Soldier of Arete (33 page)

Aglaus stopped to speak with me, and I asked how old he is. He is in his thirty-second year, though he looks so much older—I think because his hair has begun to gray and he has lost some teeth. His father was called Aglaus also. He asked whether the letters I use were pictures. I explained that they are,
A
being the head of an ox and so on; but that I did not intend an ox now when I set down A. I showed him how to write his name in my own tongue, scratching the letters in the dirt.

He thought that the goat man was a certain god who lives in the mountains of Bearland. His name is All. I asked how he came to bear this strange name, and Aglaus said that he is the fourth son of Time and Earth, though his brothers do not recognize his claim to the fourth world, which is this one. The other three are the sky, the sea, and the Lands of the Dead, which lie under the earth. It is he who brings terror at noon to those who wake him from his slumber. I asked whether Aglaus had ever seen him. He affirmed that he had. Io, who had come to listen to us, says that this god aided the men of Thought against the barbarians at Fennel Field.

When Aglaus had gone, I asked Io about the letter that she had put into Lykaon's bosom. At first she did not want to tell me, but when I promised I would not tell anyone else, she told me it was to her parents. She does not know whether they are dead, but believes they may be. She said she told them she was well and happy and has a fine man, but that she misses them both very much. I wanted to ask her who this man is, but she was crying, so I comforted her instead.

Now only what I said to Ortygenes remains to be written.

I found him staring into the embers. There were many men around him, all asleep. He had a skin of wine and offered some to me, but I refused it. He asked whether I had ever seen his son alive. I could not remember, and shook my head.

"He wasn't as big as you," he said. "We hardly ever are. But the old blood ran true in him."

I said that everyone had told me what a fine young man he had been.

"Are you a Bundini?" Ortygenes asked. "Some tribe of the Getae?" I could say only that I did not know; in any case, I do not think he heard my reply.

"Our line fought on the windy plain of Ilion," he told me, "but in his entire life my poor boy never saw anything beyond these mountains.

" 'Some marks of honor on my son bestow,

And pay in glory what in life you owe.

Fame is at least by heavenly promise due

To life so short, and now dishonor'd, too.

Till the proud king and all the Achaean race

Shall heap with honors him they now disgrace.'

"Here's a secret—you'll forget it anyhow, what's-his-name says. Know who the Achaeans are?"

I admitted I did not.

"We are," Ortygenes said, "and I'm a king in hiding. You think we'll ever win our country back? We won't. Nations are like men— growing old, never young. My son had the misfortune to be a young man of an old nation. So did I, once. Yours is young still, whatever it is. Give thanks."

This morning we entered the Silent Country. Themistocles gave Aglaus money and dismissed him; but when we halted for the first meal, we discovered that he had been following us, which made the Rope Maker very angry. Themistocles permitted Aglaus to share our food, but told him to return to his own land after he had eaten, that we no longer required a guide and would not pay him anything more. Aglaus was very humble, saying he would serve us without pay, like a slave, and do whatever work Tillon and Diallos thought too hard. Themistocles shook his head and turned away.

Then Bittusilma and Io spoke to the black man and me. The black man has money, it seems, and so do I. (Io is keeping mine for me; it is on the cart.) They proposed that we should employ Aglaus as our servant, each giving him a spit on alternate days. The black man was doubtful, but I said that if he did not wish to do it, I would hire Aglaus myself to wait upon Io, Polos, and me; then the black man agreed to the arrangement Bittusilma and Io had originally suggested. Aglaus rejoiced when we told him, and I think even Themistocles and Simon-ides were happy, though they tried to appear otherwise. Tillon and Diallos welcome him now as a comrade.

I have said nothing, only nodding when Io explained the new arrangement to him; yet I welcome him, too, as something more. When he arrived, as we sat eating, I recalled a silver chariot. I remember standing in it and holding the reins, though no horses were harnessed to it. Perhaps it is only an imagined object in my memory palace, but I do not think so; it seems to me that it stands among rocks, not walls. If having Aglaus near helps me remember, I would pay him much more than a spit.

