A Song For Nero

by Tom Holt

  But it looks like it's too late to do anything about that now I decided to change the subject. 'Honestly,' I said, 'I was convinced you'd got yourself drowned, when the ship went down—'

  He clicked his tongue, like he'd just resigned himself to wasting time on chatting with some boring old fart when there were things he should be doing.

  'It was pretty damn close,' he said. 'I came up, and there was a bit of timber floating, so I grabbed hold of that and hung on. Don't know how long I was in the water, but just when I was sure I'd had it, a ship came along. Real slice of luck, that was.'

  Right, I thought. All I got was a floating coffin, good condition, one careful owner. Might've known he'd get a proper ship. 'How about the others?' I said.

  'The skipper and the rest of the crew?'

  He shrugged. 'Never saw anybody else,' he said, 'so I guess they bought it.

  Terribly sad, but these things happen. I remember thinking at the time, this is a judgement on me for what I did to my mother, that damned ridiculous collapsing yacht. But no, a ship happened to be passing, and it picked me up and rescued me. And that,' he added, 'is where I met Philocrates.'

  'Who?'

  'My friend. The man who talked to me just now Your other friend, I thought; and then, your new friend. I decided I didn't like Philocrates.

  'And that was a stroke of luck, too,' he went on. 'Turned out the ship was headed for Corinth, and Philocrates had booked a passage all the way Soon as he found out I was a musician too, he suggested we should team up and try our luck in Athens. He paid my fare, out of his own money, and here we are. We're doing well — he's a damned fine flute-player — and that's all there is to it, really'

  He drank some wine, then remembered something he'd forgotten and added, 'How about you?'

  Somehow, I didn't feel like telling him about the reef and the coffin and Scheria. 'More or less the same,' I said. 'I got picked up too, and I couldn't think of anywhere else to go, so here I am. And it hasn't worked out too bad, as you can see.

  'No.' He frowned a little. 'No, it hasn't,' he said doubtfully 'So long as you're safe, that's the main thing.'

  He said that like he meant it, a bit. Then he looked over my shoulder. 'Look,' he said, 'I really do want to hear all about what you've been up to, and there's a few things we've got to get straight about the future, but right now I've got to run. If we can get this dinner-party job, it could be the making of us. Be sure to look me up,' he added, getting to his feet, 'next time you're in town.

  All right?'

  I tried to grab his tunic, but he'd gone. Wonderful, I thought; if he'd been that quick and agile when he was going around with me, maybe we wouldn't have wound up in so many condemned cells. Anyway, I didn't follow him. I just sat there, feeling like I'd just come home from the war after ten years' wandering, and immediately been slung in the coop for loitering.

  There wasn't anything I wanted to do in town, so I went back to the inn, paid my tab, got my horse and went home. A drink would've been nice, but Blandinia and my dear mother had recently moved all the jars of wine out of the barn and into the inner room, where I used to sleep, presumably so they wouldn't have to leave the house when it was dark or raining. I pushed open the bunkhouse door and drooped in, to find Ptolemy and Smicro on the mattress, making love. 'Sorry,' I muttered, and pushed off to the barn, where the cow gave me a nasty look and the dog tried to bite me.

  Oh well, I thought.

  It's boring, sitting on your own in a barn, so I got a hoe and a shovel, and walked out to the two-acre to trench up the vines I'd planted there. At least they seemed pleased to see me, though maybe they were just being polite. My back started hurting but I kept at it in a desultory sort of a way for an hour or so.

  Then someone called out my name, and I looked round. It turned out to be another neighbour of mine, a nice enough bloke in his way, name of Demetrius.

  'Someone was round my place looking for you,' he said. 'Foreigner.'

  That made me stop and think, Of course, in Phyle, foreigner doesn't just mean non-Greek, or even non-Athenian; it could just as easily mean a city type, or someone from Pallene or Acharnae. 'Really?' I said. 'Did he tell you his name?'

  Demetrius lifted his head. 'Just asked me if I knew where a rat-faced bloke called Galen might be. Truth is, I didn't like the look of him much, so I said I'd never heard of you. Sorry, were you expecting anybody?'

  'No,' I said. 'What did he look like, this bloke?'

