Soldier of Arete (25 page)

"With Thamyris surrounded and the other Thracians afraid of us, I didn't think anything of going around Cobrys alone. I had my sword for footpads—which a man isn't allowed to wear back in Thought— and like I said, the city was friendly. I didn't even wear armor. What I should have done is taken Latro and the black man with me; they're my bodyguards, but I didn't think I needed them.

"Well, I got quite a surprise. I was sitting around in the house of a friend of mine, telling a few jokes and talking about business, when in comes a couple of high noblemen. Their faces were practically blue with tattoos, and by the stone I'm glad I won't have to look at those again for a while! Each had half a dozen henchmen with him, every one of them armed to the teeth. 'King Thamyris wants to talk to you,' they said. 'We've come to escort you to the palace.'

"I know what barbarians are like, and I could see I wasn't going to get out of that palace until I bought my way out, so I said I'd come tomorrow and pretended to be drunk. They weren't buying any, though. 'Our orders are to bring you,' they told me. They threw me down and tied my hands behind my back, and off we went.

"Latro here found out about it and came to the palace to try to get me out. They brought me in and told me they were going to make Latro kill me; it was just a threat to bring us around, of course, but I didn't like it and neither did he.

"Thamyris had a pet boar. It's one of the shapes Zalmoxis is supposed to take, so I imagine it was a sacred animal of some kind. I don't suppose you've ever been to Riverland, Kroxinas, but believe me, the country's full of them. Then, too, we've got owls in Thought, as you likely know; they're the sacred birds of our goddess, and her priests feed them.

"So to change the subject, Latro said, 'That's a lovely pig you've got there,' and went over to have a look at it. Thamyris must have thought he meant to harm it, so then everything turned upside down. He had half a dozen retainers with him, thinking that was enough to hold us, I suppose; but we killed a couple as quick as you could snap your fingers and were getting the upper hand of the rest when Latro saw that the boar was set to charge. 'Run,' he yelled to me, and believe me, we ran! That was the biggest boar you ever saw in your life, and it went for those Thracians like we went for the Great King's ships at the Battle of Peace."

Io asked, "Isn't that when Acetes came?"

Hypereides nodded. "That's right. Acetes had heard about what had happened to me, too, and he led the loyal Thracians' attack. If he hadn't, they probably would've killed Latro and me sooner or later. We had the wildest battle you ever saw; no formations and 'each man stand shield to shield for his city' stuff—this was the kind of real knock-down fighting old Homer tells about. I haven't had so much fun since Fennel Field."

Kroxinas, who had listened openmouthed, asked Io, "What became of Thamyris? Did they cut off his head?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact that's exactly what they did," Hypereides told him. "Cut it off, stuck it on the point of a lance, and put it up at the palace gate for everybody to see. But only after I'd killed him with my own hand."

Io nudged me as though to say, "I bet it was you, master."

I said, "I've been talking to Hegesistratus about the boar. No one ever killed it, he says."

Hypereides shook his head. "A hundred people have asked me what became of it, but I don't know."

Kroxinas's wife murmured, "Don't you think the boar might have been Zalmoxis himself? We're Hellenes, but we have people who worship Zalmoxis here." She shivered. "I don't think the baby prince's uncle would've tried to be king if he hadn't been promised it by some god."

Io told Hypereides, "Pleistorus doesn't like Zalmoxis. In Thrace we saw pictures of him sticking Zalmoxis with his spear."

Hypereides laughed. "Well, Pleistorus didn't come around to help us. I wish he had—we could have used him."

PART THREE

TWENTY-SIX

In Cimon's Garden

COMFORTABLY SEATED IN THE SHADE of an apple tree, the great men received us. Hypereides had described them to me already; thus I knew that the tough-looking, round-headed, blunt-featured man was Themistocles, and the tall, fine-looking, younger man Cimon, our host. Xanthippos we have met previously, so Io says, though I do not recall him. At any rate he greeted us as friends, and Cimon's servants brought stools for us.

"We've asked you here to discuss the death of Oeobazus," Themistocles began. I saw that he watched Oeobazus himself for his reaction, and so did I. There was none.

