Down the valley, he saw a woman talking to a horseman. Horses weren’t common in Plataea. Something about her straight back and the carriage of her head alerted him. But the horseman walked his horse along with her for some distance, quite openly, and he lost interest.
The other option was to go to Demetrios.
It was, after all, what had brought him to mainland Greece — the opportunity to see Miriam and to discuss the release of the hostages. And now there was no better way for him to judge the man’s intentions — except for the price of being wrong.
It pleased his sense of action, though, and he began to weigh methods of providing for his own safety.
Now the horseman was mounted — well over towards Cithaeron. But he didn’t ride over the pass to Athens, rather, he rode west, and Satyrus dismissed him. A boyfriend, a local aristocrat — not that she seemed to like the breed. For surely the woman down at the bridge had been Tegara.
She didn’t meet his eye that night, at dinner, which she didn’t eat with the men, but merely supervised.
‘I think that it is time to move,’ Satyrus said. ‘Have you considered my offer?’
Satyrus was surprised when Ajax responded. He was the largest, and his face typically wore a look of deep and bovine stupidity.
Not when he spoke, however. ‘We like it,’ he said, and shrugged his giant shoulders. ‘But we await the views of Odysseus. We have sworn oaths — the view of one is the view of all.’
Satyrus nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said.
Achilles nodded. ‘I, too, think it is time to move. There were horsemen up towards Eleutherai today, and down at the bridge, as well.’
Satyrus nodded. ‘I saw them. Or rather, I saw one of them.’ He looked at Tegara, and had his suspicions confirmed. She looked away, and she was not a great dissimulator.
‘Tegara was speaking to one of the horsemen,’ Satyrus said quietly.
She stood taller. ‘Well?’ she said to Achilles. ‘What if I was? He was pretty enough, and asked me nicely the road to Corinth.’
Achilles looked at Satyrus.
Satyrus nodded. ‘He did ride off towards Corinth,’ he said.
Achilles gave her a long look. ‘Woman, you have a good life here,’ he said. ‘And we need you to run the house, so don’t …’ He shook his head.
She turned red, then white. ‘A good life, is it?’ she asked.
Satyrus rose. ‘I think we should be gone in the morning,’ he said.
Memnon nodded. ‘I agree. Demetrios is at Corinth, right?’ He looked at Tegara, and she glared at him.
Ajax swore. ‘Y’er crazed, woman! This is our business. You ha’ no right.’ He looked at Achilles, who had her by the arm. ‘The man is right — we ought an’ be gone. But then Odysseus won’t know where to fin’ us.’ He glared right back at Tegara. ‘An’ we can’t exactly tell her.’
‘Kill her?’ Achilles said wearily.
They were such pleasant men, in a bluff, soldier-like way, that Satyrus almost missed the moment where their professional needs overbalanced any pretence of morality. Tegara was crying — not dramatically, but simply standing still, sobbing quietly, and Achilles had his sword at her throat.
‘Wait!’ Satyrus said. ‘Why not ask her what she did? And why? And then … Gods, gentlemen, why kill her?’
Achilles looked puzzled. ‘She crossed us,’ he said. ‘It’s on her face.’
‘She’s just a woman,’ Memnon added. ‘She’s got no one to come back on us.’
Satyrus stood up. ‘If you’re working for me,’ he said, ‘then I forbid you to kill her. As long as she tells us who she told and why.’
She drew herself up. ‘You lot act like lords,’ she said. ‘I am a woman of Plataea, and you are robbers, thieves, and war-whores. You think I like watching what you do?’ She shrugged. Slumped. ‘I think they’re Demetrios’s men. Cavalrymen.’ She looked at Satyrus. ‘They was looking for him before you lot got back — except that they called him the “King of the Bosporus”.’
Satyrus nodded. ‘I am the king,’ he said.
Achilles hit her so hard she crumpled to the floor. ‘I guess that I am working for you, lord,’ he said. ‘So I won’t kill her — though I think you’re being a soft fool.’
‘You’re hardly the first to think so,’ Satyrus said. ‘Ethics matter. How matters, not just where and why.’ He stepped over, looked at the woman, and sighed. ‘If we ride now, can we get clear?’
‘Head for Delphi,’ Memnon said. ‘I’ll go up the mountain and hide — no bunch of gentlemen-cavalry will find me. I’ll find Odysseus.’
Then they were all business — Satyrus wolfed down the rest of his meal, having long experience with riding hard. He ran to the top floor of the tower, filled a leather bag with clothes and pins, a comb — left the lyre.
The courtyard was dark, even with torches lit, but Memnon took him by the hand.
‘Ajax says we’re not to light anything else, or watchers’ll know what’s afoot,’ he said. ‘Here’s your horse.’
Achilles was already mounted. ‘I’m going down across Asopus, and cross country to Thebes,’ he said. ‘Then north to Delphi. I expect to make it there in two days unless we have to hide.’
Memnon gave a rough salute, his dark skin glinting in the fitful torchlight like polished iron. ‘I’ll find you.’
Then they were away, down the hill, picking their way carefully along the road in moonless darkness. The stars were like distant lamps on the clear night, and the sound of insects was only drowned by the gurgle of the river as they rode to the bridge.
Achilles leaned over and handed Satyrus a spear. ‘I don’t see anyone on the bridge,’ he said, ‘but fuck, there could be twenty men behind that house and I wouldn’t see them.’
He rode forward first, and Satyrus followed him, feeling freer with a good cavalry spear in his fist. The feeling lasted until their horses’ unshod hooves were ringing on the stone bridge, and then Achilles stopped his horse and cursed, filling the narrow bridge, and Satyrus glanced back to find that there were at least a dozen horsemen closing in behind him.
He couldn’t see past Achilles, but even over the sound of water he could hear the sounds of a troop of horse — sounds familiar from childhood.
‘Boss …’ Achilles turned in his saddle. He had a sword in his hand, but it wasn’t pointed at Satyrus. ‘I think we’ve fucked away your talents of silver, I’m sorry to say.’ He shrugged. ‘We’re surrounded. Demetrios’s men, I’d say.’
Satyrus looked back again. ‘Damn.’
Achilles shrugged. ‘To be honest, it’s probably our fault, but I’d rather not die for it. Will you surrender?’
Satyrus patted the blade at his side. He balanced the spear in his hand. The horsemen behind him were sitting — not calm, either. ‘Probably not,’ he said.
Achilles nodded. ‘Try talking to the officer. Look, lord, he probably has a hundred men and they’ve been all around us since afternoon.’
‘Satyrus of Tanais?’ called an officer. He was tall and blond. Satyrus could remember him from Demetrios’s staff. His armour was worth the value of the farm on the hill, or more.
Satyrus nodded. ‘Here I am. I have a truce with your master. Why are you here?’
The officer’s grin showed obvious relief. ‘Lord, I’m so damned glad to find you I could burst. Lord, we’re here to protect you. Thanks to all the gods you’re alive.’
Satyrus looked around. ‘This is not what I expected,’ he said to Achilles. He looked at the sell-sword. ‘You didn’t sell me yourself?’ he asked quietly.
Achilles frowned. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Bad for my reputation, something like that.’
‘Would you four ride with me? If I went with them?’ Satyrus pointed at the Aegema. ‘My offer is still good.’
‘Escort?’ Achilles asked.
‘If he agrees to it, and leaves us all armed, I learn something,’ Satyrus said. ‘To be honest, if you and he can’t agree to that — I might as well fall on my sword. I’m not going to be taken again. And for whatever reason, I trust you.’