‘Patrols just picked up a soldier,’ he said. ‘Ten local horsemen as guards. An Athenian gentleman. I expected that you’d want to see him.’
Kineas leaned back so far that his stool creaked. ‘Anything to free me from paperwork,’ he said. He went over to the hearth, waving a hand in front of his face and trying not to breathe. He started rebuilding the fire, trying to find the combination of wood and draught that would stop the incessant smoke.
‘Leosthenes of Athens,’ Lycurgus announced, returning.
Kineas had an actual flame going. He brushed off Leon’s attempts to take over — the boy reverted to being a house slave too easily — and coaxed the flame, adding twigs. What he wanted was the tube from his campaign kit, but he didn’t have it. He leaned forward to blow on the fire. Leon blew on it from the other direction. Then both men started coughing and had to turn away to the cold air beyond the fire. Kineas took a lungful of clean air and snatched a hollow quill from the table. He leaned close enough to the embers to scorch his eyebrows and breathed out. The embers began to make the noise — the low moan of wood on the edge of ignition. Both men redoubled their efforts and suddenly the whole pit sprang into flame, as if by magic. Light drove the winter shadows into the corners of the hall, and a rush of heat forced Kineas to take a step back.
‘You don’t look as if you eat babies,’ said a voice in aristocratic Attic Greek.
‘Hard to eat them if you can’t cook them,’ Niceas said.
Leosthenes and Kineas gripped forearms. Kineas smiled, and the other Athenian beamed. Leosthenes was of middle height, well proportioned, with curly black hair and green eyes like a cat. He sat on a corner of the table without invitation. ‘The famous Kineas of Athens,’ he said dramatically.
Kineas rubbed his beard, discovered that he had singed it and winced. He shrugged. ‘Where in Hades did you come from, child?’
‘Three years’ service in Alexander’s army and you call me a child? But suit yourself — I have to deal with all those years of hero worship.’ He turned to the other men. ‘Kineas was Phocion’s star pupil — the best swordsman, the best officer. We all loved him. But he went off to serve Alexander.’ Leosthenes grinned. ‘When I was old enough, I followed you.’
‘By all the gods, it is good to see you, Leo.’ Kineas couldn’t get the grin off his face. ‘Have you been home?’
‘Home?’ Leosthenes asked. He shook his head, and flushed. ‘I haven’t been home. I’ve been to Parthia and back.’
‘Are you rich, then?’ Kineas asked.
‘You know how Alexander uses mercenaries!’ Leosthenes said bitterly. ‘Second-line troops. Garrisons. And the fool never really conquers anywhere, so he always leaves it to the garrisons to do all the nasty bits.’ The younger man shrugged and Kineas could see that in fact most of his youth was gone. There was a set to his shoulders and hollows in his eyes that Kineas hadn’t seen at a glance. ‘You remember Arbela?’
Kineas nodded.
‘Of course you do!’ The younger man turned to the other officers. ‘You were a hero, leading the Greek horse. I was with the hoplites in the second line. We never engaged. Then I spent six months chasing tribesman with Parmenion.’
‘How’d you get here?’ Niceas asked.
‘I was in the garrison at Ecbatana,’ Leo said. ‘Shit’s coming down there. I gathered a few like-minded friends and we ran.’
Kineas looked thoughtful. ‘Deserted,’ he said flatly.
‘It’s going to be war between Parmenion and Alexander,’ Leo said. ‘Not battlefield war — stab-in-the-back war. Parmenion sent me with a message to the king, and I thought I was going to be executed. So — yes. I deserted. With some friends. We took service with one of the Hyrkanian kings — these hills and the lowlands to the south are full of men from Alexander’s armies.’
Kineas caught himself rubbing his beard. ‘Is this a social visit, Leo?’ he asked.
Leosthenes had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘No,’ he said.
Niceas gave a snort.