After a moment, Xanthippos chuckled. "Not many dead men have borne the news of their own demise with such equanimity, Oeobazus. You are to be congratulated."

The Mede's white teeth flashed like a sword in the thicket of his beard. "If you mean you're going to kill me, I've heard that in other places."

Themistocles shook his head. "I said only that you were here to talk about it. It took place quite some time ago. You were sacrificed by the Thracian barbarians to—what is it they call him?"

"Pleistorus," Hegesistratus prompted him.

Themistocles cocked an eyebrow. "He's one of their major gods? In that part of Thrace?"

Hegesistratus nodded. "Very much so."

"Good. That was the end of you, Oeobazus. Most certainly you never came to Thought or any other part of the Long Coast. Since we can clearly no longer call you Oeobazus, what would you like us to call you instead? Not by one of your family names, please."

The Mede thought quickly, or perhaps had been warned that some such question would be asked. "Why not Zihrun? I believe I'm entitled to that."

Xanthippos smiled, as did Hegesistratus and the black man. Seeing that no one else understood, Xanthippos explained, "It's 'Life chose me.' Certainly that's a good name for you, Zihrun. You're not unwilling to return to the Empire?"

At that Cimon spoke for the first time. There is nothing extraordinary about his clear, pleasant voice, and yet there is something very extraordinary about being spoken to by Cimon; I think it must come from the level gaze of those gray eyes. He said, "We won't tell you how dangerous this is for him. You're not children."

I looked around for Io, for she is indeed a child still, though she might say otherwise; but she and Elata had wandered away among the trees, perhaps feeling it more decent to leave men's talk to men. Polos was helping in the stable.

"Well put." Themistocles nodded. "We'll have to talk more about this in private, Zihrun—who you're to see and what you're to tell them, everything we need to learn. I'm going to impress the importance of your death in Thrace on everyone here in just a moment. But first we owe you more of an explanation, and more in the way of assurance, than you've had yet. What do you know of our politics?"

"That your people are themselves your king," the Mede said. "That you're their war leader, their highest-ranking strategist, called the pole-march. Beyond those, nothing."

"And you, Hegesistratus?"

"A foreigner's knowledge, and out of date at that. I am eager to learn."

"Then I'll explain to both of you, as quickly and simply as I can. If I show any prejudice for my own party or my friends, my colleagues here will correct me, you may be sure. I ask you to notice—to begin with—that I'm outnumbered."

Xanthippos shook his head and cleared his throat. "Hardly. Hypereides is your man, and a speaker of considerable eloquence, as I've several times been forced to admit."

Themistocles grinned; it made me like him. "There you see it— that's how we do it here. Among you Medes, I'm told, there are many men so honorable that everyone trusts them. We're not like that at all— we never trust one another. So what we do instead is make sure that each side's represented, so that every rascal's got two worse looking over his shoulder. Hegesistratus knows all this, of course. We Hellenes are all the same.

"The Rope Makers—we'll be talking about them soon—would tell you they have two kings so each can keep the other honest. We have two political groups instead—the shieldmen's party and the naval mob. I'm head of the naval mob. Xanthippos and Cimon are leaders of the shieldmen's party. That means that when we say we're behind you, you've got the pledges of both sides."

The Mede nodded.

"We have our differences," Themistocles continued, "serious and profound differences. You said earlier that our people rule themselves. It's actually the case only when my own party's in power."

Cimon shot him a glance both censorious and humorous.

"I represent the working poor, who make up the majority in our city just as in every other. My people want jobs as seamen, stevedores, and dockyard workers. They make our pottery and so on, and they know that for them to eat, Thought must trade. That means we get the shipowners—like Hypereides here—and most of the merchants and manufacturers, too."

Cimon glanced at Xanthippos and said, "Allow me to speak for our side, Themistocles. I'll begin by warning Zihrun and the rest that not everything you've said is true. And, Zihrun, you're not to suppose that because we're shieldmen, we think that Thought could live without ships, although Themistocles and his friends sometimes talk as if it could live without soldiers. Nor does Themistocles, as he tried to imply, represent all poor men who work. Wholly untrue! No men work harder than those who must plow and sow, tend and guard the herds and flocks, harvest and thresh the grain, prune and manure the vines, and trample the grapes. If you were to go into our Assembly, Zihrun, you would find that those vital workers, without whom we would all starve, support our party to a man. And should Themistocles challenge that, I will show you two score of them here and let you speak with them yourself.

