Gary Corby - The Ionia Sanction

“He’ll never know, whoever he is. Kill me first. Lie to him.”

“What if he comes to inspect? He might, you know, before you’re gone. It takes a few days to die.”

I thought of the impaled man by the road, how I had watched him in his agony and, on the advice of Asia, been ready to walk away. I cursed myself.

“I’ll kill myself quicker by pushing down.”

“No, you won’t. I’ve heard that one before, but once they’re on the pole they always change their minds. They fight for every moment, every agonizing extra moment.”

“I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you money if you make it quick.”

Araxes stepped back as if I’d struck him. “What do you take me for? That would be unethical!”

Another man stepped up with a large jar. He put the jar on the ground, took off the lid, and reached in with both hands. The hands emerged with two enormous handfuls of dripping pig fat. He smeared this over the point of the pole and, when the top was smothered, reached into the jar again and smeared more greasy fat down the sides.

“This isn’t the best of fits,” Araxes explained. “The Gods did not create the human rectum to be able to take a large piece of wood a handsbreadth across, so we must have grease to ease it in. I’m afraid it will attract ants, which will add to your discomfort, but it can’t be helped.”

I began to struggle seriously now. There was no hope for me, but at least I could fight to the end.

They hoisted me higher as if I were an ungainly sack. Then, with a grunt, they pushed me up so that my bottom was higher than the point of the stake. Their grip was like fighting iron bonds. They walked me over. The stake came closer with every step, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I think I sobbed, but I don’t remember. My mind insisted this wasn’t real. My heart thudded so heavily it seemed to shake the ground.

Then I realized, it was no illusion. The ground really did shake. Cavalry appeared around the hill, a troop of Persians.

The cutthroats shouted in alarm and raced for their own horses. The two carrying me let go. I fell with a bone-jarring crack and my head hit a rock. I could feel it bleed but I didn’t care. I rolled to get a view of the fight.

The two who’d held me turned to face the newcomers. A horseman saw them and broke from the pack. He leveled his spear and charged. The spear took the first man in the chest, but the second brigand swept his sword into the horse’s neck. The wounded animal reared and threw his rider, who landed right beside me. The brigand killed the prone soldier with one quick thrust.

On the outside of the mêlée I could see Cleophantus sitting his horse as if he were on a parade ground. He thrust with his spear. I saw him kill one man and then prance his mount backward out of the chaos.

The black scowling face of Barzanes appeared in the center of things before he was obscured by the rising dust. I thought there must be twelve men among the attackers, plus Barzanes and Cleophantus, and that was more than enough to save me.

Cleophantus spotted Durgo, standing his ground with bloodied sword in hand. The son of Themistocles kicked his mount forward. He leaned in with his spear to catch Durgo on the right. But Durgo knew his business; at the last moment he jumped to the unprotected left of Cleophantus.

Cleophantus leaned far down the right of his mount, the opposite side to Durgo. Durgo’s sword passed over the back of Cleophantus by a whisker.

Cleophantus wheeled on the spot, yelled a war cry, and thrust. The spear took Durgo in the throat. His eyes bulged and he vomited blood as he collapsed. I was impressed; the playboy knew what he was about when it came to riding in battle.

I lost sight of Araxes until I saw him run at Cleophantus from the rear. I screamed, “Cleophantus, behind you!” With my arms still bound I scrambled to my feet and ran at them.

The Gods were with Cleophantus. He had the sense to look behind him. He swung his spear in alarm so it connected with the blade of Araxes, which was within a moment of taking him in the back. This was enough time for me to reach them and I shoulder-charged Araxes. He dropped the sword, bounced off the hindquarters of Cleophantus’ horse, and came back at me with a well-placed kick to my groin. I went down in agony.

Cleophantus tried a thrust with his spear, aiming at Araxes’ shoulder, but Araxes-a true professional-stepped aside, grabbed the shaft, and pulled. Cleophantus toppled forward, right on top of me.

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.