Kineas turned to Eumenes. ‘Go and get Philokles and Diodorus. Ask Sitalkes to bring us wine.’ He turned to Niceas. ‘I need to buy a slave,’ he said, with irritation. Slaves annoyed him, but he was just too busy to fetch his own wine and get the fire burning.
‘Have you met your employer?’ Leosthenes asked.
He had to notice the intake of breath throughout the room.
‘I get it — you’ve all met her.’ He laughed.
‘Don’t be crude, Leo.’ Kineas smiled, but his voice was hard. ‘I like her.’
Diodorus pushed through the curtains, followed by Philokles, toting a sack of scrolls. ‘We’ve all met her,’ he said wryly. ‘Oh, my. Look who it is! The nursery must be emptying into the phalanx.’
Kineas rose. ‘Leosthenes, son of Craterus of Athens. An old friend.’ Kineas was grinning, which wasn’t his normal look these days. ‘More of an old student, really,’ he said with a glint in his eye.
Leosthenes grinned back. ‘I can take you, sword to sword. Any time, old man.’
Kineas shook his head. ‘I’ve a Persian — Darius — you have to best first. He’s probably better than me.’ He grinned. ‘In fact, I’d like to see it.’
Philokles poured himself wine, and then poured wine for the others and distributed it. The local potters made good cups that fitted the hand, shaped like a woman’s breast with a nipple instead of a base. The joke was that you couldn’t put the cup down — you had to drink your wine. Or at least, that was one of the jokes.
Sitalkes pushed in through the blankets.
‘Would you be kind enough to mull us some hot wine, lad?’ Kineas asked.
The Getae boy went to work without complaint. It was a matter of months since he’d been freed, and he was still happy to serve — if asked politely.
‘So — you’ve met her,’ Leosthenes asked again.
‘Yes,’ said Kineas, into a silence as thick as the smoke had been.
‘And?’ the Athenian persisted.
Kineas shrugged. ‘She’s beautiful. Intelligent. Educated.’
‘Evil incarnate,’ Leosthenes said in a gentle voice.
Kineas shrugged again. He looked around the room. The smoke had mostly cleared.
‘You didn’t fuck her, did you?’ said Niceas. ‘I listened to all that griping and you didn’t fall for her.’
Kineas shook his head wearily. ‘My private life is mine. I am not about to endanger this expedition to satisfy my own lusts.’
Philokles made a face, rose to his feet and bowed. ‘I salute you, philosopher! And apologize. I, for one, thought that you would fall straight into her toils.’
‘Apology accepted,’ Kineas said. ‘Yes, I’ve met her. I wasn’t shown any particular sensuality, but I was made to appreciate her intelligence. She wants us to fight a campaign in the spring. She can pay very well. I’m tempted.’
‘My employer is the target,’ Leosthenes said. ‘I’m here to buy you off.’
Kineas stopped himself from rubbing his beard. ‘What?’
‘She wants southern Hyrkania. Her recent and much-lamented husband held all the land as far as Parthia — she lost a lot of it when she murdered her husband and stayed loyal to Alexander.’ Leosthenes shrugged. ‘I serve Artabazus — Barsine’s father. Alexander’s satrap, not that his writ runs here. He’s a canny old fox. All he has to do is survive until Parmenion kills off Alexander and he’ll be king.’
Kineas nodded, aware that Artabazus had been named as the target of the spring campaign and unwilling to give that much away.
‘And he’s told us a lot about her. She’s not Greek. She’s more like one of the Persian demons — some kind of monster.’ Leosthenes leaned forward, pressing his point.
Kineas sat back. ‘Child, you put me in mind of the tale of the fox and the grapes.’
Leosthenes laughed aloud, his head back. ‘I think you have it right, at that.’ He went on laughing. ‘Persians never read Aesop. They ought to!’ He had to clutch his hands over his stomach.
Kineas stood. ‘Stay for dinner, child. But don’t press me on this. I keep my bargains, and I wouldn’t sit here and banter with your Persian fox were I ten times more a mercenary.’ He nodded, glanced at Niceas. ‘If it weren’t
