"It's true, Hypereides," Kalleos told him. "It's the Rope Makers. Our people wanted to burn Hill and take Cowland, but the Rope Makers wouldn't stand for it. They want to make sure we'll always have an enemy in the north."
Chapter 13 Oh, Violet Crowned City!
Pindaros exclaimed, "Oh, bright bulwark of our nation, ruined!" A thin blue smoke overhung what had been the city of Deathless Thought; and though it was set well back from the sea (Tieup, at the edge of the water, had fared much better) the clear air and bright summer sunshine mercilessly revealed how little remained.
"Oh, violet crowned!" Pindaros turned away.
Hilaeira asked, "How can you sing its praises? This is what these people would have done to us."
"Because we chose to surrender," Pindaros told her. "And lost even when we fought for the Great King. They chose to resist, and won even with us against them. We were wrong, and they were right.
Their city was destroyed; ours deserved it."
"You can't mean that."
"I do. I love our shining city as much as any man can love his home, and I'm delighted it's endured.
But I studied here with Agathocles and Apollodoros, and I won't pretend this was the justice of the gods."
The black man pointed to himself and me to indicate we had assisted in the destruction. I nodded to show I understood, hoping no one else had seen him.
Hypereides came aft rubbing his hands. The wind had veered north as soon as we left the bay, so he felt certain he enjoyed divine favor. "What a ship! Loaded to the gunnels and still outreaching the others.
That's the Long Coast whizzing past, my boy, the land that bore her and us. If I'd known she'd be this good, I'd have had three triremes instead of one and the triacontors. Well, too bad for their skippers, I say. This'll teach 'em their old boss's still the boss."
Io piped, " Clytia has her oars out, sir. Now Eidyia's putting hers out too."
"They think they can beat us like that, little sweetheart, but don't you bet on it. We can match 'em trick for trick." In a few moments more, our own crew was hard at work. " I love my boy, and so does he! But all I do is stir this sea!" They stirred it well enough; we reached the boathouses a ship's length ahead of Eidyia and three before Clytia.
I went forward to join Kalleos while the sailors were unshipping the masts. She was keeping watch over her women, who were alternately snubbing Acetes's soldiers and joking with them. "Wasn't that a lovely sail?" she asked. "I'll tell you, I hate to see it put away."
"Not half so beautiful as the original, madame." Her blue eyes shone.
"Latro, you and me are going to get along."
"Am I to go with you, then, madame?"
"That's right. Hypereides hasn't signed a bill of sale yet, but we've hooked fingers on the deal, and he'll draw one up tonight. You see, Latro, in my business I need a man who can keep order. It's better if he doesn't have to fight, but he has to be able to. I used to have a freedman. Gello, his name was. But he had to go in the army, and I hear they got him in the winter skirmishing. Be polite, do your work, don't bother my girls unless they want to be bothered, and you'll never feel the whip. Get me mad, and ... well, they always need a few good men in the silver mines."
"I'll write what you say here," I told her. "Then I won't forget." Yet even as I spoke, I was thinking that I am no one's slave, no matter how these people talk.
As soon as the masts were down, we had glided into the boathouse. Now sailors and sailors' families were crowding ashore. I started to go with them, but Kalleos stopped me. "Wait till they're gone. If you think I'm going to walk to the city with them, you don't know me as well as you're going to. I'll hire a sedan chair if I can. Otherwise I plan to take my time, and I don't want their brats climbing all over me."
I said, "If you'll tell me how much you want to promise the bearers, I'll hire a chair for you now and have them bring it to the ship."
She cocked her head at me. "You know, you may turn out to be a nicer buy than I thought. But I've a better idea yet. Turn left out of the boathouse and go down the narrowest street you see. Three doors on the left, and there's a man who used to rent them. He may still have his chairs, even if most of his bearers are in the navy. Tell him Kalleos sent you, and you'll pay a spit for a chair without bearers, to be returned by you in the morning. If he won't agree, throw down the spit and take a chair. Here's a spit, and a drachma too, in case he wants a deposit. Bring the chair here, and we'll hire one of these sailors to carry the other end."
