I think about him all the time,’ Kineas said.
‘And then we heard you were dead,’ Cleander said.
‘Pah! Not so dead,’ Kineas said, and they embraced. ‘Now that I seem less the foreign tyrant, perhaps you would care to lease your ships to me for a month,’ he said. ‘I have a great deal of Macedonian gold at my disposal.’
He outlined his proposition and the Athenian captains began to haggle — he was offering them good money for their time and adding to the value of their cargoes as well, but they saw further margin for profit, and the risk to their ships was real.
Cleander attempted to demand a reduced tax on grain at the dock, but Kineas wouldn’t budge. The grain tax was the city’s greatest revenue, but the possibility of loading large cargoes of the purest Euxine fish sauce fresh from the Bay of Salmon and the guarantee of escort from the navarch of Pantecapaeum sealed the deal. Cleander offered his hand, and they all shook.
‘I hate transporting horses,’ Cleander said, and the other captains agreed.