  'Foreign,' Demetrius said. 'Big, rough-looking, sandy hair going a bit thin on top. Smart dresser, though. I reckoned he must be either a loan-shark's runner or the government. Anyway I hope that was all right.'

  I shrugged. 'I don't think I know anybody looking like that,' I said, 'and I'm getting too old to make new friends. Thanks.'

  'That's all right. If he comes round again, I'll let you know It was only when he'd gone I thought he might be an old pal of yours from the army or something.'

  I lifted my head. 'Turns out I never had any friends in the army' I told him. He wasn't sure what to make of that, but he didn't say anything. We chatted about the vines for a little while, and then he went home.

  I'd managed to play it cool while he was stood there, but I'm telling you, I was scared. There was nobody out of the past I ever wanted to see again — not now — and I didn't suppose he was a lawyer come to tell me my long-lost uncle in Corinth had died and left me a fortune. The only question was, what to do next.

  My instincts told me, clear out. Don't even bother going back to the house for a change of clothes, he might be there waiting. After all, I had shoes on my feet; it wouldn't have been the first time I'd set out on a long journey with my entire fortune invested in footwear. But I was feeling weary; tired from my journey tired of pretty much everything.

  I knew a bloke once, a great big fat guy, and he was in a field one time, and didn't realise till it was too late that the bull had got in there somehow. It charged him, and he started to run, but there was a hefty stone wall all round that field, too high for him to hop over, so he had to keep on running, with the bull after him, and he ran and he ran, until finally he was completely out of puff and his legs felt like octopus feet, all floppy and bendy 'And so,' he told me, 'I said to myself, Bugger this, he'll just have to gore me.' So he stopped running, and the bull stopped too, and after they'd stood there looking at each other for a while, the bull wandered off and started feeding, and he strolled over to the gate and let himself out.

  And why not? I said to myself. It can't be Amyntas, because I saw him dead with my own eyes. Don't suppose it's Strymon, because he's supposed to be dead too.

  Could be any one of about a million other people I'd pissed off rotten over the years, but then again, it might be something quite other; some layabout, maybe, looking for work and he'd got my name somewhere as an easy touch. Truth is, if I'd heard the news any other day apart from that one, maybe I'd have done something different. But that day, what with one thing and another, I couldn't be bothered.

  I looked up at the sky It was starting to get dark, and I figured that Ptolemy and Smicro must be finished by now, so it was probably safe to go back to the bunkhouse and get some sleep. So I walked home, taking my time. There was nobody about when I got there, so I kicked off my boots, lay down on my mattress and fell asleep.

  I woke up because some bastard was prodding me in the ribs. I opened my eyes and saw it was my mother, of all people. And not far off sober, at that. 'All right,' I groaned, 'where's the bloody fire?'

  'There's a man to see you,' she grunted. 'And don't use language like that, talking to your mother.'

  I pulled on my boots and tramped over to the house. There, sitting behind my table, looking like he was the one who lived there and I was some tramp, was Tityrus, the helmsman from the grain freighter.

  Well, yes, I thought, now you come to mention it, he's a big, mean-looking bloke with sandy hair. But I'd been sure he was dead. Still, I'd been known to be wrong about that sor
t of thing.

  'Hello, Galen,' he said. 'You look like shit.'

  I saw he had a bloody great big army dagger stuck through his belt; you notice weapons when you've been around like I have. But I'd never done him any harm that I could remember. 'Tityrus, for God's sake,' I said. 'I thought you'd drowned.'

  He grinned. 'Came pretty close,' he said. 'I was swimming round for hours, round and round in circles. Saw a ship, but the buggers didn't see me. Thought I'd had it for sure, but bugger me if another ship didn't suddenly pop up out of nowhere, just as I was about to give it away Took me to Acragas, and there I signed on with a crew headed for Alexandria, the long way round up the side of Italy, down the Thracian coast, in and out of every poxy little inlet. We're laying over three days in Piraeus, shore leave, and I was hanging round the market square wishing I hadn't spent all my pay when, fuck me, I saw you. In a right hurry, you were, on a horse; I ran, but I couldn't catch up with you, and then I remembered, Phyle, where you said you come from. So I took a chance and came up here, hitched a ride on a carrier's cart.' He shook his head. 'Don't know what you've done to piss off your neighbours, but nobody round here reckons they've ever heard of you, except this lady—' He nodded towards my mother, who was looking mustard down her nose at him.

