by Gary Corby
Araxes used the moment. He jumped onto Cleophantus’ horse and kicked him into a gallop.
The dust in the air settled. Four Persian soldiers were down: one dead, two with injuries that were probably fatal, and one who would live.
“Thank the Gods you’re here,” I said to Cleophantus as he picked himself up. “How did you find me?”
“Asia ran back to the palace and broke in on a public audience. She announced what had happened in front of everyone and created quite a stir. Father ordered Barzanes to search. There are men all over the city looking for you, including that priestess. She started tearing the town apart.”
“Diotima?” I said, alarmed. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine, but Father ordered her back to the palace. The guards who had to carry her—” He shook his head. “I suppose they’ll heal.
“Then some pushy kid called Macrobianos turned up at the palace and reported seeing you.” Cleophantus screwed up his face. “He demanded up-front payment. Father refused. You owe me a small fortune.
“The boy said a group of horsemen left the city, and we followed. Barzanes didn’t want me with the soldiers, and Father tried to dissuade me, but I insisted. We rode with scouts to both sides of the road. One of the scouts heard your … ah … calls for attention.” He looked over at the erect pole with its shiny, greased point waiting for a victim. Cleophantus shuddered. “I don’t blame you. I would have screamed too.”
“Ahura Mazda has been kind to you,” Barzanes said, walking up to Cleophantus and myself. “As for these”—he spat upon the bloodied corpse of Durgo—“these are the spawn of the Daevas, and their souls will rot in Worst Existence.”
“Thank you for rescuing me.”
“Unlawful death is hateful to the Great King and must be punished. As the King commands, so I do.”
“Lord Barzanes! This man lives.”
One of the surviving Persians held up a defeated brigand. It was Cheiro, who had erected the pole but been too tired to impale me.
Barzanes studied Cheiro with his usual dispassion. After several heartbeats that seemed like a lifetime, Barzanes said, “Use the pole.”
“Noooo!”
The Persians dragged Cheiro and ripped down his trousers.
I said, “Barzanes, this is too cruel.”
“It is the penalty for his crime. If I send him back to Magnesia, the Satrap must pronounce the same sentence, but in a day or two. That would be cruel indeed, to leave a man waiting when his fate is assured. I am the Eyes and Ears of the King. It is within my power to pronounce sentence at once.”
I looked away as they put him on. To cover the noise of his screams I said, “The man who rode off, his name is Araxes. You want him. He’s the man who took Asia.”
Cleophantus took the mount of one of the men who’d fallen and pulled himself up. “That’s it then, he dies.”
Barzanes said, “Wait, Cleophantus. The Satrap gave no orders—”
“You think my father would hesitate if he knew? Come on if you like, or not, but I’m going after the man who stole my sister. I’ll report back when I’m done.”
Was this the effete playboy Callias had told me was a coward?
Barzanes swore, “Evil Daevas!” He had no choice, and indeed he shouldn’t have needed one. He detailed four men to get the injured back to the city and ordered the remaining two to follow Cleophantus.
I was the last to leave. Before I did, I walked over to Cheiro. He stood with the stake deep inside him. Cheiro watched as I picked up a sword of the fallen brigands.
He said, “Thank you. In the heart, if you please.”
* * *
“Can we catch him?” I asked after I caught up with the others.
Cleophantus said, “Not on the road. He’s on the best horse in Magnesia. I should know, I bought and trained him myself.”
“What if Araxes turns off the road?”
“He won’t,” Cleophantus said with authority. “Once he’s in the rough, chance comes into play. Who knows when a galloping horse could put a hoof in a rabbit hole? No, he’ll keep his comfortable lead until we get to Ephesus.”
Barzanes nodded. “At Ephesus the criminal faces difficulty. It will take him time to pass through their gates, and the lords of Ephesus will give me what I demand. I do not think he can escape us.”
Araxes was visible in the distance. Every now and then he turned to keep an eye on us. Once I believe he waved at me in mock salute.
