The Ionia Sanction (21 page)

Asia beamed upon Themistocles in a clear case of father worship. The Persian officers cheered. Archeptolis and Mnesiptolema laughed loudly and artificially. Nicomache seemed sad. Cleophantus whispered to me with a brittle smile, “He makes the same joke and the same toast at every dinner.”

So much for a sign that Themistocles regretted his choice.

Themistocles raised his cup in the air. “Yes, my children, we would have none of this, had the Athenians not turned against me, and every day I thank the Gods that they did. We would have been undone, had we not been undone!”

12

There is a fullness of all things, even of sleep and love.

“He doesn’t regret it in the least,” I said. “He’s actually
pleased
to be a traitor.”

“Because he’s been rewarded,” Diotima replied.

“I notice Themistocles profits from treason while I suffer for doing my duty.”

“Life wasn’t meant to be easy, Nico.”

“Does it say that in Heraclitus?”

At the end of dinner, I’d grabbed Diotima by the hand and led her out into the paradise for some fresh air to clear my head and sort out my thoughts. I needed some clarity, but it was hard to come by while my stomach felt like a block of lead with all the food that had been stuffed into it, and my mind was in a weird state. It was the middle of the night, but the three-quarter full moon was bright enough to see by. We were the only ones still out. Every single Persian had had to be carried off to bed, except for Barzanes. He had thanked Themistocles, who was slumped comatose, and walked off.

“Thanks very much for telling everyone I fell off Ajax,” I said to Diotima.

“My pleasure.”

“It’s not as if I
mind
having a roomful of men laughing at me.”

“Barzanes had you in chains this afternoon because he suspected you. Tonight you were less than subtle during dinner when you talked about Brion, and then Mnesiptolema—Nessie, I think they called her—she asks you outright about being an agent. You need to look harmless, Nico. How many dangerous men do you know who can’t ride a horse?”

“What’s that smell?”

Our random wandering had brought us to a large hole in a distant corner of the gardens. Even as we watched a slave walked up bearing two buckets, one filled with scraps from the dinner, the other with slops and human waste. He emptied each bucket in turn and walked away. The hole was large. With that much fertilizer, no wonder the garden grew so well.

“I wouldn’t mind having one of these back home,” I said, as we walked on.

“A sullage pit?”

“A paradise. I can imagine walking around my own gardens after dinner, relaxing. Even a small one would be nice.”

“You can’t afford it.”

“No. What did you think of the reactions to the death of Brion?” I asked.

“More complex than I expected. Any one of them could be hiding anything.”

“Are we sure there’s something to hide?”

“It’s hard to see how your friend Thorion could have been traitorous without someone at this end to help him.”

I nodded. “Maybe I should’ve mentioned Thorion’s death as well.”

“No, it would have given you away.”

“All right then, who do you think killed Brion?”

“Your friend Araxes,” she replied at once. “Because of that accursed secret letter.”

“Probably, but who commissioned Araxes?”

Diotima thought about it for a moment. “Themistocles? Barzanes? Both of them?”

“They wouldn’t need to hide a crime,” I objected. “They could kill anyone they felt like at high noon in the middle of the agora, call it empire business, and who’s going to complain?”

“What about motive then? The letter, I suppose. We won’t know anything until we find out what was in the letter. Some threat? Some dire personal secret, maybe? Or blackmail? It could be anything or anyone.”

“Anyone. Right. No doubt we’ll discover Nicomache is behind the evil plot as part of her plans for world domination.”

“Poor Nicomache,” Diotima said. “She hates the man she’s going to marry.”

“Barzanes is probably nobility, and a marriage would cement Themistocles’ position with the Persians. Anyone would call that a good match.”

“Any
man
would. Didn’t you see her shrinking from him?”

“It’s irrelevant. When was the last time a woman got to choose whom she married?”

“The daughters of Callias.”

“Yes, Callias,” I conceded. He’d mentioned it himself in passing at his symposium. “Not every father is Callias.”

