was coming ashore for us.
Some men took some hide boats they found there – Tyche
favours the brave, or so they say, and thirty men made it away in
the smal boats. But the fighting was intensifying, and I could hear
the enemy getting into a line, their shields tapping against each
other in the dark, and the fires behind them showed me how fast
they were building the shield wal.
The enemy hoplites were backlit by burning ships, and mine
were hidden by darkness. ‘One quick charge!’ I told the men I
could find. ‘On me, on me!’ I caled, and I picked up a heavy
rock. ‘Get close and throw,’ I said. ‘Put one man down, and run
for the ship. Don’t stay and fight!’
Maybe a dozen men listened to me and obeyed. We ran
down the dune out of the darkness, and just a pace or two from
their shield wal I threw my rock – a big rock, I can tel you. My
rock caught my foe in the shin and he went down, and I jumped
through the gap in their line and plunged my spear into the
unshielded side of the man next to me.
Then the night was ful of shouts. Fighting at night is nothing
like fighting by day. Men fal down when no foe assails them –
they lose their way in the melee. I turned to run and somehow
found myself deeper in their line.
I came upon Archilogos as another ship burst into pitch-
soaked flame behind my former friend. I think he recognized me
as soon as I recognized him. Neither of us had a helmet on – no
one wears a helmet at night.
I knew that if I stopped moving, I was dead or taken, so I
I knew that if I stopped moving, I was dead or taken, so I
shoved him – he had a shield and I had none. I had sworn to
protect him, so I couldn’t try to harm him – such a thing would
haunt me for ever.
He roared and cut at me with a long kopis – the sword flared
like flame over my head. I tangled his blow with my spear and
jumped back, slamming into a man who had no idea whether I
was friend or foe. I fel, lost my spear and roled, and another
man fel on top of me.
That should have been the end.
Archilogos caled ‘Doru! Stand and face me!’ and he cut at
the man I’d tripped over. That’s fighting in the dark. I saw the
flash of his blow and heard it thunk home in another man’s
shield.
I gave up trying to find my spear, or even getting to my feet. I
crawled and then I roled, and at one point a man stepped on my
breastplate in the dark. The hinges gave, but held, and he
stepped away, thinking me a corpse.
There was shouting behind me, where I’d been. I reckoned
that the Ionian Greeks were fighting each other. Later I heard
that the Greeks and Phoenicians started fighting. Many men were
forced alies of the Persians, and not sorry to kil a Tyrian in the
dark, I can tel you, and it may be that we only lived because the
Ionians helped us.
At any rate, I got to my feet after what seemed an eternity of
being helpless, tore my chlamys from my neck, cast it at my feet
and ran to the beach.
Storm Cutter was already backing water.
Storm Cutter was already backing water.
I was out of my breastplate even as I ran – I cut the straps
with my eating knife, running paralel to the ship’s course, easily
outpacing it as it backed water. I dropped the thing on the sand
– a fortune in wel-tooled bronze, but a smal price to give the
gods for freedom – and I ran to the edge of the sea and dived in
without pausing on the shingle, my knife stil in my hand.
Four strokes out, I got my arms around an oar and caled for
the rowers to pul me in. Something hit me in the head and I
started to go down – I took another blow between the shoulder
blades, and my last thought was that their archers had got me.
5
Wel, I wasn’t dead. Does that surprise you?
Idomeneus and Philocrates hauled me up the side. I’d been
hit on the head by an oar, and when I awoke I had a rip on my
scalp and a bruise on my side as if I’d been hit with an axe.
We lost sixteen men – heavy casualties from the sixty or so
of them turned back from the swim and remained in Miletus. The
rest were kiled. Two of them were marines, men who had been
with me for years.
On the other hand, we were free. In those days, we seldom
stopped to mourn the dead, although it was a humiliation to me
to have left their bones behind. Greeks pride themselves on
retrieving their dead – even on a raid. The sun was wel up in the
sky before I could think, but my first thoughts were ful of joy –
joy at the cleanliness of the sea and the blueness of the sky.
joy at the cleanliness of the sea and the blueness of the sky.
Sieges are ugly.
The sea is never ugly, even when he means to kil you.
We made our way north, up the Samian channel, and we
took our time because we had three crews packed into two
ships, with a dozen Milesian archers thrown in for good measure.
They were good men. Teucer was their leader – when a father
names his son after the greatest archer in the Iliad, he must
expect the boy to grow to pul a bow, eh? Teucer and
Philocrates were friends almost before he had his sandals off,
and they could be seen throwing knucklebones by the
helmsman’s station al through the day, as neither had a station
except in combat.
We stopped for meals and we set good lookouts, but the sea
remained empty until we were off Ephesus.
