Satyrus caught a glance from the Athenian which suggested that he felt he’d been rebuffed.
‘It was a handsome apology,’ Anaxagoras said.
‘He can be a prick, though,’ Satyrus said.
Anaxagoras pursed his lips. ‘If you were alone on his ship, surrounded by killers …’
Satyrus rocked his head from side to side. ‘Good point. Hadn’t seen it that way.’
After a few moments of staring, the two contestants came together — two cautious blows, one each, both easily turned on the shield rim, and they were apart.
They batted at each other for as long as it took for the ship to sail the length of a tiny islet, and then Polycrates closed.
Or rather, he attempted to close, pushing forward with his back leg and levering his hips to shield-slam his opponent.
Apollodorus met him, but his shield was angled to the impact, and his sword arm shot out, past the Athenian’s head, and then the bigger man was on the deck, the point of Apollodorus’s wooden sword at his throat.
Polycrates slapped the deck in surrender and got smoothly to his feet — a fine display of muscle for an older man. He rubbed his hip where it had hit the wood planking.
But he was on his guard in heartbeats, and they came together again, and the next time Apollodorus tried a simple throw, the Athenian blocked it and stepped back. Each of them landed some hits — a few more to Apollodorus — and then Polycrates hit Apollodorus in the forearm, hard enough to draw blood.
In the time it takes a man to say a single word, he had his helmet off and was apologising.
‘Too damn hard — I’m sorry, comrade. You’re beating me easily and I’m trying too hard.’ He shook his head.
Apollodorus smiled. ‘I’d be a poor man if I couldn’t take the cut of a wooden sword, Polycrates. But I think I’m done for the day.’
They embraced, though, and Polycrates was more human, and better received, after the fighting on the deck.
That night they fought again on the beach — pankration again — and this time Polycrates won three straight bouts. Other men were waiting for a turn with him, and Satyrus didn’t feel he could ask for a fourth. It wasn’t just a matter of size, although the man’s reach was impressive — so was Theron’s, and Satyrus could hold Theron to a draw.
‘You are very good,’ Polycrates said, reaching to embrace him.
Something about the compliment angered Satyrus, but he accepted the embrace and went off to his lyre. He sang Sappho’s songs to the waves and the sunset, and thought of Miriam, and wondered what surprise was waiting for him in Athens.
In the morning, he called all his fighting captains together, and walked them around the headland to where the merchant ships were gathered off the beach. ‘Apollo told me that Athens will be a danger to me,’ he said. ‘I’ve given this a certain amount of thought, and if I have understood the god’s words, then Demetrios will seek to take me in Athens,’ he said.
If he expected consternation, he was disappointed. His captains knew the gossip, had heard more about his visit to Delos than might have made him comfortable.
‘We’ll be right there behind you,’ Apollodorus said.
Satyrus shook his head, seeing in his mind the punishment Demetrios might mete out on the hostages if Satyrus landed armed marines in Athens. ‘No. I don’t want to seem a threat at all. So the fighting fleet will not enter the harbour. In fact, I want to see all the warships drop off when we have Piraeus in sight. I’ll signal with my shield — all of you sail for Aegina. If all is well, I’ll meet you there in three days. If all is not well, Apollodorus has the command and must do as he sees fit. No rescues — even if Demetrios takes me, it will only be as a prelude to further negotiation.’ He looked around. ‘Let me say that again, friends: if Demetrios takes me, it is not an act of war. No seizing Athenian shipping, no striking at his fleet up at Corinth. You hear me, friends?’
They growled — all except Aekes, who simply nodded.
Satyrus looked around. ‘If for some reason, Demetrios has me killed — well, you are all released from your oaths, but I’d take it as a favour if you would do all the damage to his shipping that you possibly can.’ He grinned.
No one grinned back. ‘Is it that bad?’ asked Apollodorus.
Satyrus shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘If not for the prophecy, I’d have no fears for myself at all. It would be the height of folly for Demetrios to attack me. But Apollo does not speak lightly to mortals.’
Aekes shook his head. ‘Makes no sense at all,’ he said. ‘If he grabs you, you forfeit very little — and Rhodes is free to break the treaty.’
‘Not while he has all their hostages,’ Satyrus answered. ‘But still — I agree, Aekes. I’ve thought about it every night — I can’t get my head around it.’
‘Why not stay here?’ Anaxilaus asked. ‘Camp on this beach — we take the grain fleet into Athens, sell the grain, meet you here. You can wrestle with Charmides.’
They all laughed.
Satyrus shook his head. ‘I have private business in Athens,’ he said.
‘Business with long legs?’ Aekes asked, but his voice was very low. ‘Listen, lord,’ he said louder. ‘I’m not a pious man, but if the god spoke to you direct, why not just obey? Stay here? Tell us who you want to meet and we’ll bring him to you.’
‘Abraham is a hostage,’ Satyrus said. ‘You can’t bring him out of Athens, and I need to see him.’
His captains looked at him with something like suspicion.
‘I’m going to Athens,’ he insisted.
‘Without your fleet?’ Sandokes asked. ‘Haven’t you got this backward, lord? If you must go, why not lead with a show of force?’
‘Can you go three days armed and ready to fight?’ Satyrus asked. ‘In the midst of the Athenian fleet? No. Trust me on this, friends. And obey — I pay your wages. Go to Aegina and wait.’
Sandokes was dissatisfied and he wasn’t interested in hiding it. ‘Lord, we do obey. We’re good captains and good fighters, and most of us have been with you a few years. Long enough to earn the right to tell you when you are just plain wrong.’ He took a breath. ‘Lord, you’re wrong. Take us into Athens — ten ships full of fighting men, and no man will dare raise a finger to you. Or better yet, stay here, or you go to Aegina and we’ll sail into Athens.’
Satyrus shrugged, angered. ‘You all feel this way?’ he asked.
Sarpax shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Aekes and Sandokes have a point, but I’ll obey you. I don’t know exactly what your relationship with Demetrios is, and you do.’ He looked at the other captains. ‘We don’t know.’
Sandokes shook his head. ‘I’ll obey, lord — surely I’m allowed to disagree?’
Satyrus bit his lip. After a flash of anger passed, he chose his words carefully. ‘I appreciate that you are all trying to help. I hope that you’ll trust that I’ve thought this through as carefully as I can, and I have a more complete appreciation of the forces at work than any of you can have.’
Sandokes didn’t back down. ‘I hope that you appreciate that we have only your best interests at heart, lord. And that we don’t want to look elsewhere for employment while your corpse cools.’ He shrugged. ‘Our oarsmen are hardening up, we have good helmsmen and good clean ships. I wager we can take any twenty ships in these waters. No one — no one with any sense — will mess with you while we’re in the harbour.’
Satyrus managed a smile. ‘If you are right, I’ll happily allow you to tell me that you told me so,’ he said.
Sandokes turned away. Aekes caught his shoulder.
‘There’s no changing my mind on this,’ Satyrus said.
Sandokes shrugged.
‘We’ll sail for Aegina when you tell us,’ Aekes said.
Satyrus had never felt such a premonition of disaster in all his life. He was ignoring the advice of a god, and all of his best fighting captains, and sailing into Athens, unprotected. But his sense — the same sense that helped him block a thrust in a fight — told him that the last thing he wanted was to provoke Demetrios.