"Although we are proud to champion the interests of these hardworking citizens, and their wives and children, they're by no means our only supporters. You yourself, Zihrun, and you, noble Hegesistratus, are yourselves far from their lowly, though absolutely necessary and valuable, class; nor would anyone count either of you among the naval mob's surly loiterers. You're men of breeding and learning, and it is we and not Themistocles, who is a man of mean birth and small education (though I scruple to say it), who represent the best families in Thought."

Themistocles fidgeted upon the stone bench in a way that showed him eager to speak, and Cimon rose as if to make sure he retained the floor.

"Nor are those all. The virtue of a city does not reside in its best families; however excellent their stock, they are too few. Nor does it lie in the poor, who cannot fight unless some other feeds them. No, it is in the craftsmen, the skilled artisans, the worthy merchants, and the independent freeholders that true
arete
is found.
They
are the defenders of the city, and even Themistocles cannot deny that they are ours."

Themistocles applauded derisively.

"You will say now that it was not defended when the Great King came, and you will be right. Our sheep and our goats and our cattle were driven off, our horses stolen, our poultry and swine devoured, our crops destroyed, the tombs of our ancestors and the temples of our gods desecrated, and our city burned to the ground. All that is perfectly true. All that took place because the resources of our city were unwisely diverted from its army to the ships. And none of it can be permitted to take place again, or we shall be ruined utterly. The land
must
be defended! If the Long Coast were an island, you would hear me speaking in support of Themistocles. It is not."

Themistocles rolled his eyes. "Are you through at last, young man?"

"Why, no." Cimon sat down again. "My career has scarcely begun, and I intend to be polemarch myself before I'm through. But I've said what I had to say for the present, if that's what you mean."

"Good." Themistocles leaned toward us with the look of a man never more in earnest. "Then let me say that you spoke the truth when you said I was of humble birth—I am. My grandfather was a silver miner, and my father also worked in the mines for a time. As for learning, isn't it a matter of what a man learns? What do you Medes learn, Zihrun? You're an educated Mede, as my young friend pointed out. What does a Mede's education consist of?"

"One learns how to honor the gods," the man we had called Oeobazus told him, "most of all, how to honor Ahura Mazda, who is the god of gods; and to ride, to shoot with the bow, and to tell the truth."

Themistocles nodded as though what he had heard had merely confirmed what he had already known. "A very good education, I would say. Cimon here can play the lyre quite well, and he's a fine singer. You'll hear him tonight, I feel sure. As for me, I know how to make a city great."

Hegesistratus began, "You spoke of the Rope Makers—"

Themistocles silenced him with an upraised hand. "And I shall have much more to say about them soon. But before I do, I must make certain that our friend from the east understands one thing. It's that though we differ, we are alike in our devotion to Thought. As you may know, we have the custom of ostracizing politicians—Xanthippos, Cimon, and I are all politicians, you understand—who are considered too divisive. We send them away, without dishonor, for a specified number of years. But when the Great King's army came, I called all those who'd been ostracized home and gave them commands. They served the city well, as I knew they would.

"Xanthippos, Cimon, are you with me in everything we're doing today? Do you agree that all of us shall work for the good of Thought?"

Both nodded, and Cimon added, "We do."

"Do you pledge yourselves to hold in strictest confidence everything we say here today, provided I share whatever I can learn with you? To do everything in your power for Zihrun and the rest? And particularly for—" Themistocles glanced toward Hypereides.

"Latro," Hypereides supplied.

"For Latro?"

Both nodded again. Xanthippos said, "You have our hands on it, all of you."

"And mine." Themistocles paused; the warm breath of spring sighed in the newly green boughs, and though birds trilled there, it was so quiet I could hear the men taking down the wall beside the road talking at their work.