It was a strange sort of chase. We all trotted rather than galloped, even Araxes. Hunter and prey both needed their mounts to make the same long distance.
Cleophantus said, “Did you see me in the fight, Nicolaos?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the first time I’ve killed a man.” His eyes shone. “The first fight I’ve been in too, and I did well. Nico, I did well.”
He glanced at Barzanes and the soldiers, who were a few lengths ahead of us, and he said quietly, “What I said on our trail ride—it seems like ages ago now—about me and Father and Medizing. When we return to Magnesia, I’m telling Father I must return to fight for Athens.”
“Good fortune to you then,” was all I could say. I had no confidence his determination would stand up to the full glare of Themistocles’ personality. Mine certainly hadn’t.
“I’m sorry we involved you. I realize now a man has to solve his own problems, no matter what the consequences.”
The ride became tedious. The sun rose to its full height and sweat ran down my back, arms, and legs.
“My bottom’s sore,” I moaned to Cleophantus.
“It’s not as sore as it would be if we hadn’t found you.”
“Good point. Have I thanked you for saving me?”
“Several times, but feel free to say it again. If they’d got you on the pole, even for a moment, you would have died. No one ever survives once it’s in them.”
“I see Ephesus,” Barzanes announced from the lead. “We have him now.”
The horses breathed heavily and were in obvious distress, but the tough beasts had stayed the course.
Now I could see the city gates too. A knot of men and donkeys waited to pass. They would certainly hold up Araxes long enough for us to catch him.
Whether Araxes saw the problem too I don’t know, but I think he already knew his plan, because he didn’t pause.
“Why is he veering away?” Cleophantus asked, puzzled.
Araxes rode a path that cut a graceful arc to the right, away from the city gates toward the north. It was a path I’d seen before.
I shouted, “The bastard’s not going for Ephesus, he’s running for the sanctuary!”
“What?” Cleophantus said.
But Barzanes understood. “He runs for the Hellene temple called the Artemision. If he reaches it, they will not permit us to take him. We must catch the criminal before he arrives.”
Barzanes kicked his mount and accelerated. He cut the corner into the rough.
“Yah!” Cleophantus effortlessly pushed his mount to a gallop.
The Persian soldiers followed.
I stayed with the soldiers, then got a little ahead. My body bounced hard. It was like being kicked in the groin over and over.
It was a thousand paces to the Artemision.
I saw the guards atop the gates of Ephesus point at us. They saw a man on horseback being chased by men on horseback. More figures appeared atop the wall as men climbed to watch the race.
We rode recklessly through the scrub.
A leg snapped. I thought it was my horse and flinched, but the Persian behind me went down.
Three of us emerged onto the temple road.
Araxes was twenty lengths ahead. He hammered his feet into the animal’s sides and beat its hindquarters with a stick.
The temple was dead ahead.
The soldier bouncing beside me lost his seat. Gone like he’d fallen down a hole to Hades.
The horse ran on riderless.
&nbs
p; “Let me through!” Cleophantus yelled.
His mount surged past Barzanes and made for Araxes as if he were fresh for an Olympic race.
Cleophantus rode low along the neck, reaching forward with his spear held at arm’s length.
Araxes saw the threat. He stayed his course and didn’t look behind him again.
The Artemision loomed close.
Cleophantus couldn’t make it. He tossed his spear.
The spear caught between the legs of Araxes’ mount.
The horse of Araxes went down headfirst. The animal bellowed a last dying cry of rage as its neck snapped.
Araxes flew through the air. He landed with a resounding thump. He lay there for a moment. Then he pushed himself to his feet and began to run.
Cleophantus raced by and kicked Araxes down.
Cleophantus wheeled and drew his sword.
Barzanes and I caught up.
We all dripped with sweat. I was so exhausted I shook. I wanted to get off my horse, but I didn’t know if I had the strength.