There, out in the roadstead, we caught a pair of Aegyptian
ships with a pair of Cilicians for escort, or so we thought. Now,
the Cilicians were great pirates – they preyed on everyone, but
as the Ionian Revolt grew, they took service with the Great King
because preying on the Ionians and the Carians promised the
richest pickings.
Cilicians seldom use triremes. They are poor men, and they
prefer smaler, lighter ships, like the hemiolia, a bireme with a
heavy sailing rig and a third half-deck in the stern. The two
Cilicians in the distance were hemioliai. Their raked masts
marked them for what they were.
My head hurt as if a horse had stepped on it, and I had to sit
My head hurt as if a horse had stepped on it, and I had to sit
on the bench by the helmsman and watch as Idomeneus and
Stephanos planned our attack on the little convoy.
Closer up, we could see that the two Cilicians were not
guarding the Aegyptians. They were taking them. One of the
low merchant ships had already been grappled and there was
blood in the water.
Naturaly, the Cilicians thought we were Phoenicians. Not
that they cared. Cilicians are against every race.
They ran – north.
We let them go and took the Aegyptians for ourselves. One
of their ships had already been taken and abandoned, and he
was empty of life, decks red with sticky blood and already
breeding flies, but the cargo was mostly intact – raw hides and
ivory.
The second ship ran, and Stephanos showed me how fast the
former slave ship realy was. The sun was not yet at its height
when Stephanos caught the Aegyptian over against the Asian
coast and brought him back to where we were grappled to the
first capture, the oarsmen blessing the gods for the luck of a
cargo of ivory and praying that the other ship was as rich. It was,
laden with ceramic bottles of perfume and bales of ostrich
plumes, an absurdly rich cargo that made us al laugh for sheer
joy.
We landed on the beach at Chios with the two prizes in tow
and the Aegyptian captain stil cursing his poor luck at being
attacked twice in a single afternoon. I loaded al the valuables
into one ship, gave the hides to the Chians as payment for their
into one ship, gave the hides to the Chians as payment for their
hospitality and let the Aegyptian crew take the empty ship south
for home, unharmed – my thank-offering to Apolo, twenty-six
sailors alive who I’d usualy have kiled. The Chian fishermen
told us that their lord, Pelagius, and his nephews had visited, and
that the whole fleet of the rebelion was gathering at Mytilene.
Then we were away, up the coast of Chios, across the deep blue
to Lesbos.
We made Mytilene under a tower of cloud, and the beaches
were lined with ships.
At last, we’d found the rebel fleet.
Miltiades had done the work. He’d gone from island to island,
ralying the rebels to make a stand. He’d assumed I was dead,
until he heard of my first load of grain going into Miletus.
We were sitting in the great hal, the Boule of Mytilene, and
men toasted me like a hero, and it went to my head like neat
wine.
‘You saved the rebelion,’ Miltiades said, in front of a
hundred captains. Epaphroditos was there, grinning from ear to
ear. Paramanos shook his head and raised his cup to me, and
Cimon stood at my shoulder and pounded me on the back,
which made my head hurt.
There were other captains and lords I knew wel enough –
Pelagius of Chios, a few Cretans and a dozen Samian captains.
But there were men I’d never seen before. One was a tough-
looking bastard caled Dionysius, who carried a kalyx krater on
his shield and claimed descent from the god of wine. Miltiades
his shield and claimed descent from the god of wine. Miltiades
took me around the hal and introduced me to al the leaders.
It was like a whole new rebelion. And Miltiades had done it,
for al the praise he lavished on me, taking his ship from inlet to
inlet al through the autumn, wheedling, cajoling and threatening
the Ionians and the Cretans and the Samians until they put
together a fleet.
‘We drove the Medes from the Chersonese in a week,’
Miltiades bragged. ‘And you kept Miletus alive at our backs. In
a few days, we’l run down the coast and flush out their
squadron, and then we’l fil Miletus with grain.’
Everyone smiled. It was a turning point in the rebelion, we al
agreed.
Next day, I sold my ivory, my ostrich plumes and my fine
Aegyptian glass to the same merchants who had sold me grain.
I’d brought two sacks of gold darics from Miletus, and now I
added a quantity of lapis, a stack of gold bars and a pile of silver
to my hoard.
With Idomeneus and Philocrates and Stephanos and Galas
and Mal and Teucer to help, I carried it al across to Miltiades’
great ship Ajax. I laid it out on the sand and divided it in half.
‘Choose, lord,’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘You are the best of my captains,’ he
said.
‘He says that to al the girls,’ Cimon added. ‘Thank the gods
you earned some gold. We earned nothing but abuse, sailing
about like busy mice. I took a good prize over by Cyprus, but it
turned out to be the property of one of our “alies”, and we had
turned out to be the property of one of our “alies”, and we had
to return it.’ Cimon glowered at his father, who shrugged.
