Gary Corby - The Marathon Conspiracy

“You can’t be serious,” I blurted. “You’re a sixty-five-year-old man.”

“So am I,” Zeke returned. “And I too am ready for combat.” From wherever he’d hidden them all these years, Zeke had retrieved the dress of his former life, an officer of the Persian Immortals. He wore heavy scale armor of a type I’d only ever seen in Ionia, where the Persians ruled: hundreds of small metal plates attached to a leather jerkin. In his right hand, he wielded the sword I’d retrieved from the Sacred Spring. It had lost the leather of its handle, but that wouldn’t stop a veteran. In his left he held a wicker shield.

Callias had nothing but his dagger. He drew this and stood beside them in the only order that made sense for the armaments they carried: Zeke on the left with his smaller shield, Aeschylus in the middle where his large hoplon gave them the best protection, and Callias in the place of honor on the right, where the dagger in his right hand was free to strike. Aeschylus called the time.

“March!”

They marched.

It was ludicrous.

They were going to be slaughtered. The greatest playwright the world had ever known was about to die, and when it happened, Pericles was going to blame me.

Then I reflected that these were heroes of Marathon, even if Zeke had been on the other side. These three ancient men would fight until they’d been torn to shreds, and even then, with their last breath they’d struggle to win.

The veterans didn’t break step. They met the enemy on the green verge of the sanctuary’s lawn. They clashed their shields against the invaders, then with great shouts to unnerve their opponents they sought to drive their swords through the enemy shield wall. The weapons bounced. The brigands tried the same, but nor could they find a gap. After that both sides settled to the deadly business of armored combat.

Glaucon stood behind the line of raiders and urged them on. He made no attempt to help his men. A look at the attackers told me they were mercenaries. Hellas was full of them, all looking for work. These ones were armed with shield and spear and probably short sword for emergencies. The shield barrier made it hard for our men to touch them.

I looked for some way I could come at Glaucon.

“Callias is dead!” one of the women screamed.

I whirled around.

Callias was thoroughly unconscious. Blood flowed from his head. Aeschylus and Zeke fought on. I thought about carrying Callias to cover, then realized there was no point. If we lost here, no one was safe.

Gaïs took Ophelia by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. She said, “Ophelia, if those men break in here, even if we’re still alive, especially if they kill the men but capture us priestesses, you’re to lead all the girls to the farm where you hid. Can you find it again?”

“Yes, Gaïs,” Ophelia said.

Gaïs kissed Ophelia on the lips. “Good girl.”

When the brigands had decided to attack a girls’ school, they probably hadn’t expected to face heavy infantry. Their surprise told in the caution of their attack. I knew it was only two old men, but the raiders didn’t: the armor covered the faces and chests of Aeschylus and Zeke, and anything else that might give away their age. Certainly neither of them moved like old men. I could see the slowness of their counter-strokes, but only because I was looking for it.

But their skill would eventually count for little when it was two against so many. They gave ground; it was only a matter of moments before they were flanked. Aeschylus and Zeke turned to fight back to back, each moving in one fluid motion. My old drill instructor would have smiled to see it.

An arrow flew over my head. It came from behind. Diotima had found her perch, and now she was trying for targets. The first shot missed, but her second elicited a painful yell from someone in that melee.

I had to do something to help, but with only my dagger and no armor to protect me, I knew that like Callias I wouldn’t stand for long. I needed a better weapon.

Then I realized where I could get one.

I turned and ran.

Rollo had been tied to a tree out back of the sanctuary. Zeke had replaced the light chain Ophelia had used with a heavy one that even the enormous bear couldn’t break. Then he’d secured the chain with a wooden lock too heavy for a child to lift.

I grabbed the lock with both hands and shoved upward. The lock came off. I unwrapped the chain from the tree trunk.

“Come on, Rollo,” I said. I tugged on the bear’s chain, but he didn’t move. I tugged harder. The bear didn’t budge. I pulled with all my might. Rollo looked at me with contempt.

“What do you want?”

It was Ophelia. The girls had gathered out back, ready to run, and they’d watched me free the bear.

“I’m taking Rollo into that fight,” I said. “We’ll lose without him.”

“He won’t go with you,” Ophelia said. “But he will with me.” She took hold of the chain and said gently, “Come along, Rollo.”

The bear lumbered after her.

I couldn’t take a child into a battle. But I couldn’t not take the bear. I drew my breath, drew my dagger, and took the lead.

“Where are we going?” Ophelia asked.

“Aeschylus and Zeke are surrounded,” I told her. “We’re going down the west side of the sanctuary, past the Sacred Spring, and through the gap between the temple and the stoa. The buildings will hide us from view until we’re right on top of them. We’ll hit them from behind before they see us.”

I didn’t know if Rollo would fight, but I did know that having a giant bear at your back was a good reason to run away.

The raiders had left two men at the bridge. They saw us first. One yelled, the other turned, and both leveled their spears and came at us.

The first man thrust his spear at me with both hands; he put his weight behind it and sent the sharp metal tip straight at my stomach. He grinned as he tried to kill me; if he connected I’d soon be seeing my bowels.

His technique was correct but slow. I swiveled my hips a heartbeat before the spearhead could skewer me, and at the same time I used my free left hand to bat away the shaft, hitting it just behind the spearhead with my open palm.

The spear slid right past me. The look of surprise on the spearman’s face made me laugh.

It was a trick Pythax had taught me. Now I was turned side-on to my enemy for minimum profile, and my knife hand was at the forefront.

The spearman had expected resistance when the spear sank into my body. He wasn’t braced to stop. He practically ran onto my upraised blade. It took him in the throat.

I breathed a thanks to Pythax. A year ago, that attack would have killed me.

The second man, meanwhile, had made the mistake of running at Ophelia. The bear didn’t even break stride. Rollo clubbed Ophelia’s attacker with one of his massive paws. The man flew backward to land on his behind, and blood splattered where the bear’s claws had scarred him. The raider dropped his spear to scramble backward with both hands, then, when Rollo kept coming at him, the raider picked himself up and ran across the bridge, down the road, and into the darkness.

“Quick,” I said to Ophelia. I was astonished she hadn’t shown fear, but with that bear beside her the girl was fearless. We passed between the Temple of Artemis and the stoa to see Aeschylus and Zeke hard pressed. Diotima was a dark figure on the roof behind them. She stood to shoot, which exposed her. As I watched, a man threw a spear her way, but Diotima didn’t flinch. She shot back. The raider was ready; he blocked her shot with his upraised shield. But that didn’t save him. As the arrow hit his shield a figure shot out of the darkness and dragged a short blade down his unarmored arm.