Cleophantus raised the sword and said, “This is for Asia.”
I shouted, “No, Cleophantus, we need him alive!”
Cleophantus began his swing.
“Halt!” a man’s voice commanded. “This man is in sanctuary and may not be harmed. Nor may you take him.”
It was one of the priests of the Artemision. Our violent approach had attracted interest from the people at the temple. Men, women, and eunuchs were lined up along the front steps watching. The priest pointed behind us. Sure enough, a stone painted white lay not more than a man’s length from where Araxes was sprawled.
The horse in his moment of death had tossed Araxes far enough to live.
I could have cried.
Cleophantus burst out, “But he’s a murderer!”
Time passed while Cleophantus and I both argued with the priest. Barzanes looked on and said nothing. Araxes sat on the ground while the men standing over him decided his fate.
The priest was obdurate.
“The sanctuary rule must be enforced no matter what the man’s crime. He is welcome to remain here for as long as he wishes.” He looked to Barzanes, obviously recognizing that he was the senior man among us. “Even the Great King has decreed the sanctuary of Artemis is to be respected.”
Barzanes nodded. “You speak truth. Then, Priest, we shall wait outside the bounds. I will have soldiers patrol the border. Unless the man wishes to spend the rest of his life here, we must surely have him.”
“You have the power to order this?”
“I am the Eyes and Ears of the Great King.”
The priest had the look of someone who finds he’s swallowed a bug in his wine.
Barzanes asked, “You will feed this man?”
The priest, suddenly more helpful, said, “There is no requirement for the temple to feed the man, merely to protect him. His friends may bring him food, if he has any friends, that is.”
“I will ring this temple with troops. He will emerge when he is hungry enough, and then he will pay the price for his crimes.”
Araxes was bruised and bleeding, his clothing stained by sweat and horse, but he smiled and said in his pleasant voice, “May Artemis honor you, Priest. I’m willing to stay here as long as necessary for them to go away. Even if they camp outside forever, better a slow death within than what Barzanes would do to me without.”
“No less than you were prepared to do to me,” I growled.
“Practically the same,” he agreed amiably. “Gentlemen, it is obvious whatever activities I may have engaged in are over forever. You want me for only two things: revenge and information. Let us make this easy for each other. If you put away your revenge, I will present you with the information you want, on the understanding I will be permitted to depart Ephesus on the first ship out.”
“You’re willing to sell out your employer?” I asked.
“I won’t be hanging around for the retribution. I wonder what the weather’s like in Carthage?” he mused. “That should be far away enough … I hope.”
Barzanes said, without consulting, “It is unacceptable. You killed the merchant on the lands of the Great King, you must be punished for it.”
“I didn’t kill Brion.”
“You lie.”
“Wait, Barzanes,” I said. “I have more reason to hate him than most, but this might be our best chance to uncover the whole truth.”
“No.” Barzanes refused to make a deal.
I objected, “But he could identify the criminal.”
“He is the criminal. That there may be another does not exonerate him. Do you Hellenes let half your criminals go free because they informed on the other half? No, of course not; no honorable man could agree to this. Any city which did such a thing would collapse in lawlessness.”
“All right, what you say is true.”
“I ride to the city for men to surround the sanctuary. Cleophantus, you and the Athenian keep watch.” Barzanes rode off down the road.
Araxes said, “I’m thirsty, I haven’t had a drink since the morning.”
Cleophantus held up his water skin, beyond the white stone. “Come on over. I have plenty.”
Araxes smiled but said nothing. He walked around the temple and I followed, wanting to keep him in sight. Cleophantus mounted his horse and watched us from the border.
A channel had been cut to divert water from the stream that split around the temple. It emptied through a fountain. Araxes used a ladle to drink his fill, then turned in to enter the temple.
He found a niche in a distant corner, which was hung about with tapestries that gave us some privacy.
“Listen, Nicolaos—”
“Call me Nico.”