Tonight I read about Lykaon's cremation, and what Ortygenes said to me. When I had finished, I asked Pasicrates whether the people of Bear-land were called Achaeans. He said that they were not, the Achaeans having been destroyed by the Dorians, his own tribe, who had slaughtered all their men and seized their women. Aglaus confirmed it—but looked (or so it appeared to me) rather too serious.

THIRTY-FIVE

Cyklos of Rope

THE JUDGE TO WHOM CIMON gave me a letter has welcomed me, with Io and Polos, into his home. I had forgotten the letter (as I have forgotten the man called Cimon) but Io says I showed it to her before I rolled it into my old scroll, and she told me what it was and gave it to me when I needed it. Cyklos is of middle height; though his hair is as gray as iron, no young man could stand more straight. I have not seen him smile.

I should set down here that the wounded Rope Maker who was with us ran ahead of us when we neared Rope, though it clearly gave him a great deal of pain to run. Nothing of that showed in his expression, and the strides he took with his right leg were as long as those with the left; but when he looked back to wave good-bye to us, his face was white. After seeing it, I watched him closely as he ran, and twice he nearly fell. Themistocles and Simonides had tried to dissuade him, but he said that it was his duty to announce us, and as long as he could do his duty he would do it. I offered to send Polos, who runs very swiftly, in his place; but he would not hear of that.

He must have reached Rope well ahead of us, for we received a magnificent welcome. All five of the judges had marched out of the city to meet us, accompanied by at least two hundred Rope Makers under arms. Their armor gleamed like gold in the bright sunshine. With them was the Women's Chorus, which I am told is very famous, playing and singing, and with the Women's Chorus, a score of lovely young girls who danced to their music.

The greatest welcome was for Themistocles, who was embraced by all the judges; but when each had greeted him and praised his shrewd leadership during the war (in which Io says the black man and I took part), they inquired about me and greeted me as well. I said that so far as I knew I had done nothing to deserve their goodwill, but that I would attempt to deserve it in the future, at which they appeared pleased. That was when Io passed me the letter, which she had taken from the scroll in my chest. Cyklos had already introduced himself, and I gave it to him.

In Rope we were first brought to the palace of the Agids. We did not see Prince Pausanias, who is said to be the greatest man here, but Simonides says that we will surely see him at the ceremony tomorrow. We were greeted instead by the white-haired Queen Gorgo and her son, King Pleistarchos, a boy about Polos's age. Gorgo told me that she recalled Io and me from our earlier visit to her city, and asked Io what had befallen the beauty who had accompanied us. Io said she had been killed at the siege of Sestos. Gorgo nodded, and said that she had foreseen that death, sudden and violent, awaited her. I must remember to ask Io more about this woman; I place this wish among the shattered fragments of the dancer.

I should write here, too, that the Agid palace is not a great structure like the memory palace in which I attempt to store all the things I may wish to recall, but only a commodious house of stone. This house of Cyklos's is not even stone, however—merely mud brick, and of moderate size.

Now I must write everything I have been told concerning the solemn ceremonies that are to take place tomorrow. Before I go to sleep, I will put this scroll in a prominent place so that I will be certain to read it in the morning; thus, I hope, I will be able to act well tomorrow, even though I must necessarily be separated from Io.

First, that they will begin at the rising of the full moon—that is very important here. Simonides and I spoke at length with Cyklos this afternoon; he told us that there had been great concern here lest we come late, in which case many features of the ceremony would have had to be eliminated. I lay between the paws of the panther:
Everyone must be in place before twilight brings the rising of the moon.

Second, that about two thousand others will be honored with me, though I am to be their head and chief. In order to ensure that there are no mistakes that might offend the Triple Goddess, each of us is to be accompanied by a sponsor, a young Rope Maker who has already rehearsed the ceremony several times. Mine will be Hippoxleas, one of the youths attending Cyklos; he is as tall as I am, and I would call him handsome (though perhaps somewhat overheavy at the jaw), but Io does not like him. She said that he was of the same mold as Pasicrates, the one-handed Rope Maker who ran ahead to announce us. By this I thought she meant that the two were closely related, so I asked Hippoxleas whether they were brothers. He smiled and told me that they are only distant cousins, but good friends.

"You'll have the most difficult job of all," I warned him, "if I'm to lead the entire group. I forget, as Simonides told you."

