Christian Cameron: Force of Kings

‘There was a fine man,’ Ptolemy said.

‘The best,’ Leon agreed.

‘I think of it often. When I was taken — after the skirmish — I was sure I was for it. The locals always tortured prisoners to death — we’d find them staked out on the roads. I thought that I was a dead man — dead for nothing, in a lost campaign, in a particularly nasty way. Then Philokles picked me up, and he was a Greek, and I knew I was going to live.’ The king took a long drink of wine. ‘But if I’d been taken by your Sakje — well, it would have been pretty ugly, eh?’

Leon shrugged. ‘Hard to tell. But yes — especially young people. They like to see what they can do.’

Ptolemy swirled the wine in his golden cup. ‘I think of it often. Because — when things look bad, I think, Thank the gods, I could be old bones at Marakanda now .’

‘Very Pythagorean of you,’ Leon said.

Ptolemy shrugged. ‘I do more thinking about … about things. Old age, I guess. How’s your nephew?’

Leon’s ‘nephew’ was Satyrus of Tanais. They weren’t related in any real way, but Leon had been part of Satyrus’s father’s household, and Leon had taken Satyrus into his own household, and all the world called them uncle and nephew.

‘Thriving, since the siege. He’s up in the Euxine, seeing to his own people.’ Leon smiled. ‘I’ll change my mind to the tune of half a cup of wine.’

Instantly, a slave placed a cup in his hand.

He tasted it — good Chian wine, but nothing fancy.

‘He’s not,’ Ptolemy said. ‘Galon told me this morning. He’s headed back to Rhodes — probably there now.’

Leon, whose intelligence service was one of the finest in the world, was surprised. ‘He’s got the grain fleet? So early? Whatever for?’

Ptolemy nodded. ‘That’s just what I’m asking you. It’s not that I distrust the boy, he’s served me as if he was a subject — more loyal than half my captains. But the last time his grain fleet sailed, he landed three thousand soldiers and seized control of the Propontus for a year. Zeus — he must have made a fortune on tolls.’

Leon smiled. ‘He did. I have reason to know.’

‘So,’ Ptolemy said. ‘What’s the game this time?’

Leon stared at his wine. ‘He hasn’t told me,’ he said, and there was anger in his voice. ‘How many ships, have you heard?’ he asked mildly.

‘Forty grain ships from Tanais and Pantecapaeaum, another ten from Olbia, and fifteen more from Heraklea. The word is that he’ll take half of his grain to Rhodes and sell the other half in Athens.’ Ptolemy sat back, having delivered his thunderbolt.

‘Athens?’ Leon asked. ‘We don’t do business there now. Demetrios holds Athens.’

‘Precisely,’ Ptolemy said. ‘He’s not … contemplating a change?’

Leon sipped his wine. Ptolemy was the best dissimulator he knew — the king had played two games merely to put him at ease for this moment.

‘Poseidon,’ Leon swore, ‘I would never believe it of him.’

Ptolemy nodded. ‘Good — good. That’s what I needed to hear. Galon had a theory — I’ll tell you as one suspicious bastard to another — that when Amastris jilted him, Satyrus had to go running to the other side. She’s marrying Lysimachos — you know that.’

‘I imagine everyone in the Mediterranean knows that now,’ Leon said. ‘But he — that is, my nephew — has known that she has other interests — well, for a year. Perhaps more. Before the siege, anyway.’ He paused. ‘You know that by the terms of the truce after the siege, my nephew cannot engage in open war against Demetrios for one full year.’

‘Of course,’ said Ptolemy. ‘My brother helped negotiate it. But at the end of the year, I need him — at my side, in spirit if not in the flesh.’ The king clapped him on the shoulder. ‘With Satyrus’s fleet, the fleet of Rhodos, and my fleet, we can keep Antigonus and Demetrios at arm’s length.’ He nodded. ‘If Satyrus were to go over to Demetrios …’

Leon rose to his feet. ‘I’ll get you a firm answer, lord. But don’t accept gossip. Satyrus has never given you cause. You allow your captains to openly court Cassander and Antigonus — you allow companies of mercenaries to cross the lines when their contracts expire. By Artemis, you let your own brother flirt with Demetrios.’

‘My brother doesn’t have twenty brand-new triremes and a squadron of penteres building right here in my own port,’ the king said. ‘I’d be a lot more careful of him if he had the money and the power that young Satyrus controls now. And the name. Since the siege, your nephew has a name.’

Leon nodded.

‘I’m not voicing these suspicions anywhere but this room. Herakles, Leon! I don’t want to distrust the boy. But these are bad times. I have to raise taxes this year. Seleucus and Lysimachos want me to invade Syria. The bastards want me to take the brunt of Antigonus’s forces while they whittle down his provinces. Cassander just wants us all to die. Sometimes I wonder if I’m on the wrong side. Am I the only king who doesn’t want anything more? I want to rule Aegypt. No one could rule the whole world — not me, not Antigonus, and not Alexander.’ The king combed his beard with his fingers and a slave poured him another cup of wine.

Leon finished his wine and rose. ‘The fellahin can’t take much more taxation,’ he said. ‘Invading Syria would be a mistake. Although something might be done with the Jews. They love you — and hate Antigonus.’

Ptolemy nodded. ‘I don’t want Syria. I don’t want to raise taxes. Do you know how much the expenses of war have climbed since Alexander died?’ He looked at Leon for a long moment and then laughed. ‘Of course you do.’

Leon turned his cup over. ‘I’ll see what’s going on with Satyrus. I’m sure it is innocent.’

Ptolemy nodded. ‘I pray it is. But who takes thirty warships to do something innocent? I dread one of those lightning strokes that changes the game. Satyrus wouldn’t see himself as a third side, would he?’

Leon sighed. ‘I hope not,’ he said.

‘The doctor,’ Lucius said, drawing his blade. Two rows of columns hid them from the wedding, but the first sound of combat would break the spell, turn every head.

Sophokles of Athens, a man who studied medicine at the Lyceum, a man who accepted money to kill — quite possibly the most dangerous man in the Hellenic world. He came to a stop and leaned against a pillar, his long, festive cloak covering him — and any weapons he bore — from head to foot.

‘Stratokles,’ he said.

‘Sophokles,’ the informer nodded. ‘The blessings of Lady Hera on you and your doings this day.’

The doctor nodded. ‘And yours, my dear. Cassander has given you up — traded you like a prime slave to Lysimachos. Who has given me a good purse of gold to remove you from the game.’

Lucius had already seen the men coming up the steps.

Stratokles shrugged. ‘I won’t pretend that the whole matter doesn’t make me angry,’ he said. ‘On balance, I’ve served well.’

Sophokles nodded. He looked at Lucius. ‘Steady on, there, sir. If you threaten them, we could have trouble. Put that blade away.’ To Stratokles, he said, ‘Cassander’s decision to dispense with you threatens all of us. On the other hand, I owe you for Alexandria. You abandoned me.’

Stratokles shrugged. ‘You were in place, close to the king, and undetected. I had no way of knowing that Phiale would sell you to Satyrus and Leon. Besides, sir — this is ancient history. If you will kill me, then get it done.’

‘I don’t think that Phiale actually sold me,’ the doctor said. ‘But I wanted to hear your denial. I tried for Melitta — the girl. Satyrus of Tanais’s sister. I failed, but it was close. The very gods protect that pair.’