  'She's my mum,' I explained.

  'Ah, right,' he said. 'Anyhow, it's good to see you. For a moment there I thought I'd seen a ghost, probably comes of drinking too much salt water.' He frowned. 'You've done all right for yourself, by the looks of it.'

  When dealing with people from my past who show up out of the blue, I've always been guided by two rules. When in doubt, lie. When not in doubt, lie anyway 'Nothing to do with me,' I said. 'When I got here, I found out my cousins had died. So now this place is mine, for what it's worth.'

  I was half expecting my mother to jump in and tell him I was lying through my teeth, but at least she had the wit to keep her face shut; after all, it was her home too, and she was prepared to take it on trust that if I was telling fibs to my old mate here, I had my reasons.

  'Well,' said Tityrus, 'that was a stroke of luck, I guess. But how did you get out of the wreck alive, for crying out loud? I was sure I was the only one.

  So I told him; most of it, anyway I left out the floating coffin, made it sound like it was the first ship he saw that picked me up, and I didn't say anything about Scheria, either — I guessed he might not've been too thrilled to hear I'd given away all subsisting rights in Dido's treasure when his claim to it was every bit as good as mine. Which reminded me; I hadn't given it a thought since I'd been home. But I didn't really think Tityrus had flogged all the way out here just to chat about old times on the Acragas to Ostia run. I didn't mention Lucius Domitius, either. Apart from that, and my gold belt, I told it pretty well straight.

  'Amazing,' he said when I'd done. 'And talk about your freak chances, me catching sight of you like that in the market. Like it's destiny or something.'

  He looked at me. 'Fancy a stroll?' he said. 'You can show me round this spread of yours.'

  I looked up at Mum, standing behind him, ears flapping like an elephant in a thunderstorm. 'Why not?' I said. 'And you're staying to dinner, aren't you?'

  Mum made a sort of snorty-grunty noise, but I ignored her, and Tityrus and I went out together. Soon as we were clear of the house, where the women wouldn't hear us, he grabbed my arm and said, 'All right, Galen, what's the story? You didn't inherit this place, you bought it. Bloke at the inn told me you'd come home with money Where'd you get it from?'

  I sighed. 'Where'd you think?' I said. 'I nicked a little something from the treasure, while we were loading. I suppose you want your cut.'

  He looked genuinely hurt. 'That's not a very nice thing to say It's your good fortune, you enjoy it, mate. Besides.' He grinned, and reached inside his tunic, pulling out a big, chunky gold bracelet on a bit of string. 'You weren't the only one. Soon as I can fence this, I'll be just fine. Charter a ship, get a crew together, blokes I know in Sicily , they're all right; we'll go back, find that island, we'll all be rich as Caesar. No, reason why I came chasing out here after you is so you can join us. After all, it's your treasure as much as it's mine.'

  No kidding, I was stunned, like you'd just bashed me on the head with a fencing mallet. He was telling the truth, no doubt about that; I can recognise lies, the way a fish recognises water. Here he was, this evil-looking thug with a dagger in his belt, and he'd searched me out just so he could give me a second chance at being unspeakably rich. I could've burst into tears on the spot.

  'Well,' he said impatiently, 'what about it? Got to be worth giving it a go.

  It'd be mortal sin to leave all that stuff just lying there, where any old toerag could come along and find it. I was steering the ship, remember. I'm positive I can find the place again. What d'you say?'

  I could hardly say a word. 'Tityrus,' I told him, 'for God's sake, don't go out there looking for that stuff, it'll kill you. Sell your bracelet and buy a farm, settle down, get a life for yourself. You saw what happened to Amyntas. Anybody you take with you, they'll cut your throat in a heartbeat. Take the hint, can't you? You and me, we got out alive. All the rest of them are dead.'

  He looked hurt and bewildered. 'Don't be a prat, Galen,' he said. 'I'm not some shithead Roman, I know who I can trust and who I can't. And this time we know it's there, we know what's involved, we can make plans, get everything we need ready in advance. It'll just be a case of getting there, getting the stuff and we'll be free and clear. All our troubles will be over.'