Araxes smiled. “Nico, I’m probably going to die soon. I’ve seen too many men die to want to go any way but fast. I’ll fall on a knife before I let them put me on the pole.”
I hesitated, then, “What if I can give you a way to not die?”
“I’d take it of course. What do I have to do?”
“Tell me the whole, complete truth, and if I believe you, I’ll let you go. You’ll still have Cleophantus to avoid, but that’s your problem.”
“What happened to men of honor not treating with thieves?”
“That’s Barzanes. I’m much more interested in results. I admit I wanted you very badly at the start, but now I realize you’re like me, Araxes, just some poor fool acting for someone else. The man I want is the one behind it all. But you’ll have to be quick, because Barzanes will be back any moment.”
“How will you explain my escape?”
“You surprised me, knocked me out, and tied me up.”
“I accept.”
“It started with the river, didn’t it? The Maeander River, and the dead farmer.”
Araxes nodded. “I must say you did well to work that out. The farmer found some coins and an old jar. He took it to Ephesus to sell. People do, around here, because they can get more than in Magnesia. Brion saw the amphora—he understood old pots and furniture—and recognized it as valuable. When he saw the picture on the coins he got excited.
“Brion quizzed the farmer closely. The man was guarded about where he’d found the stuff—it was obvious he planned to dig some more himself—but anyone could guess the man had found the stuff on his own land. Brion had to do some research to work out what he had, he found what he needed in the book they keep here in the temple.”
“The part in the Book of Heraclitus about not being able to step into the same river twice, Brion used it to prove he’d found the lost treasure of Polycrates. What everyone takes to be profound philosophy is actually the raving of a madman who knew where the treasure lay buried.”
“So Brion told me. I didn’t pay any attention myself.”
“The philosophers are going to be upset when I tell them,” I said, looking forward to deflating Diotima and Anaxagoras.
He chuckled. “They won’t believe you.”
He was probably right.
Araxes continued, “Brion needed someone to deal with the messier aspects; fortunately he knew someone who introduced him to me.”
“So you dealt with the farmer.”
“It was a quick drowning, perfectly natural for the area. No one questioned it. Afterward, the widow was only too happy to be paid decent money for the property. We packed her off to her brother’s house in Sardis.”
“No unfortunate accident for her?”
“No need.”
“Then you began digging up the stuff and exporting it to Athens. Brion’s trade connections would have been perfect for that. It had to be sent away because any attempt to sell Polycrates’ treasure locally would be spotted at once by people who knew the story.”
“Brion handled that end of it. He hid the coins and gold and silver items in the old amphorae, which he plugged. We split the profits three ways.”
“What went wrong?”
“I don’t know. Brion did something to destroy the operation. The next thing I knew, I had Themistocles on my back. I told you even the toughest hound slinks around a lion, but when the lion has his paw on your neck, you obey. Themistocles ordered me to chase down the letter—well, you know that.”
“You said Thorion died cursing you. You spoke to him?”
“Thorion laughed in my face, even as I had him in a death grip. He said his death didn’t matter, because he’d got word out of the coming invasion. It was news to me; Themistocles had told me nothing.”
If Thorion thought the note he’d written to Pericles was sufficient then he had an odd idea of what constituted a warning. But then, the man was about to die, and if his admission of treason was enough to ease his passing then who was I to argue. I’d faced death myself that day and knew what it did to a man’s mind. The knowledge that he’d confessed his crime might have been his only comfort.
I said, “Thorion spoke of being a traitor.”
“Then it must have been his guilty conscience. I’m told some men have them. Thorion’s only crime was common larceny on a grand scale, fencing stolen antiquities.”
Araxes sat with his back against the wall of the Artemision, the sweat running off him, and caked in the grime of his flight on horseback. “You know, Nicolaos, if Thorion hadn’t got that note off, you would have been none the wiser, you would never have come here, and I would not be sitting in this accursed temple awaiting my end.”
