by Jay Penner
“Poseidon is not a happy god today,” said Theocratis, pointing at the waves. “Afraid of the water?”
“I am no fan of seas and storms.”
“Neither am I, but these are common occurrences.”
“The winds seem to favor going east, so why are we headed south struggling against it?” I asked, pointing to the Sun, and then arcing my finger to the South.
The man on the right, he had never mentioned his name, shot a glance at Theocratis.
“I, well, the oars master thinks this is how we should travel to avoid the worst of the storms, and then we turn again in a day.”
They had not refuted my observation that the vessel headed south.
“Ah. I know little about all this,” I said. “How long will this last?”
“It depends. A day at least.”
I made a sign to Poseidon, and they laughed.
I then turned towards Theocratis, “A day, of course. Indeed, a day. Would I know more than the officers of the Navy? Not at all, not all,” I said, and I rubbed my belly.
Theocratis’ eyes flickered before he broke into a grin. I returned to the back of the vessel, and we stayed there for some more time.
Eurydice followed me as we walked holding the railing. The skies had gotten darker, and lightning streaked at a distance. Theocratis was with three of his men. They huddled under a makeshift tent on the deck, buffeting them against the gust. As we approached, I noticed them stand up and one of them gripped the hilt of his sword.
We did not enter the tent. I held onto a mast pole, as the rain began.
For a moment, it all brought back memories of the battle against Porus in India.
The greenery.
The swollen, brown river.
Elephants in the mist.
The dark clouds and the rain that began before the whistles of the battle.
But we were not in India, and there was no army to face, except an angry sea and sky.
“Why are you here?” Theocratis asked. His demeanor had changed, and his stance, look, and the way he moved gave away his military background. He inched back and picked up a sword behind him.
No more games.
“Why are we headed to Egypt, Theocratis?”
“Who told you that?” he shouted. And one of his men began to move towards me.
“Tell your man to stay where he is,” I said.
Theocratis signaled, and they stopped.
The hostility was unmistakable. I looked around quickly; no one else was visible. The oarsmen and their masters were below. Two other officers were in the back.
Four against two. Or four against one-and-half considering Eurydice’s size. I pulled my kopis out and pushed Eurydice behind me.
I reached back and felt the cold blade of her serrated dagger. A brand new one, very sharp, as we had purchased it before our departure from Egypt. Earrings, necklace, and a dagger. Fine purchases for a woman.
There was little space to maneuver where we stood. The vessel narrowed in front, and Theocratis and his band crowded the deck. One of his men kicked the supports of the makeshift tent, and we were now in the open.
A steady rain began to drench us, and the winds became ferocious. The vessel rocked as the waves slammed against it. Theocratis and his three men spread themselves as best as they could.
Theocratis stepped forward. “Listen to what I have to say.”
“You can do that without coming near, go ahead.”
“You are acting strangely. We are only turning South to manage the storm.”
How stupid did he think I was?
“Time for lies is over Theocratis. I was not the advisor for one of Alexander’s smartest generals for nothing.”
He smiled. A mirthless, cold smile as rain splattered his hair over his eyes. He spat some water. “It is in your best interests not to fight.”
“Why not?”
“Cooperate, and the Governor promises leniency.”
I realized that Ptolemy had ordered him to bring us back alive and in good condition. Then I remembered something from our conversation from a few days ago. “Who will you hand us to?” I asked, as I wiped my face and steadied myself.
“Ptolemy. I will secure your safety and take you to him in Memphis.”
Liar.
“And you promise not to inform our capture to captain Nekh-Aser.”
“Of course.”
He knew Nekh-Aser.
“How could you deliver me to Ptolemy in Memphis if he is already on the way to Triparadisus as you told me a few days ago?”
The vessel swayed as a large wave slammed against the sides. Theocratis’ men formed a chain to support each other. His demeanor changed. Gone was the polite negotiator.
Each man drew his sword and held it low.
“You have a choice, Deon, to secure your life, or die a painful death if you do not cooperate.”
“You know my name too, how magical. It seems to me that there is no choice.”
He ignored me. “Prolong this, and I swear you both will wish you were dead.”
“You sound like that dirty pig, Nekh-Aser.”
They inched forward.
The Egyptian officer to my far left.
Macedonian next to him.
Then Theocratis.
And then another Macedonian.
What fools we had been as we dined with them.
I nudged Eurydice to my side, and she held her blade in the open.
“Your whore holds that knife like she holds every cock!” yelled the Egyptian, drawing laughs from the others.
“Maybe if you had any dignity you would not be a Greek’s bitch,” she shouted back, mimicking my comments to Ptolemy in Memphis.
The Egyptian only laughed.
Then Eurydice spat at him and made a gesture. The Egyptian seemed deeply offended and screamed at her; then he charged.
Theocratis still held his ground and shouted, “Stand back! Stand back!”
But it was too late. Eurydice ducked his swing, and the momentum caused the Egyptian to lose his balance. Before he could react, her serrated knife glinted as she plunged it into his abdomen and sliced it upward.
He screamed and staggered back, and Eurydice stabbed him again, right between the legs. The Egyptian howled, and fell, writhing on the floor.