He laid his hand on my shoulder in a friendly fashion and grinned. "Not at all, Latro. Think they'd give it to a simpleminded fellow like me if it were going to be too hard? No, it's the rest who drew the tough jobs." And indeed, of all the young men about Cyklos, only Hippoxleas seems to be looking forward to the great events of tomorrow night. I lay his name,
Hippoxleas,
just to the left of the wide door, at the foot of the doorpost.

Third, that our preparations will begin long before sunset. Following the first meal, all of us are to assemble on the bank of the Eurotas, north of the temple. There we and our sponsors will be able to practice by daylight all the things we will have to do in darkness. Io wants to come; Hippoxleas says there is no reason she should not, though she will have to stand among the spectators. That
we must go after the first meal,
I write upon the floor before the golden sun the blue beetle rolls.

Fourth and last, the order of events, because I do not know whether I will have an opportunity to write after the practice. Following songs by the Men's Chorus, there is to be a sacrifice on behalf of the entire Silent Country. It is assumed that the omens will be favorable, because the wishes of the goddess have been consulted upon several occasions during the past few days, and each time she has urged that the ceremony proceed.

After this sacrifice, there will be speeches honoring both Themistocles and those who are to receive residency; I do not know exactly how many, or who will give them. Then Themistocles himself will speak, honoring the Rope Makers, their auxiliaries, and their allies for the great part they played in the war.

Next he will be crowned with trefoil by the two kings. (It seems very odd to me that Rope should have two kings, but Aglaus and Io both confirm it. Polos knows no more of this place than I.) We must cheer very loudly as the wreath is placed upon his head. He will then be presented with gifts; as I understand it, each of the five judges, the kings, Queen Gorgo, and the prince regent will all make him rare and valuable presents, after which Themistocles himself will offer an unblemished white bull to the King of Gods. (This bull is one of the gifts he is to receive.)

Thus far I, at the head of those who will be freed and made residents of Rope, will have been merely an onlooker; but now we are to throw aside our clothing and bathe in the Eurotas. Each sponsor will carry perfumed oil with which to anoint us, as well as a towel and a new white garment. When all of us are freshly attired, we are to form a column, with Hippoxleas and myself in the lead. I am to stand at his right.

We will file past the temple of Orthia, where we will be given torches, and our sponsors offerings, by the priestesses. (The Women's Chorus will perform while these are distributed.) Then we will march to each of the temples of Rope in turn. The dancers are to go first and the Women's Chorus after them; we need only follow. We are to sing the refrains of all the songs—I am told that these refrains are short and easy, and that we will be drilled in them during the practice tomorrow. At each temple, a hundred men will make offerings. (These have already been told off; each group of one hundred will march as a unit.)

When we return to the temple of Orthia, I am to make my own offering together with all the men who have not yet made theirs. The prince regent, the five judges, and both the kings will pass among us, accompanied by priestesses. As each declares each man free, the priestess with him will place a crown of wildflowers upon that man's head. /
will be the first man freed by the prince regent,
who will be assisted by Queen Gorgo. /
must thank each briefly, humbly, loudly, and gratefully.
As soon as I have finished speaking, I am to throw my torch into the river.

By the time the last slave has been freed, the meat of the sacrifices should be done. There will be general feasting, and—as Simonides warns me—a great deal of wine.

In my avenue of statues there stands one of the Hydra; it has seven heads and four feet. I cut an event into each:
the first sacrifices, the speeches, Themistocles's own speech, the presentation of gifts to him, his sacrifice, our cleansing, the distribution of torches and offerings, our march, my offering, the ceremony of manumission, and the drowning of the torches.

Io asked whether I had seen the black man. We found him at a gymnasium near here, watching Hippoxleas teach Polos the Rope Makers' sword drill. Io showed us a small room without windows, on the other side of the court from the one in which Io, Polos, and I sleep. It holds only a pair of stocks, of oak reinforced with bronze and iron; there are bloodstains on the floor. Io and the black man found a place in the wall where it has been repaired. They say that a man we know was imprisoned here and escaped by breaking through this wall. Both warned me not to speak of it. We left that room without being seen by anyone, though one of those who attend Cyclos saw us as we crossed the court.