‘May al the gods bless you, Arimnestos,’ Miltiades said.
Then, my debts cleared, I paid my oarsmen. By common
consent, we included our Milesian archers in the payout. Most
men received a pair of gold darics and some change. I’d seldom
managed such a rich payout, and Stephanos and I watched with
unconcealed glee as our boys went up the beach, roaring like
fools, determined to spend it al in a haze of wine and fornication.
Then I paid the officers. Galas and Mal counted as officers
now, and they were unable to believe their good fortune, and
young Teucer, a mere archer, looked at his wool hat ful of silver
and shook his head. Stephanos the fisherman was doing the
same. ‘Never had so much money in my life,’ he said.
‘Save it, brother,’ I said, putting my arms around him.
‘You’re a captain now. You’l need to keep treasure against a
rainy day – when I take an arrow, or when you go your own
way.’
He might have protested, but instead he gave me a serious
nod and went off. He sent almost al his money home to his sister
in a fishing boat commanded by his brother.
Teucer gambled. When he was poor, it wasn’t an affliction,
as he and Philocrates played for stones from the beach and
shels, but once he had money, he was a terror – the more so as
he won. Constantly.
I put a waxed-linen walet ful of lapis and gold and a fine,
gold-worked bottle of rose scent into my leather bag, and shook
gold-worked bottle of rose scent into my leather bag, and shook
my head. It is easy to be rich, if you take other men’s wealth. I
had the value of my father’s farm and forge in my bag – ten times
over. Those Aegyptian merchants had a year of the value of my
crops in every pair of ivories. But even as I grinned at my wealth,
I saw the lawless men on the mountain at Cithaeron – the bandit
gang I’d broken – and I knew that I was no different. It was a
sobering thought. And one I dismissed as quickly as I could.
That afternoon, we had a council of al the rebel captains and
lords at Boule. The seams in the rebelion showed a lot faster
when there wasn’t any wine to drink. The Samians felt that
Miltiades had wasted them, taking them north to the Chersonese.
The Cretans wanted a battle, and cared nothing for the odds.
The Lesbians and the Chians seemed to me to be the only men
who actualy cared about the rebelion – they were the one
contingent that thought in terms of the good of al. Perhaps it was
because they were between the northern Chersonese and the
southern Cretans – the men in the middle. Everyone argued
about the loot that had been taken.
Demetrios of Samos rose in late afternoon and pointed at me.
‘This boy took two ships ful of ivory, but he has not shared with
the rest of us,’ he said.
I hadn’t expected it. To be honest, I’m always s
urprised by
the foolish greed of men, and their envy. I thought I was a hero. I
expected everyone to love me.
So I just looked at the felow.
‘See something you like, boy?’ he sneered. ‘Let’s have a
share of your precious ivory. Or did your lover Miltiades take it
share of your precious ivory. Or did your lover Miltiades take it
al for himself ?’
I stood there, angry as Orpheus in Hades, gulping like a fish.
I wanted to gut him on the spot, but I couldn’t think of a thing to
say. Miltiades glared at me. He didn’t want to step in – that’s
what the Samian wanted, to show that Miltiades was my master.
Finaly, my head began to work. ‘I’m sorry, my lord,’ I said,
my voice low, to force men to be quiet. I bowed my head in
mock contrition.
‘You are?’ he said.
‘If I had understood that we were to share prizes taken
before we joined the fleet,’ I said, ‘I owe a great deal more than
just two ships’ worth of ivory. And painful as I wil find it to hand
over my gains, I’l comfort myself that at least I contribute
something besides hot air!’
He leaped to his feet. ‘What the fuck are you saying?’ he
snarled. ‘That I can’t earn my keep? Is that it?’
I shrugged. ‘I gather you’ve never actualy taken an enemy
ship,’ I said in my softest voice. ‘As you seem to need to pay
your crews from my profits.’
Dionysius’s great bely laugh carried through the hal. ‘Sit
down, Demetrios! No man needs to share what he took before
he came to the fleet, as our young Plataean knows ful wel.
Don’t be an arse. What we need to decide is a strategy.’
Voices came up from every part of the hal. ‘Miletus!’ some
shouted. ‘Cyprus!’ caled others. Not a few insisted that the fleet
should make for Ephesus.
Miltiades’ son Cimon appeared at my elbow. ‘My pater
Miltiades’ son Cimon appeared at my elbow. ‘My pater
wants to see you tonight,’ he said. ‘To plan for the future.’
I nodded.
Cimon slapped my back and went out, apparently
uninterested in the fate of the rebelion.
A cynic would say that Miltiades had spent the summer and
autumn ralying rebels so that he could use them to reconquer his
holdings in the Chersonese. And a cynic would be correct.
Miltiades needed the power base that the rebelion offered him.
He needed the rebelion to continue, so that when he dealt with