Gary Corby - The Ionia Sanction

“No less than you were prepared to do to me,” I growled.

“Practically the same,” he agreed amiably. “Gentlemen, it is obvious whatever activities I may have engaged in are over forever. You want me for only two things: revenge and information. Let us make this easy for each other. If you put away your revenge, I will present you with the information you want, on the understanding I will be permitted to depart Ephesus on the first ship out.”

“You’re willing to sell out your employer?” I asked.

“I won’t be hanging around for the retribution. I wonder what the weather’s like in Carthage?” he mused. “That should be far away enough … I hope.”

Barzanes said, without consulting, “It is unacceptable. You killed the merchant on the lands of the Great King, you must be punished for it.”

“I didn’t kill Brion.”

“You lie.”

“Wait, Barzanes,” I said. “I have more reason to hate him than most, but this might be our best chance to uncover the whole truth.”

“No.” Barzanes refused to make a deal.

I objected, “But he could identify the criminal.”

“He is the criminal. That there may be another does not exonerate him. Do you Hellenes let half your criminals go free because they informed on the other half? No, of course not; no honorable man could agree to this. Any city which did such a thing would collapse in lawlessness.”

“All right, what you say is true.”

“I ride to the city for men to surround the sanctuary. Cleophantus, you and the Athenian keep watch.” Barzanes rode off down the road.

Araxes said, “I’m thirsty, I haven’t had a drink since the morning.”

Cleophantus held up his water skin, beyond the white stone. “Come on over. I have plenty.”

Araxes smiled but said nothing. He walked around the temple and I followed, wanting to keep him in sight. Cleophantus mounted his horse and watched us from the border.

A channel had been cut to divert water from the stream that split around the temple. It emptied through a fountain. Araxes used a ladle to drink his fill, then turned in to enter the temple.

He found a niche in a distant corner, which was hung about with tapestries that gave us some privacy.

“Listen, Nicolaos-”

“Call me Nico.”

Araxes smiled. “Nico, I’m probably going to die soon. I’ve seen too many men die to want to go any way but fast. I’ll fall on a knife before I let them put me on the pole.”

I hesitated, then, “What if I can give you a way to not die?”

“I’d take it of course. What do I have to do?”

“Tell me the whole, complete truth, and if I believe you, I’ll let you go. You’ll still have Cleophantus to avoid, but that’s your problem.”

“What happened to men of honor not treating with thieves?”

“That’s Barzanes. I’m much more interested in results. I admit I wanted you very badly at the start, but now I realize you’re like me, Araxes, just some poor fool acting for someone else. The man I want is the one behind it all. But you’ll have to be quick, because Barzanes will be back any moment.”

“How will you explain my escape?”

“You surprised me, knocked me out, and tied me up.”

“I accept.”

“It started with the river, didn’t it? The Maeander River, and the dead farmer.”

Araxes nodded. “I must say you did well to work that out. The farmer found some coins and an old jar. He took it to Ephesus to sell. People do, around here, because they can get more than in Magnesia. Brion saw the amphora-he understood old pots and furniture-and recognized it as valuable. When he saw the picture on the coins he got excited.

“Brion quizzed the farmer closely. The man was guarded about where he’d found the stuff-it was obvious he planned to dig some more himself-but anyone could guess the man had found the stuff on his own land. Brion had to do some research to work out what he had, he found what he needed in the book they keep here in the temple.”

“The part in the Book of Heraclitus about not being able to step into the same river twice, Brion used it to prove he’d found the lost treasure of Polycrates. What everyone takes to be profound philosophy is actually the raving of a madman who knew where the treasure lay buried.”

“So Brion told me. I didn’t pay any attention myself.”

“The philosophers are going to be upset when I tell them,” I said, looking forward to deflating Diotima and Anaxagoras.

He chuckled. “They won’t believe you.”

He was probably right.

Araxes continued, “Brion needed someone to deal with the messier aspects; fortunately he knew someone who introduced him to me.”

“So you dealt with the farmer.”

“It was a quick drowning, perfectly natural for the area. No one questioned it. Afterward, the widow was only too happy to be paid decent money for the property. We packed her off to her brother’s house in Sardis.”

“No unfortunate accident for her?”

“No need.”

“Then you began digging up the stuff and exporting it to Athens. Brion’s trade connections would have been perfect for that. It had to be sent away because any attempt to sell Polycrates’ treasure locally would be spotted at once by people who knew the story.”

“Brion handled that end of it. He hid the coins and gold and silver items in the old amphorae, which he plugged. We split the profits three ways.”

“What went wrong?”

“I don’t know. Brion did something to destroy the operation. The next thing I knew, I had Themistocles on my back. I told you even the toughest hound slinks around a lion, but when the lion has his paw on your neck, you obey. Themistocles ordered me to chase down the letter-well, you know that.”

“You said Thorion died cursing you. You spoke to him?”

“Thorion laughed in my face, even as I had him in a death grip. He said his death didn’t matter, because he’d got word out of the coming invasion. It was news to me; Themistocles had told me nothing.”

If Thorion thought the note he’d written to Pericles was sufficient then he had an odd idea of what constituted a warning. But then, the man was about to die, and if his admission of treason was enough to ease his passing then who was I to argue. I’d faced death myself that day and knew what it did to a man’s mind. The knowledge that he’d confessed his crime might have been his only comfort.

I said, “Thorion spoke of being a traitor.”

“Then it must have been his guilty conscience. I’m told some men have them. Thorion’s only crime was common larceny on a grand scale, fencing stolen antiquities.”

Araxes sat with his back against the wall of the Artemision, the sweat running off him, and caked in the grime of his flight on horseback. “You know, Nicolaos, if Thorion hadn’t got that note off, you would have been none the wiser, you would never have come here, and I would not be sitting in this accursed temple awaiting my end.”

Perhaps Thorion had done a better job for Athens than I gave him credit for. I said, “Thorion saved Athens.”

“That remains to be seen. He certainly gave your people a chance.” Araxes wiped the sweat off his brow. “Themistocles allowed me to finish clearing the site as a reward and to make sure I kept my mouth shut. I told the truth, by the way, when I said you won’t find any more. We cleared it out with the last load.”

“Why did you steal Asia?”

“I didn’t. Themistocles gave her away.”

“What?”

“I told you she was in the greatest danger if you returned her, didn’t I? Themistocles told me to make it look like child theft, and his orders were to ‘dispose’ of her. I chose to interpret that loosely. When I saw her, I couldn’t bring myself to harm the child.” He laughed without humor. “The one time I try to do a good deed, and it destroys me. There’s a moral to be had there. I can tell you, my client was not best pleased when the girl reappeared in your company.”