We’d come to one of the pavilions Nicomache had spoken of. Someone had placed three dining couches in the middle. I could imagine in the heat of day it would be a fine place to relax. The pavilion sparkled because a pond next to it reflected bright moonlight. The reflections silhouetted Diotima in such a way that I could see the outline of her body beneath the fine linen of her chiton. The outline of the tops of her breasts was particularly clear.

“I feel as if my head were floating,” I complained. This slow walk had done me little good.

“How many of those candied fruits did you eat?”

“Those very sweet things? Lots. Every time I took a bite, I felt like taking another. I couldn’t stop myself.”

She nodded. “The same thing happened to me, when Brion fed me some back in Ephesus. You get a feeling like you’re full of energy, like you want to run?”

“That’s it.”

“It’ll go away eventually.”

“What should I do?”

“Do something energetic. Use up the energy.”

I grabbed Diotima and kissed her.

I’d been wanting to do that for a long time.

Diotima was surprised, then she kissed back and I stroked her, and everything was progressing nicely until she pushed me away.

“No, Nicolaos.”

“We’re far from home. Who’s going to know?”

“My future husband, I should think.”

“I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

“Would
you
marry a girl who wasn’t a virgin?”

“No, of course not.”

“Right.”

“Unless, of course, it was you,” I wheedled.

“I wasn’t born yesterday. Believe me, if I had any choice I’d have you right now. I’ve avoided marriage longer than any girl could hope, but I can feel it catching up with me. I
need
a husband, and it’s not you.”

“Isn’t that why you became a priestess?”

“Yes, and I suppose I could go somewhere where the priestesses don’t have to be married, the Temple of Artemis at Brauron maybe. But Nico, I’ve discovered there’s a problem with that.”

“Oh?”

Even in the dim light I could see her blush. “I, umm, rather like the idea of men.”

“Unfortunate.” I couldn’t help grinning.

“Don’t laugh. You were talking about life being unfair. Well, try this: I was raised to be an Athenian lady, except my mother is anything but. How in Hades am I going to marry within my class? You said there are men who’d have me, and so there are, but I won’t have them. I’m educated, I can read. I can think. I’m not going to be the wife of a poor farmer. Can you see me selling vegetables in the agora? I’d sooner slit my own throat.” She shook her head. “I have to believe that somewhere in the world there’s a man who suits me, but if there is, he isn’t in Athens, and that, Nico, means we’re not going to bed, at least not the same one.”

Diotima walked back into the palace, alone, leaving me to watch her retreating back while I cursed my father and the rules of marriage, all thoughts of murder and treason evaporated. Geros had called me a slave to my lusts. Well, he was right.

*   *   *

I was summoned to the presence of the satrap late next morning, which I welcomed since it would give me a chance to fulfill Pericles’ demand that I report on Themistocles. Philodios led me to an office high in the palace, a large room with many windows overlooking the gardens to the south. Themistocles reclined on a dining couch that had been set in the sunshine streaming through the window. He wore Persian dress. Two slaves sat before him taking notes. His dictation ceased the moment I was let in by the two soldiers at the door. Another two stood within the room. Themistocles was well guarded, even within his own palace.

He gestured at another couch. “Sit down. Relax.”

I sat down and didn’t relax.

“You are the first visitor I’ve had from Athens since I came here.”

He paused for a response from me and didn’t get one.

He continued, “Know much about politics? Follow it, do you?”

The sweat trickled in my armpits. I said, offhand, “I know as much as the next man, perhaps a little more.”

“Tell me, what do they say of me in the agora?”

I was so relieved and surprised at the question, I told him the truth.

“They don’t talk of you all, Themistocles.”

He almost lifted off the couch. “They
what
!”

“Sorry.”

“Doesn’t anyone talk about what will happen when Themistocles returns?”

“No.”

“Why not?” he demanded. “Many men have been ostracized, served their time, and returned to Athens to play as large a part in the city as they did before.”

“Yes, everything you say is true, Themistocles,” I said, attempting to be as tactful as I could manage. “Perhaps the difference in your case is … er … the difference is…” So much for not upsetting him.

“The difference is I am condemned for treason.” He said it in a flat tone.

“No one expects you to return.” I winced.

“We’ll see about that.”