  I really wished he hadn't said that. 'Tityrus,' I said, 'it's a wonderful thing, you giving me this chance and all, you're all right, no doubt about it.

  But I'm not going. See, I'm free and clear already All my troubles are over; and I really don't want to start them up again, just when they look like they've wandered off and decided to leave me alone. You find the treasure, and bloody good luck to you. You have my share. You deserve it, I don't.'

  He looked at me for a long time, then shook his head. 'I don't get you,' he said. 'You ungrateful little shit. When I saw you today I thought, this can't just be a fluke, this has got to be a sign, from the gods. And now you just stand there and spit in my face. What did I ever do to you to deserve that, Galen?'

  Ungrateful little shit, I thought. Must be catching, or something. 'I told you,' I said, 'I don't want it. Don't want to be as rich as Caesar, it's a mug's game. You know what? All I ever wanted, as far back as I can remember, was to be a nice quiet little farmer, here in Phyle.' (Who's the farmer, Lucius Domitius' friend had asked him. Me, that's who. And that, looking back, was the moment when Ulysses must've come home.) 'Really and truly I want you to find the treasure, get it away safely, have everything you ever wanted. Just like I've got,' I added. 'Right here.'

  'Don't talk daft,' Tityrus said. 'Just look at this place, it's a dump. Just a rotten little farm like they give you when you've done twenty years in the army And you've got a pisshead for a mother, and a wife who's not much better—'

  'She's not my wife, actually' I said. 'Just the maid.'

  'Well, there you go. Man of your age, hasn't even got a wife.

  Before you know it, you'll be a shrivelled-up old man leaning on a hoe, like a million other dirt-scratchers. You can't want this. It's a dump. It's shit.'

  'It's what I deserve,' I said. 'Actually it's a whole lot more. I never deserved anything, except a cross and two busted knees. Can't you see, Tityrus? I'm home.

  I don't want to come out and play any more.

  He stared at me, or where he guessed I was in the darkness. 'Well, fuck you, then,' he said, and walked away I called after him —don't be daft, come in and have some dinner, stay the night but he didn't answer. I could've run after him (like he ran after me) but I was afraid I'd trip over something and hurt myself.

  I went inside.

  'Where's your friend?' Mum asked.

  'He had to go,' I said. 'Remembered something important in town.'


  She looked at me like I was the place where the dog had just squatted. 'Oh for God's sake,' she said. 'I've just fried some fish, and there's chickpeas to go with it.'

  I sighed. 'Enjoy,' I said. 'Don't worry, I'm not stopping.'

  'That's all right, then,' she said. 'Blandinia, fetch out a fresh jar, it's just you and me for dinner.'

  I went back to the bunkhouse. It was dark, the Syrians were asleep. I kept quiet, so as not to disturb them. I lay down and tried to go to sleep, but instead I just lay there, thinking about ungrateful little shits I'd known: both of us.

  Next evening, on my way back from the fields, I ran into Demetrius again. He waved at me to stop, and hurried over.

  'Guess what,' he said. 'That bloke, the one who was asking about you.

  'Oh yes,' I said. 'What about him?'

  He grinned. 'He's only dead, that's what. Last night, Iphicrates and his boy fished him out of the creek down on their three-acre. What they're saying is, he must've been going back to town in the dark where the road's narrow, on the hillside there; slipped and fell, bashed his head on a stone on the way down, pitched in the creek, drowned.' He shook his head. 'Well, I told them, it's entirely possible it could've happened that way Course, I didn't let on I'd ever seen the bloke, or that he'd been asking for you.' Then something seemed to strike him; he looked up at me sharply, then looked away 'Anyhow,' he said, 'I thought I'd mention it. Just in case you hadn't heard.'

  I said thank you, nicely as I could, and went home. Looking back, I realise now, Demetrius must've thought I'd killed the man, because he'd come looking for me and seemed like trouble. That's the thing about people, they're never happy with the obvious explanation; because of course it's possible, perfectly possible, more than likely A man can drown in a little creek in Phyle just as easily as in the deep, dark African sea, when his ship founders in a storm and every soul aboard her is lost. A man can drown pretty well anywhere, it's just a matter of how he chooses to go about it, and what for.