He's put some mates of mine under the waves, and I'll repay him in time. But Eumeles used to be a creepy lad named Heron, and he had me exiled.'
Satyrus grinned and shot to his feet. 'Zeus's – that is, Poseidon's balls! You're Demostrate of Pantecapaeum!'
'Aye, lad, that I am!' the old man said. He had a pleasant voice, not at all the gravelly rasp that his face would lead a man to expect.
'You were my father's admiral!' Satyrus said. His smile filled his face as he saw the possibilities – and the dangers. For this was a truly dangerous man – a man who'd refused alliance with any of the parties in the struggle of the Diadochoi, who preyed on all comers.
He sat down, his right hand automatically loosening his sword in its sheath, and rested his shoulders against the wall. His right hand cradled his injured left arm.
'Not really.' The old man shrugged. 'Nah. Nothing so fancy. I covered the coast for him one summer while he made war on the Macedonians. And the next year I guarded his merchantmen while they moved his army. To be honest, lad, it was dull, dull work for a sailorman, and damn little plunder.' He shrugged, and the gold beads in his locks winked. He had heavy amber earrings. 'So – how'd you come to get beaten?'
Satyrus was suddenly struck by the fitness of it – that Demostrate was talking to him – his father's ally. Who hated Eumeles for his exile. Of course, Leon would never stomach alliance with the man who controlled the entrance to the Propontis and preyed on every merchant who didn't buy his favour.
Clearly time to start thinking like a king.
'Sheer folly,' Satyrus said. As he spoke, Diokles shouldered a man aside and sat heavily next to Satyrus on the bench. 'And bad intelligence.'
'Tell it,' Demostrate said. He motioned for a man to bring wine. 'The lads like a good sea-fight story. What do you drink?'
'Wine,' Satyrus said, and got a ripple of chuckles and smiles from the hard men packed around him. 'I've had a long eight weeks.' He looked around. 'Where should I start? We heard that Eumeles had two dozen ships, and we headed north with twenty – not to fight him, but simply to land at Olbia.'
'Aye, where yer father was archon. Olbia would be yours just by landing there. I understand that.' Demostrate nodded.
'Eumeles knew we were coming,' Satyrus said. 'He was in the mouth of the Borysthenes with eighty ships. When we retreated, he followed and forced us to battle against the coast, eighty ships to twenty.'
Mutters, whispers and a catcall from the men around him. Demostrate merely turned his head and the silence returned. 'The battle story I've heard – from Daedalus of Halicarnassus. He says you fought well. Care to tell it?'
Satyrus shrugged. 'Not well enough to win, or to rescue my uncle.'
Demostrate nodded. A boy came up with a heavy bronze wine krater and cups. He put them on the table and served the wine. Demostrate poured a full cup on the floor. 'Not in the sea!' he said as he poured his libation.
Dozens of voices echoed his prayer.
Satyrus took a cup and drank, and it was good Chian wine – as good as anything on a dandy's table in Alexandria. 'Welcome to my town, Satyrus son of Kineas,' Demostrate said, still standing.
'Care to buy a pair of small triremes?' Satyrus asked. 'They have a little worm, but nothing a pirate king can't fix with his arsenal.'
Men laughed, but Demostrate sat and laughed louder. 'They're mine now, don't you think?'
Satyrus shrugged. 'By that logic, your life is mine now, don't you think?' Without shifting his weight, his right hand, which had been cradling his left arm, reached over it and he drew the short sword from under his arm in the motion practised a thousand times – the blade out, the tip precisely at the bridge of the pirate's nose.
Demostrate didn't move. 'Now that's a point of what people call philosophy, don't you think? I can possess myself of your ships, but you can only take my life. You can't keep it.' The old man grinned. 'And thankless as these scum are, I don't think you'd live long to brag of it.'
Satyrus was proud that, despite the last eight weeks and everything he'd been through, the point of his sword wavered less than a finger's width. 'The thing is that if you take my ships, I have absolutely nothing to lose.'
'You'd be killing the young Jew here and your helmsman, too. Maybe every man in your crews.' Demostrate still didn't move.
'That's a risk I'm willing to take,' Satyrus said. 'The last eight weeks have taught me quite a bit about the price of kingship.'
'So you'd sacrifice your own friends and your whole life for the gratification of instant revenge,' the pirate said.
Satyrus shrugged but his sword point did not. 'No. I'd wager my own life and that of my friends that you are a reasonable man. With the full knowledge that if my bluff was called, I'd have to pay the wager. Revenge,' and here, Satyrus shrugged again, and his point twitched as his hand tired, 'is a luxury I can't yet afford.'
'I won't bargain while you threaten me, lad. It'll look bad for the scum.' Demostrate met his eye and winked.
Satyrus sheathed his sword with the same economy of movement he'd used to draw it. 'Replace the ram on my Black Falcon and you can have both ships and all the men that rowed them,' Satyrus said. There it was. The knuckle bones were rolled.
The silence was as thick as the smell. Satyrus had time to think of how much his arm hurt, and to wonder if he was about to be relieved of the pain – for ever.
'Find us a base in the Euxine and we'll rip Eumeles a new arsehole together,' Demostrate said. 'Every city on the Euxine is closed to me.' He shrugged, rose to his feet. 'I like him. What of you lot?'
The two hundred laughed and muttered – no roars of acclaim, but few hoots of derision, either.
The old man leaned down. 'Finish the wine and my compliments, lad. You've all winter to get a new ram – and I'm quite happy to have a new pair of light triremes, although I have the better of the deal. But I have thirty ships that can stand in the line of battle with you, and maybe I know where there's more. Right now, you need to sleep.'
Satyrus nodded heavily. 'T hanks,' he said.
Most of the two hundred men followed Demostrate out of the arched door, and Satyrus was left in a dockside tavern with Diokles, Abraham and Theron, who had lurked at the edge of the door.
'Leon hates him,' Theron said.
Satyrus gulped wine. What he needed was water, and the wine went straight to his head.
'Where are our men?' Satyrus asked.
'Drunk as lords, somewhere dry,' Diokles said. 'I promised a muster for pay tomorrow. Do you have coin?'
'Not a silver owl,' Satyrus said. 'However much Leon hates this man, I suspect his credit is good here.'
Abraham leaned forward. 'I'm made of money. I have silver to hand and I can get more.' He raised an eyebrow. 'Even though you just wagered my life.'
Diokles shook his head. 'Demostrate! I thought we'd all be gutted on the spot.'
'We may yet,' Satyrus said. 'I liked him.'
Theron sighed. 'He's a hard man, Satyrus. You think you're hard?'
'I suspect he'll keep a deal when he makes one,' Satyrus said.
'He left Lysimachos high and dry two years back, you'll recall,' Theron shot back. 'Bought and paid for, he deserted – and took this town. From Lysimachos. Who hates him. Whose alliance you crave. And Amastris? Her father Dionysius, whose alliance you desire, hates this pirate for closing his trade.'
Satyrus nodded. He was drunk on two cups of wine. His arm throbbed, and he was high on the adrenaline of having drawn on the greatest pirate in the world – and lived. 'Tomorrow,' he said unsteadily. 'Abraham, do you have a bed for me?'
Abraham put an arm around his shoulders. 'You poor bastard. I didn't think he'd come the moment you landed.'
Theron finished his wine. 'He wanted to find you weak. To see what you are made of. Satyrus, it's the law of the wild, here. It's like living with lions. If you bind yourself to these men, you are outside the laws of men.'