“Get back,” I yelled, and she moved back to a narrow side passage on the side, ensuring only one man could engage her at a time.
The Macedonian to my left went after Eurydice.
Theocratis and his lieutenant stayed.
It was time to act.
I lunged on the wet, slippery floor towards them. Theocratis jumped in the front, and I kicked him hard in the stomach.
He flew back and fell.
I stood straight and turned to the lieutenant.
He raised his sword to parry my attack and realized too late that I had a knife in my other hand. As I struck a blow to his sword with my kopis, I thrust my blade into his chest.
He looked down in disbelief.
Not a sound as he dropped like a rock.
Theocratis was back on his feet. I could not turn to see what was happening with Eurydice.
The despair on his face showed. Nowhere to run.
I closed in on him as he stepped back. All his bravado stuck in his throat. My senses were right—this man had lived a comfortable life for too long, and he thought he was a real soldier.
The Egyptian's wailing dissipated in the lashing rain and crashing waves.
I watched Theocratis as I closed the distance.
Then I sensed a presence behind me. One of the oars masters was back on the deck through stairs that was closer to the sail mast. He stopped when he saw the sight in front him. I pointed my kopis towards Theocratis and knife towards the oars master. He seemed in shock and prepared to run.
“Don’t run. Step slowly towards me and listen to what I have to say.”
He hesitated.
“I said come forward, or you w
ill face the same fate as those two,” I said, pointing to the two men on the floor. He squinted at the bodies and the blood mixing with the rainwater that drained to the sides.
I signaled him to walk to my side and make an arc, between Theocratis and me. “Did you know that your commander planned to put you and your crew to death once you arrived at Alexandria?” I asked as thunder cracked above us.
“What?” The oars master sounded alarmed.
“He’s lying!” shouted Theocratis, but still too scared to advance on me.
Where was Eurydice?
“You were part of a find and retrieve mission, and due to the nature of the secret, since you saw us, he would put you all to death.”
The oars master stood frozen, unsure of what to make of what he was seeing and hearing. But the doubt in his mind was enough to keep him from trying anything stupid.
“Go down, say nothing to anyone. I will explain. No harm will come to you from me,” I said.
“The governor wants him and his woman, there is no danger to you.”
The oars master seemed in a trance, not listening, as rain beat on his chest and back. Shakily he walked back, all the while staring and saying not a word.
I hoped he would keep his mouth shut.
It was time to deal with Theocratis.
“Listen Theocratis, or whatever your name is, you have one chance to be truthful.”
“Do you think you will get away with this?”
“All I have to do is join Antigonus and Ptolemy can do nothing.”
Theocratis would know that to be true. He had no leverage over me, not here.
He wavered. “What do you want?”
“What we agreed on. Take us to Sidon—well, not exactly Sidon, but nearby, and we will let you go.”
Silence.
“I have no desire to kill you Theocratis—"
“My name is Polymedes.”
“Polymedes. You can go your way, and we will go ours. Now stay where you are and ponder over it.”
He did not move. Facing him, I walked sideways towards the pathway where Eurydice had vanished.
With my kopis pointed forward, I began to walk backward, holding the ledge. And then Theocratis, no, Polymedes, did the inexplicable.
He lunged at me like a mad man.
I swung my kopis, but he had an advantage over me, and his strike dislodged the blade from my hand. I reached forward, grabbed his neck, and gripped his forearm with my right. He was unable to strike me with his sword. Polymedes may not have been an expert, but he had the strength of youth in him. We fought on the slippery floor that rocked us like an angry mother swinging her baby. We spit, strained to see each through the curtains of water, and grappled each other.
I was beginning to tire.
“Stop it! Save yourself when you can,” I shouted, as I swallowed water.
“I was not sent here to save myself. Now surrender and give up.” He shouted. It seemed like the gods of the underworld possessed him.
Or Nekh-Aser.
I had had enough.
I dropped on a knee, and he slipped. Then using all my strength, I rammed my head to his belly and pushed him against the guardrails. As he struggled, I wrapped my arms under his knees and lifted him off the ground.
Then I threw him overboard.
Polymedes shouted as he fell. But I had not thrown him far enough, for he managed to grip the barrier. He hung on the side and began to scream, "Lift me!"
I pulled my knife out of my sheath and looked down. I felt no pity staring into his frantic eyes. I placed the edge of my knife on his knuckles and sliced off his fingers like I cut vegetables. The sharp blade ripped through the tendons and cracked the bones.
He screamed in terror as he fell into the dark waters below. He frantically tried to grab the oars, but the powerful waves knocked him and pulled him away. The rain beat down on us, and Polymedes’ shouts went unheard. His head bobbed in and out of the swelling seas and his hands raised in desperation.
I watched as he vanished behind another swell.
Then I ran to find Eurydice. Two figures were lying on the passageway.
No, no, no, no, no.
The Macedonian lay on her and his bulk hid her body underneath.
And there was blood. Everywhere. Pooling and not washed away even with the rain.
