Diokles, who made sacrifice at the Temple of Zeus Casios, the conqueror of the oceans. The sacrifices were public knowledge and led to a certain amount of gossip – more, when they began laying in stores of amphorae and purchasing supplies – and cargoes.
Byzantium was glutted with grain – the result of the repeated seizure of cargoes coming down the Euxine from Olbia, Pantecapaeum and the northern grain fields. War galleys make poor cargo ships, but the Golden Lotus with her three and a half oar decks and deeper draught was designed to fight and carry cargo, and he at least could take a respectable amount of grain.
The other crews mocked Neiron as he loaded the Lotus. Most of his men were former captives, and they did not bear the taunting well, lacking the discipline of the old crew. There were fights.
There were worse than fights, as it turned out that some of the grain was rotten, or rat's dung, and Neiron felt that he'd been taken. He remonstrated with a merchant, who laughed in his face and snapped his fingers. 'You bought it,' the merchant said.
Another day and one of Neiron's senior rowers was killed – gutted in the agora by one of Manes' men.
Satyrus complained to Demostrate, who told him that he should look to his own.
Manes' men began to prowl close to the warehouse, smashing the Lotus's boats when they were left on the beach and beating any oarsmen from the Lotus that they caught alone.
The new crew of the Lotus grew more and more resentful – first, that they were treated so, and second, that their enemies received no punishment. By contrast, Manes' men grew louder and more determined.
A careful observer might have noticed that neither Abraham nor any of the veteran crewmen of the original Black Falcon were anywhere to be seen, on the streets or in the wine shops. They played no role in the fighting and they suffered no indignities.
Four days after the new captains made their sacrifices, Satyrus attended another symposium – this one considerably less colourful than the last. He lay on the same couch as Daedalus. The Halicarnassian seemed surprised to find him there.
'I heard that you were lading your ships,' he said. He was more than a little distant.
Satyrus ate a grape. 'Listen,' he said, 'tomorrow there will be some trouble. I'm keeping you clear of it. After tomorrow, I'd like to invite you to return to my table – and my council.'
'After the trouble? This isn't a bid for my aid against Manes?' Daedalus asked, clearly incredulous. 'He's out for your blood, lad. Your uncle would have my arse if I didn't help you.' He shook his head. 'I've expected a message from you for a week.'
'After the trouble,' Satyrus said. 'I'll explain tomorrow. For the moment, it would be enough if you'd give me a good, sharp shove off the kline.'
'Are you a fool? I'm most of what is standing between you and Manes ripping your guts out!'
Satyrus had to smile – Daedalus, the mercenary, was living up to his high reputation as a man who, once bought, stayed bought. 'I know that,' Satyrus said. 'Believe me, you don't want to be involved,' he said.
Daedalus shook his head. 'But after tomorrow, you'll explain?'
'By this time tomorrow, it'll all be clear as a new day at sea,' Satyrus said.
Daedalus shook his head. And put his elbow into Satyrus's gut, shoving him brutally to the floor, so that Satyrus's chiton was fouled with old wine and worse.
'Keep your juvenile plotting,' the mercenary growled.
Satyrus hoped that he was acting. He got up, rubbing his ribs – that was real enough – and slunk back to his own couch. On the way, Manes glared at him with his bestial glare, and Satyrus avoided his eye.
'Look,' Manes growled. 'It's the prisoner! Buying grain for a long captivity, boy?' he asked, and his own adherents laughed.
Satyrus stepped back, putting more distance between Manes and himself. 'I'm no man's prisoner,' he said. His voice wasn't as firm as the other pirates would have liked to hear, and there was some mockery.
'We'll see in the morning,' Manes said. He laughed. 'What a ransom you'll fetch!'
'I'm a captain, not a prisoner. Talk to Demostrate if you doubt my word,' Satyrus said.
'Your word is worthless here, captive.' Manes looked around. 'And Demostrate is a captain among captains. If he spurns your ransom, the more fool he.' Manes laughed, a hard sound for most men to hear.
Satyrus appeared to force himself to stand firm. 'Prove it,' he said mildly. 'Fight me.'
Manes sat up. 'Fuck you, boy. I may bugger you in the street, if I want.'
'Afraid of me?' Satyrus asked, conversationally. Now, the tide was turning. Men didn't mock Manes, and this was too rich.
Manes swung his feet off his couch. 'I fear nothing. Not you, not Demostrate, not Rhodos. I am the terror of the coasts, the lord of the sea.'
Satyrus gave him a mocking bow. 'Really? So – you'll fight!'
Manes reached for his sword and Satyrus's fingers ached for his own hilt. Manes was terrifying and his arms were long. If he drew first…
Ganymede reached out and touched his master's arm and whispered in his ear.
Manes stopped, and breathed deeply. 'I do not need to fight you, boy.'
Satyrus gave the beast a mocking smile. 'I think you'll find that you'd have done better to fight me,' he said.
Manes growled, and the hair stood up on Satyrus's neck.
Demostrate was watching, but he took no action. Again Ganymede took his master's arm, and this time he whispered furiously in his master's ear. Manes shook him off, but then he turned his back on Satyrus and stomped off, head high.
'Coward,' Satyrus said, loud and clear.
Manes paused, his foot actually in the air, and then took the next step. He walked from the symposium, accompanied by a roar of comment.
Satyrus grinned at the other drinkers, and then headed after him. He didn't follow Manes all the way to the outside door – he was quite sure what reception would greet him there. Instead, he walked down the slave stairs and through the kitchen, emerging from the slave entrance straight into the midst of Apollodorus's marines, who ran him through the streets to Abraham's. They battened down the hatches. Despite all of Satyrus's precautions, Manes made no provocative move during the night.
'By Apollo, that man scares me,' Satyrus said, as he sipped hot wine. The sun was still under the lip of the world, but the warehouse was lit from end to end as the sailors prepared to man the Lotus.
'He is one of those men who seem to be greater, or less, than human,' Theron said.
Satyrus nodded. 'He must die. When he goes down at my hand, there will be no more tests – no more humiliations, and no more slave girls on my couch.'
Theron shook his head. 'Lad, you are about to try to kill a monster to avoid having to make love to beautiful women. I don't have to be Philokles to point out the fallacy of your position.'
Satyrus didn't turn his head. 'I will not be mocked about this.'
Theron shrugged. 'We go to dice with Moira,' Theron said. 'I won't offend you more.'
Satyrus nodded. 'Good. Are we ready?'
'We're ready. You are sure he will attack us?' Theron asked. He closed the last clasp on his breastplate.
'Short of leading him on a rope, I've done all I can to provoke his attack. His minion spent the last minutes of the symposium reminding him that he was going to kill me in the morning, and there was no need to risk himself in the night. It must be now. We've all but advertised our sailing time.' Satyrus shook his head.
'Who are you reassuring?' Theron asked.
'Myself,' Satyrus said. 'He terrifies me. But this must be done.'
'Would it make you feel better if I said you were like a force of nature yourself?' Theron asked.
Satyrus nodded. 'Yes,' he said, and smiled. Satyrus need not have worried. They were two streets from the beach when he saw the two-wheeled cart pushed across the narrow street and men with torches began to fill the space around his column of sailors.
Satyrus was at the head of the column, with Theron and Neiron. He stopped. He was in full armour and had an aspis on his shoulder. His helmet was already closed over his face.
'Satyrus!' Manes roared. He stepped out from a side street. 'Throw down your weapons. Or I'll kill all your men.'