"I think I can get someone who won't have to be paid, madame, if you'll feed him."
"Better and better! Go to it."
I waved to the black man, and together we had no difficulty in persuading the chair owner to let us have a light one with long poles and a painted canopy.
"I lost a little flesh on the island," Kalleos told us as she took her seat. "I can tell by the way my gowns fit. Lucky for you I did."
While I had been gone, she had hired a dozen sailors to carry the bags and clothes boxes; so there was quite a procession, the gaudily gowned women following us, and the sailors following them with the baggage. The women were in a cheerful mood, happy to return to the city even if the city was destroyed.
When we reached the stones that marked its borders, Kalleos had them strike up a tune on their drums and flutes while a tall, handsome woman called Phye strummed a lyre and sang.
"She has a lovely voice, hasn't she?" Kalleos said.
She had, and I agreed. The black man was carrying the front of the chair, and I the back.
"Two drachmas a night I could get for her, if only she'd learn philosophy," Kalleos grumbled. "But she won't. You can't get it through that thick skull of hers. Last year I got one of the finest sophists in the city to lecture her. After three days, I asked her to tell me what she knew, and all she'd say was, 'But what's the use of it?' " Kalleos shook her head.
"What is the use, madame?"
"Why, to get two drachmas a night, you big ninny! A man won't pay that kind of money unless he thinks he's sleeping above himself, no matter how good-looking the girl is, or how accommodating, either. He doesn't want her to talk about Solon or whether the world's all fire or all water; but he wants to think she could if he felt like it.
"Solon!" Kalleos chuckled. "When I was younger, I used to know an old woman who'd known him.
You know what he wanted? A girl who could drink with him cup for cup. That's what she said. They finally found one, a big blond Geta who cost them a fortune. She drank with him all night, slept with him, and thanked him - still in the bed - by signs when he paid her and tipped her and went home. Then the owner and the fancy man - that's you, Latro - told her to get out of bed, and she fell on her face and broke her nose."
I had been looking at the smoke over the city. I asked how it could still be burning, when it had been destroyed, as I understood it, last autumn.
"Oh, those aren't the fires the barbarians lit," Kalleos told me. "That's just dust raised by the builders, and people burning wreckage to be rid of it. A few went over as soon as the Great King's army left, then more when the weather turned good this year; and now all the rest after the victory at Clay. The best people are coming home from Argolis too, and all that means that the customers will be here, not on the island. So here we are, and the playing and singing is to let them know we're back."
She pointed. "They'll be building a new temple for the goddess up there on the sacred rock - that's what I hear - when the war's over and they can raise the money."
"It will be a beautiful site," I said.
"Always has been. There's a spring of salt water up there that was put there by the Earth Shaker himself in the Golden Age, when he tried to claim the city. And up till last year, the oldest olive tree in the whole world, the first olive tree, planted by the goddess in person. The barbarians cut it down and burned it; but the roots have put up a new shoot, that's what I hear."
I told her I would like to see it, and that I was surprised the citizens had not fought to the death to defend such things.
"A lot did. The temple treasurers, because there was so much they couldn't get it all away, and a lot of poor people who were left behind by the last ships. Before the Great King's army got here, the Assembly sent to the Navel to ask what to do. The god always gives good answers, but he usually puts them so you wish he hadn't. This time he said we'd be safe behind walls of wood. I guess you understand that."
She looked back to see whether I did, and I shook my head.
"Well, neither did we. Most people thought it meant the ships, but there was an old palisade around the hilltop, and some people thought it meant that. They strengthened it quite a bit, but the barbarians burned it with fire arrows and killed them all."
After that she did not seem to wish to talk, and I contented myself with listening to the women's music and looking about at the destruction of Thought, which had not - or so it seemed to me - been very large to begin with.
Soon Kalleos directed the black man to turn down a side street. There we halted at a house with two walls still standing, and she stepped out. Her head was proud as she walked through the broken doorway, and she turned it neither to the right nor the left; but I saw a tear roll down her cheek.