MACEDON
❅
Their rescue from the slave caravan seemed like eons ago. The letter from Deon that he was well had lifted their spirits and kept Krokinos at bay. The relief was short-lived, for Krokinos was getting impatient again. The improved treatment had lasted only a few months, as the promise of repayment along with a handsome bonus had lifted Krokinos’ spirits, and for a while, he saw Apollonia and her daughter as valuable possessions worthy of a modicum of kindness. But just as the foliage changes with the weather, so did Krokinos’ mood and attitude as the winds got colder.
Today it all came to a head.
“Where is that bastard husband of yours? He sends an armed contingent to my house to pay a portion and layers that with promises. It has been months and I see no man walking through those doors with my money!” He screamed. He looked like a vulture about to pick on its prey, his head bobbing and beak nose moving back and forth as he gestured angrily.
“He will come, master. Why would he take the effort to send those men and pay a portion if he did not intend to return?”
“But he has not returned! I do not need an expensive servant and her useless daughter!”
Apollonia’s face reddened at the slight and the remark on her daughter, who, still not yet of age, toiled like any grown woman.
“She works hard—”
Diona, who stood by Krokinos while he harangued Apollonia, now joined.
“She eats more than she works! The wench casts amorous eyes on my son and no doubt plans to steal him and our fortunes along with him!”
“She is too young for those thoughts, mistress!” Apollonia’s voice rose.
“Who do you think you are, you whore, raising your voice!” Diona lunged forward and grabbed Apollonia by her hair and yanked. Then she viciously began to slap her, all the while cursing and drenching them all with her spittle.
Apollonia collapsed at the assault, and Diona let go—her chest heaving, face red, and her eyes ablaze with hate and a sense of power. Then she turned at her husband. “Why are they still in the upper-level quarters? What royalty are they that you decided to indulge them?”
“I was expecting Deon to return anytime, and it seemed like—”
“Seemed like what, husband? What makes you think that that charlatan will return to fulfill his fake promises? How long do you think you will coddle these princesses?”
“I am not—”
Diona would not allow Krokinos to finish whatever thought he had. “Are you trying to sleep with her? Aren’t your whores enough?”
“No, by Zeus Diona, I never have—”
“Then move them to the basement! Let them stay with the wretched, and I swear if that son of a street donkey does not return in the next few months we will sell them, and this time it will be final! Final!”
“Yes, I will. I understand. I agree. Now let me take care of this and stop nagging me!”
The couple quarreled for some more time as Apollonia lay in a puddle of tears. Eventually, Diona left, leaving Krokinos alone with her. The sobs intermittently broke the dark mood in the room. Apollonia felt Krokinos’ breath near her hair and his cold deathly grip on her shoulder. Apollonia tensed, and sat up facing her tormentor.
“Diona is worried, rightfully so. Our situation is far from what it used to be, what with all the happenings around,” he said, and then began to caress Apollonia’s back. She felt bile rise in her throat and saw the dirty lust in Krokinos’ eyes. Apollonia shirked back. Krokinos did not stop, and this time he reached forward and grabbed Apollonia’s breast, whispering, “I can make it better for both of you.”
She recoiled, pushing his hands
away. “Please do not lay your hands on me,” she said, meeting his eye. Krokinos was stunned at the display of resistance, and the rejection stung him. Rejection from a woman who would be a slave! Undeterred, Krokinos pushed himself on her, this time trying to disrobe Apollonia. With all her might she struck him on his chest, causing him to lose his balance and fall. Krokinos scrambled to his feet and began to shout, veins pulsing under his temples and throat.
“You harlot! Your husband borrowed money so he could employ a hundred whores like you, and you think it’s beneath your dignity to spread your legs for me!”
Apollonia took a sharp breath. The words sliced her like an executioner’s blade—she had long suspected what Dion had done, and she had heard innuendoes but treated them as lies. But to listen to it from Krokinos’ mouth confirmed her fears, and once Krokinos cursed her some more and left the room, she began to gently rock and cry. If she were to be put in a slave line again, she would end her life and kill her daughter.
From the next day, they were moved to the basement—a large, windowless, squalid room that held many others who lived in in these abject conditions for unknown transgressions. Their life changed once again, and this time they were no better than disfavored slaves in the house. The living conditions were abysmal, and food only fit for beggars.
Filth, beatings, and an endless demand for work were companions as each day passed with no news of her husband.
CAPPADOCIA
❅
Eumenes was distraught. It had been months since Deon had left, and there was no news of him and Eurydice since their escape from Memphis. Perdiccas was dead, Ptolemy had prevailed, and now through a twisted turn of events, he was alone.
How cruel were the gods? His defeat of two great generals had meant nothing. In the recent conference at Triparadisus, the constellation of warlords, governors, and satraps had singled him as the enemy. The council carved Alexander’s empire like an elephant’s carcass—Ptolemy received Egypt, Libya, and the lands beyond; Antigonus—Asia Minor; Seleucus—Babylonia all the way to the skirts of India; and a host of others received pieces here and there. But Eumenes’ loyalty to Perdiccas and his hand in the deaths of Craterus and Neoptolemus had sealed his fate.
