‘She certainly has a way with opposition.’ Anaxagoras shrugged. ‘You are probably the wrong one for me to discuss this with. But no woman has ever pursued me like this before. I find it. . disconcerting. I’m used to the kind of pursuit that Charmides disdains — all smiles and blushes and smouldering looks. Your sister is — not like that.’
Satyrus laughed aloud.
‘Nor am I ready to cede Miriam, although-’ Anaxagoras showed actual confusion, and his hands fell away from the strings.
‘As far as I’m concerned, to hesitate is to concede,’ Satyrus said. ‘I want to marry her. Make her queen.’
Anaxagoras smiled — a broad smile. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Now we really are competitors. I’ve already offered.’
Satyrus was surprised. ‘Offered? To Abraham?’
‘Dowry stipulations, land, assets and everything.’ He shrugged. ‘I have not been answered. Nor does my. . curiosity about your sister end my suit. I think that the Lady of the Assagetae is a bit beyond me, to be honest.’
That’s what you think, Satyrus thought.
Leosthenes poured a libation to Poseidon and made a small sacrifice to Apollo — a ram, and a ram that no temple would ever have accepted in better times. But the animal died well, with its head up, and Leosthenes proclaimed its liver clear of inflammation or disease — in itself a good omen.
Panther had been the Rhodian high priest of Apollo, but he was dead. Nicanor had been the second priest, and Menedemos was the third. It had taken them an hour to decide to allow Leosthenes to perform the rituals on behalf of the city, and they had confirmed his citizenship and taken him to the ruined altar of Poseidon for some secret ceremony that left his forehead decorated with ashes.
There was one altar among the olive trees — initially an altar to Apollo, and now to every god, because the temples were either destroyed or dismantled, and the open-air altar was the lone sacred space left to the survivors. Satyrus stood in front of the altar once the sacrifice was made.
All of the officers were gathered under the olive trees. Melitta stood with Miriam and Aspasia, the only women present. They stood well clear of the altar: despite his plethora of daughters and female servants and wives, the sea god was not one for feminine participation in mystery. Apollodorus stood at Satyrus’ right hand, next to the altar, and Charmides, injured in the ankle by yesterday’s fighting, sat on a stool. Damophilus, Socrates and Memnon stood together in front of the altar on Satyrus’ left. Jubal stood farther back, with Philaeus, formerly Satyrus’ oar master and now, with Apollodorus, an officer in the phalanx.
The Neodamodeis were represented by Korus and by Kleitos, the red-haired barbarian who was Abraham’s helmsman: a freed slave himself, he was now commander of their taxeis.
Satyrus glanced at Jacob, who had brought with him a stack of wax tablets and a stylus. ‘Get all this down, eh?’ he asked.
Jacob nodded.
‘First, the numbers. Casualties from yesterday?’ Satyrus waited, apparently impassive.
Apollodorus indicated Anaxagoras, already acting as adjutant for the oarsmen.
Anaxagoras nodded. ‘For the oarsmen — four hundred and sixty-two fit for duty, and two hundred and twelve marines, for a total of six hundred and seventy-four. Thirty-six wounded from yesterday, eleven dead or expected to die. All front-rank men.’
‘Helios, Draco and Neiron,’ Satyrus said.
Damophilus nodded. ‘Three of the best. We will, of course, bury them as full citizens.’
Leosthenes sang the hymn to Ares.
Satyrus waited for him to finish, and turned to Kleitos.
‘Neodamodeis,’ Kleitos said. ‘Eight hundred and thirty fit for duty. More with fever than I can count — let’s say another six hundred. Only lost four dead yesterday and another nine wounded. All expected to recover. ’Less they get fever, of course.’
Men looked aside at the fever numbers. Freed slaves were now the bulk of the citizen manpower — and they were sick.
Melitta stepped forward into the circle of men, as was her right. ‘I speak here for the town mercenaries,’ she said. ‘Idomeneus died on the wall. He served me five years, and I will put up a statue to him in Tanais, if we live.’ She bowed her head. ‘Cretan archers, two hundred and six fit for duty. Over ninety sick with fever. Twenty-one dead, no wounded, from yesterday. They tried to get his corpse back. And succeeded.’
Satyrus nodded.
‘Idomeneus of Crete will receive full citizen honours,’ Damophilus said.
Melitta nodded. ‘Of other mercenaries, the city garrison can, this morning, muster three hundred and fourteen hoplites. Another hundred, at least, have the fever. Fifteen or more are already dead.’
Memnon nodded and stepped forward. ‘City hoplites — around six hundred. We lost seven dead and sixty wounded yesterday, but men have been falling like flies since sunrise, with fever. Maybe two hundred already sick.’ He looked around. ‘Abraham is sick. And my daughter, Nike.’
‘So is your number with sick, or without?’ Satyrus asked. He felt callous.
‘Without.’ Memnon nodded.
‘Ephebes,’ Satyrus said.
Socrates spoke up. ‘One hundred and sixteen fit for service,’ he said.
‘Apollo’s light!’ Memnon said. ‘What happened?’
‘Fever,’ Socrates said. ‘We lost but two men yesterday, and four wounded. All four of whom have the fever now.’
Satyrus looked around. ‘The oarsmen and my marines seem immune from this fever.’
Aspasia stepped into the circle of officers. ‘Miriam and I have discussed that. But your oarsmen camp right next to the Neodamodeis, who have the highest disease rate.’
Apollodorus asked, ‘Is it the same fever we had after Aegypt?’
Aspasia shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It seems to show an excess of bile — like your fever — but none of the men seems to turn yellow. And both of you did. As did many of the oarsmen.’
Satyrus nodded. ‘I remember.’
‘But the bile is much the same, and the sluggishness of the blood,’ Aspasia said. ‘I have cast horoscopes and I get no one answer. It is not the wrath of Apollo — that much I would feel bold to say.’
Apollodorus clearly questioned all this scientific talk. ‘We should fill in the latrines,’ he said, ‘and make people use new ones in the ruins, down by the port. Dug deep. I’ve seen this fighting in Syria — same fever, same conditions.’
Aspasia surprised them all by nodding. ‘I agree. I support the empirical approach to medicine. Hippocrates says many of the same things — simple observation has to augment our science. Let’s face it — the people closest to the latrines have the worst fever except the oarsmen.’
Satyrus rubbed his chin. ‘Fill the latrines? So people will have to walk to the port side to shit? That’s not going to make me popular.’
Apollodorus nodded. ‘And it won’t — pardon my crude speech — be worth a shit unless you enforce it so that the wide-arse who tries to use the agora gets caught and punished.’
Satyrus looked around. ‘Friends — this is the sort of thing that can destroy morale.’
Apollodorus was insistent. ‘It works.’
Jubal leaned in. ‘It do. Listen to he. Any sailor know it, too.’
Memnon shrugged. ‘I don’t, and I’ve been at sea all my life.’
Satyrus looked at Aspasia. ‘I trust Apollodorus with my life, but you are the priestess of Asclepius and the best doctor in Rhodes.’
Damophilus nodded. ‘And people will see that we are doing something about the fever.’
Satyrus glared at him. ‘Until it fails, and then comes the backlash. People are not fools, gentlemen. It’s a poor politician who makes bad laws merely to appear to take action.’
Memnon smiled. ‘You don’t know very many politicians,’ he said.
That got a laugh.