The women stopped their playing and singing, and scattered to search for possessions they had left behind, though I think none of them has yet found much. The sailors laid down their burdens and demanded their pay, an obol apiece. The black man and I explained (he by signs and I with words) that we had nothing and went inside too, to look for Kalleos.
We found her in the courtyard kicking at rubbish. "Here you are at last," she said. "Get busy! We'll have guests tonight, and I want all this cleared out, every stick of it."
I said, "You haven't paid the sailors, madame."
"Because I've got more work for them, you ninny. Tell them to come in here. No, get to work, and I'll talk to them myself."
We did what we could, saving those things that appeared repairable or still usable and burning the rest, as a thousand others were doing all over the city. Soon the sailors were at work too, patching the door and setting brick upon brick to rebuild the walls. Kalleos asked how many urns had been left whole. There were only three, and I told her.
"Not nearly enough. Latro, you can remember for a day or so - isn't that what Hypereides said?"
I did not know, but the black man nodded in agreement.
"Fine. I want you to go to the market. Most of the people selling there will have stalls or a cloth on the ground. Pay no attention to those. Find a potter who's selling out of a cart. You understand?"
"Yes, madame."
"And find a flower-seller with a cart too. Tell them to follow you. Bring them and their carts back here, and I'll buy everything they have. There's nothing like flowers when you don't have furniture. Your friend's to stay here and work, understand? And you're not to loiter, either. We've a lot to do before tonight."
I did as Kalleos had told me, but on the way back I was stopped by a man of unusual and rather less than prepossessing appearance. The chlamys that draped his narrow shoulders was of a pale hyacinth; he carried a tall, crooked staff topped with the figure of a woman, and his dark eyes were so prominent they seemed about to leap from his head.
With his staff held to one side, he bowed very low in the Oriental way. It seemed to me there was something of mockery in it; but then there seemed something of mockery - lent by his eyes, his tall, lean frame, and his disordered hair - in all he said and did.
"I should be most grateful for a trifle of information, good sir. May I inquire whom it is who has need of so many urns and blossoms? That it's none of my affair, I well understand; but surely it will do no harm to tell me. And who knows? Soon I may be in a position to do you, sir, some little favor in return. It is the mouse, after all, that gnaws the net that binds the lion, as a certain wise slave from the east taught us long ago."
"They're for Kalleos, my mistress," I told him.
His mouth opened so widely when he grinned that it seemed he showed a hundred teeth. "Kalleos, dear old Kalleos! I know her very well. We're good friends, Kalleos and I. I wasn't aware she had returned to this glorious city."
"She came back only today," I said.
"Wonderful! May I accompany you?" He looked around as though reconciling the destruction with the city as he had known it. "Why, her house is only a few doors away, I believe? Tell her, fellow, that an old admirer who would pay his respects awaits her leisure. I am Eurykles the Necromancer."
Chapter 14 How Strange a Celebration
Pindaros said, "Was there ever anything like it?" He waved at the banks of flowers, with the broken walls beyond them only half restored. "Now it's the city of the Lady of Thought indeed, Latro. The people are here again, yet her owls roost in the ruins. What a poem I shall make of all this!"
Behind him, Hypereides said, "When you write it, don't forget to say I was here, and that I drank my wine and cuddled my wench as of old."
"You're no fit subject for great poetry," Pindaros told him. "No, stop, I'll make you so. For a thousand years, your name will be linked with Achilles's."
I had tallied them in my mind as they trooped in, six in all: Pindaros, Hypereides, the kybernetes, Acetes, and two others I did not recognize, the captains of Eidyia and Clytia. Now Acetes was holding out the bundle he had carried into the house. "Here, Latro, Hypereides said you should have these."
I unwound the sailcloth and found bronze disks for the breast and back, and with them a hooked sword and a bronze belt. It was strange to touch the cool metal of the sword and belt, because I, who remembered nothing else, felt I remembered them, though I could not have told where I had worn them or even when I had lost them. I buckled them on, knowing they had been mine before, but no more than that.