fear among the barbarians,' Eumeles said. 'We lose nothing by retreat. At the Tanais, I'll have our new fort at my back, beaches packed with our men and Upazan to counter any landing ashore.' He nodded at Idomenes. 'I recognize that I have not always followed your advice. In this I will, and perhaps in future I will be slower to ignore you.'
Idomenes couldn't hide the smile that crossed his face. And in his head, the god said, 'This is irony. And so hubris is punished.'
*
Satyrus watched his enemy's ships flee with something akin to despair.
At first, they'd rowed backwards, attempting to lure him into a bad deployment. But Satyrus had signalled the Bull, and his columns had deployed like the unfolding of a cloak, and that had destroyed any lingering thoughts of resistance. It occurred to Satyrus that he might have trained his men too well.
When it was clear that there would be no engagement, both sides raised sails and suddenly his squadron and the Rhodians had all the advantage – their masts stood all the time, and their rigging was up, so their sails went up like a cloud rising from the sea and suddenly the two flanks of his formation were shooting ahead, minus their borrowed Aegyptian ships and recent captures.
Neiron ignored his rantings and continued on his course without raising sail, because the Golden Lotus was alone in the centre of the great crescent and if he raised sail he would be alone in her pursuit.
'Don't be a tunny,' Neiron said. 'We've won. Let your boys play.'
Eumeles lost eight ships in an hour – slower triremes, or those that usually beached to raise a mast. The Rhodians and Leon's ships – all the triemioliai – swept in like hawks among pigeons and took what they wanted.
Satyrus wanted to be in the thick of the fighting, but he was not. And when night fell, his fleet beached, with his own squadron fully manned and sleeping on their oars out in the roadstead. Eumeles was an hour's row along the coast.
At Diokles' suggestion, they rose with the morning star, launched in the dark and rowed as if for a prize – but Eumeles had done the same. They caught a store ship, slow off the beach, and Melitta's friend Idomeneus boarded the ship and then swam from it to the Lotus. He reported aboard dripping wet.
'Full of wine,' he said cheerfully.
'Sink him,' Neiron said, even as some sailors began to cheer. 'Shut up, you lot.'
Satyrus looked at his helmsman. 'Sink him?'
'Probably poisoned,' Neiron said. 'An old trick. We stop and get drunk…'
Idomeneus shook his head. 'And people think Cretans are evil?' he said.
They set fire to the wine ship and sailed on.
*
'He'll make his stand at the Cimmerian Bosporus,' Satyrus predicted.
'He'll run till he finds the rest of his fleet. Where do you think they are?' Diokles asked Panther.
Panther shrugged. 'I have to admit this is going better than I expected,' he said. 'But we're a long way from home, lad. That is, my lord. We need to get this over with.'
Satyrus looked at Diokles. 'Why not make a stand at the Bosporus?' he asked. 'It's so narrow where the sea runs into the Bay of Salmon that his ships will form two lines and still have a reserve.'
'And then we come with bigger, better crews and better marines, plough in bow to bow and eat him alive.' Diokles shook his head. 'We've got him, lord. And we'll get a little better every day. He's running – his rowers are afraid. And they don't try to keep formation as they run, so they're not practising anything but running.' Diokles poured wine on the sand. 'I speak no hubris. Unless the gods take a hand, he is ours.'
Satyrus shook his head. 'How I wish you hadn't said that,' he said.
The next day, Eumeles made no attempt to hold the straits that the Greeks called the Cimmerian Bosporus. And when the Golden Lotus appeared, leading the centre column, a swarm of small boats put off from the sandy beaches on either hand, local Maeotae fishermen at the helm.
'Let a few aboard,' Satyrus called out. 'But don't take the way off the ship. We're going on. I don't want to let Eumeles out of my sight!'
He heard the thump as a fishing boat came alongside, but he and Theron were stripped, wrestling falls in the deck area just in front of the helm, a sacrifice for Poseidon and Herakles of their strength and sweat. They were well matched – Theron's shoulders were still a finger broader, and Satyrus was now a touch faster – and every man off duty was gathered to watch, so that the Lotus was down a strake by the stern.
They were locked on the deck, grappling, when Satyrus became aware of the silence. And it was clear that they were getting nowhere.
'Break?' Satyrus grunted.
Theron slapped the deck and they both rolled to their feet.
'This is how you keep my flagship?' a familiar voice asked. 'Sporting events at sea?'
And then Satyrus had his uncle Leon locked in an embrace. Behind him, Nihmu looked ten years younger, and Darius had a certain glow of satisfaction. Satyrus embraced each in turn.
Darius wrinkled his nostrils at Satyrus's sweat. 'I've been a slave for a month, my dear,' he said. 'I only want to smell good things.'
Theron laughed. 'You are too fastidious, Persian!'
But Leon stepped in. 'I owe him my life – at least. By all the gods, Darius, I never thought it would be your face I saw! And you should see him with a sword!'
Nihmu nodded. 'Kineas always said he was the best,' she put in.
Satyrus picked up his discarded chiton and laughed. 'Now,' he said. 'Now I feel the favour of the gods.'
In truth, Leon was shockingly thin, and he looked old. His hair was grizzled white and grey, and his sheath of muscle had vanished. His arms were like sticks.
'You look like a young god,' Leon said.
Satyrus bowed at the compliment. 'It is so good to have you back among us, Uncle,' he said.
'I do not look like a young god, do I?' Leon shook his head. 'They didn't feed me for – some time. I wasn't tortured, but suddenly the treatment went from ransom captivity to something worse. Later I found out that Melitta had landed and raised the Sakje, and suddenly I was a liability.' He coughed into his hand.
Darius put a hand on the Numidian's shoulder. 'We got to you as soon as we could organize,' he said.
Satyrus shook his head. 'I feel guilt, Uncle. I left you at the battle, and then I left your rescue to others.'
Leon smiled. 'Lad, you lived, and I lived, and now…' He grinned, and some of the wrinkles fell from his face. 'And now, we'll have our revenge.'
The story of the rescue came out over two days – how Darius recruited Persian slaves inside the palace, then insinuated himself among them, armed a dozen, massacred the guards and opened the cells.
'I suspect that some truly bad men are now free,' Darius said. 'I can't really bring myself to care. But I do have half a dozen Persian gentlemen who have come with me, and would expect a reward.'
'Can they ride?' Satyrus asked.
'I did say they were Persians,' Darius said.
'I'll take them,' Diodorus said, coming out of the darkness with a wineskin over his shoulder. 'Leon, you bastard, you made a lot of work for us!'
Satyrus was one of them, but in a way, he was not. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chin, his back against Abraham's back, and he listened to them – Leon and Crax, Diodorus, Nihmu, Darius and all the men who had ridden with Kineas. He listened to them tell stories far into the night.
Abraham laughed. 'Is this what we'll become?'
Satyrus shook his head. 'Only if we're lucky,' he said.
'Listen to them brag!' Abraham shot back. 'They sound like pirates!'
Satyrus reached over and took the wine his friend was hoarding. 'Darius walked into Eumeles' palace and rescued Leon. Leon survived without food for a month. Nihmu found Darius disguised as a slave and then joined him. These people are larger than mere mortals, Abraham. They are like the men of former days, or so they have always seemed to me.'
Abraham grunted. 'Like Philokles, then,' he said.
Satyrus was silent for a while. 'Yes,' he said. 'They are all like Philokles.'
