She was a trader, of course — a Venetiae ship that had just made the passage to Alba. Not a tin ship, or not this trip — this ship had been far to the north along the east coast of Alba, collecting hides and selling wine.
The captain, whom I‘ll call Accles because that’s the closest I ever got to his name, sat with me for a day, recounting his adventures. He was eager to meet me, because he’d met with the Phoenicians off Vecti and spoken to them.
‘You have made them very angry,’ he said.
Detorix was sitting across from me. Spying, I think — or at least, watching. Leukas translated for me — translated some. By then, my Gaulish-Keltoi wasn’t bad.
‘The Phoenician trierarch said that you… were a pirate who came from Greece just to prey on Phoenician shipping,’ he said.
I smiled. ‘I have no love for Carthage or Tyre,’ I said. ‘I have sunk many of their ships, and killed or taken many of their men.’
Detorix and Accles exchanged a look.
‘Have they asked for you to hand me over?’ I asked.
‘They will,’ Accles answered. ‘I mean, I had no idea who you were until I came ashore here.’
I nodded. ‘Will they come here?’ I asked.
Detorix gave me an odd look. ‘We don’t allow them to come here,’ he said.
I looked at both of them. They both watched me.
I resisted the impulse to place a hand on my xiphos hilt.
While we were all staring — or perhaps glaring — at each other, a woman came in. She was a matron — a year or two older than me, I expect. Keltoi women are very fit, like Spartan women, and you can’t always read their age in their bellies. But she had the wrinkles of laughter in her eyes, and the way she carried her head spoke of dignity combined with, shall we say, experience?
She wore a sword, but that wasn’t so rare among aristocratic Kelts. She looked at me with appraisal — perhaps even challenge — and sat by Accles.
‘Is this the pirate?’ she asked.
Accles pretended to laugh.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I am. But not of Keltoi. Merely of Carthaginians.’
She raised an eyebrow. She had red-brown hair and a long, straight nose and wore a gold pin on her wool cloak that was worth… hmm.. a small ship.
‘I’m Arimnestos of Plataea,’ I said.
She looked at Accles. ‘Well?’ she asked.
Detorix leaned forward. ‘He’s on his way south with a cargo of tin.’
‘Stolen tin?’ she asked Detorix.
Ten years before, I’d have slammed my fist on the table and said something like, ‘I’m right here.’
Instead, I sat back and had a sip of wine.
‘He purchased the tin at Vecti,’ Detorix said.
‘With spoils taken from the Phoenicians?’ she insisted.
I snorted.
She ignored me.
Detorix looked at me, though. ‘He says not. He says that he brought trade goods from the Inner Sea.’
‘And the Phoenicians, our most reliable trade partners, are lying — is that it?’ she asked.
Detorix shrugged and didn’t meet her eye.
She turned to me. ‘The Phoenicians landed north of Vecti, burned a village and killed a handful of people,’ she said slowly. ‘My people.’
‘And took fifty of them as slaves?’ I guessed.
She shrugged. ‘Yes, I have reason to believe it.’
I nodded. ‘When I stormed their town, I opened the slave pens. There were hundreds of Keltoi.’ I shrugged. ‘And I rescued them and brought them home. Ask around.’
‘Your attack may have provoked a war,’ she said.
‘They attacked me first,’ I said.
She shrugged, as if the rights and wrongs of the issue didn’t interest her much. And there was no reason it should. As I found out later from Detorix, she was the queen of three tribes, and she needed to keep her peoples happy and well fed — which meant a constant tin trade, reliable alliances and open communications — with the Phoenicians.
‘Wouldn’t it make more sense to burn a couple of their ships to teach them not to enslave your people?’ I asked.
She went back to talking to Detorix. ‘If we just send them his head, will that be enough?’
Detorix shook his head. ‘They don’t even know what he looked like,’ he said.
Well, there’s barbarian honesty for you. They discussed taking me, executing me and sending my head to my enemies — in front of me. It’s honour of a sort.
‘I’m not sure there are enough men in this town to take me,’ I said, conversationally.
She looked at me the way a man would look at a pig, if the pig talked. She smiled. ‘Southerners don’t even know how to use a sword,’ she said.
‘Really?’ I asked. ‘I don’t expect many of our swordsmen come this way. The way I hear it, you get architects, tin vendors and wine merchants.’
She smiled; it was amazingly condescending. Briseis could have taken lessons.
‘And are you a swordsman?’ she asked.
Damn it, I was being played. She knew what I would say, and I was being manoeuvred into giving a display of skill so that I could be killed. And Neoptolymos wasn’t close.
I had a boy — a pais — named Ajax. He was tiny, underfed and fast. He was around me all the time, fetching me wine, carrying my purse — you know, a pais. He wasn’t a slave — or rather, he had been a slave and now he was free, and I’m not sure he had noticed a difference.
‘Ajax, run and fetch Gaius, will you, lad?’ I said. The boy ran out into the afternoon.
The great lady leaned forward. ‘Are you going to show us your swordsmanship?’ she asked.
I frowned. ‘Against whom? You?’
She smiled. ‘You are as far beneath me as the pigs who eat rubbish on my farms, foreigner. Why not fight one of them first?’
I leaned back — I’m a Greek, not a Kelt. I was being bated, and I knew it. And I wasn’t fifteen years old, either.
We were sitting on three-legged wooden stools at a wooden table in the open, under a linen canvas awning that stuck out from a timber building. When I leaned back on two legs, I could put my back against one of the supports that held up the awning.
I pointed a finger — my left hand — at Detorix as if I was going to make an accusation. And then my left hand darted to her right arm and pinned it down, and I drew my kopis and laid it on her throat.
Her eyes were fairly large.
‘Leukas, tell this woman exactly what I say. Are you ready?’
Leukas swallowed. ‘She’s my queen, boss.’
I nodded. ‘Good. Tell her, she can fight me herself. I don’t see any reason to fight the pig, the pig-keeper — you getting this? The pig-keeper’s boss, her warlord, her top swordsman — no, I’ll wait until you’re done.’ I kept her pinned in place. She tried to get to her feet and I slammed her back down on the stool.
‘Or, I’ll just cut her throat and burn the town and steal what I need to get home,’ I said to Detorix. ‘Understand me, Detorix? You tried to take my things and my ships once before. Call me pirate? What you lack here is the force to carry out your will. Understand?’
The silence went on a long time.
Gaius came in. ‘There’s some very unhappy barbarians over there. I think they are sending for archers,’ he said.
‘You will be my second in a duel,’ I said.
He shrugged. ‘Detorix?’