I blinked.

“It is not all bad news,” I hurried on. “The people of Piraeus remember you with love and respect.” I repeated to Themistocles what the port captain had said to me.

“Do they now? Do they now?” He entered on a dissertation of the virtues of the men of Piraeus.

As Themistocles spoke my eyes began to wander, and I saw something astonishing. In each corner of the room was a krater, and all four were in the same shape, the same style, the same colors, and decorated with the same geometric patterns as the two amphorae I’d found in Thorion’s office and the stash in the warehouse at Ephesus. It was the connection I needed.

“Themistocles,” I broke in. “I can’t stop admiring your kraters.”

He stopped his monologue to say, “You have fine taste then. You are looking at the only remaining items from the lost treasure of Polycrates.” He said it as if I should recognize the name.

“Who?”

Themistocles stared at me in shock. “If you’ve never heard of Polycrates, then you don’t know one of the greatest men we Hellenes ever produced.” He tried to heave himself up, failed, and waved at the two guards behind him. They helped him to stand. “Come with me.”

Themistocles led me down the stairs and out to the paradise, to a corner where stood the statue of a man in his late middle years, balding but with a trim beard. Words engraved on the plinth proclaimed, “I am Polycrates, tyrant of Samos, first to rule the Aegean Sea.”

Themistocles said, “Sometimes I walk out here at night. I’ve stood exactly where you’re standing now and looked up at this statue, and wept.”

“Oh. Was Polycrates a friend of yours?”

“Never met the man. He died when I was a small child, sixty years ago if I’ve reckoned it correctly, which I think I have. Never has a man risen so high, nor fallen so far,” he said, oddly echoing what Callias had said of Themistocles himself.

“Polycrates ruled as tyrant on the island of Samos. He made the people of the island wealthy. Then he built the largest fleet in the world and used it to extend his power over the other islands in the Aegean. At his height, Polycrates ruled more Hellenes than any man before him. His empire bordered the empire of the Persians, much the same as the situation between Athens and Persia today.”

Themistocles eased himself down onto a bench. “Polycrates was murdered. You’re standing on the spot where he died.”

He said it with such immediacy, as if the death were recent, that I looked about me for the body. Of course, only the statue marked the scene of the crime.

“Who killed him?”

“A man called Oroetes. In those days, Oroetes was the satrap of this region, the same position I hold today. Oroetes tricked Polycrates into coming to Magnesia. Oroetes said he was in fear of his life at the hands of the Great King and asked Polycrates for asylum, in return for which he would hand over his own large treasure.

“Polycrates was blinded by the thought of the wealth a man like Oroetes might bring, and would have left for Magnesia immediately, had not his friends and his daughter begged him to show more caution. So instead Polycrates sent an advance agent to Magnesia. Oroetes was ready for him. The agent was shown chest after chest of gold coins and silver. What he didn’t know was each chest contained genuine coins only to a shallow depth, and thereafter nothing but stone or lead.

“The agent reported that the wealth of Oroetes was vast indeed. Polycrates hastened to Magnesia, bringing with him many expensive gifts for Oroetes. Oroetes captured Polycrates at once. Oroetes raised the pole and Polycrates was impaled. They say he spent many days dying in the greatest agony.”

I blinked. “Polycrates and Brion died the same way?”

“If they meet in Hades they’ll be able to compare assholes.”

“They died within a short distance of each other too,” I said.

“But sixty years apart. Some say Oroetes killed Polycrates for wealth and fame, but I think he murdered out of jealousy, because Polycrates was the better man.”

I wondered if there was a connection.

Themistocles said, “I admire any man who can carry off such a devious plot. Oroetes did a good job of it, didn’t he?”

“You admire an evil man because he does a good job of backstabbing a man you like?”

“Welcome to power politics. If a man could trick
me
like that, I’d have to admire his skills.”

“Oroetes won his wealth and fame then.”

“Not for long. He was assassinated a month later on the orders of the King, for the crime of being a little too powerful, a little too much of a threat.” Themistocles laughed. “Oroetes should have begged for genuine asylum. Oh, the Gods do like to make fools of us men.”