Kinon watched it all with pride – pride in his team and pride in his table. ‘The Macedonians aren’t united. Antipater’s death was like the end of the world for them. Antigonus is not Antipater, nor yet is Cassander – or Olympias – in charge. The Athenians are still powerful, and they will back anyone who gets the garrison out of their city – at the moment, they favour Cassander.’ He shrugged. ‘I think that Stratokles is working for Cassander. And Cassander needs grain from the Euxine to woo Athens. Am I making sense to you?’
Theron looked around in confusion. ‘I heard all this every day in Corinth and still it made no sense to me.’
‘Attica and Athens eat three times as much grain as they produce,’ Kinon said. ‘Men like me grow rich collecting the grain from the Euxine and selling it to Athens. Cassander needs that grain to flow to make Athens happy. He can accomplish this by supporting Eumeles of Pantecapaeum as sole king of the Bosporus. Hence, you children are in his way and need to be eliminated.’
Philokles nodded. ‘I’d come to the same conclusion myself.’
Kinon continued, ‘Our Leon is heavily invested in Aegypt and the new city there at Alexandria, so we are, willy-nilly, allies of Ptolemy. That sets us against Cassander, and against Antigonus sometimes and Eumenes the Cardian at other times. Cassander is power-mad, Antigonus is an excellent general and a useless ruler, Eumenes would be a great man if he weren’t so addicted to proving he’s a better man than any Macedonian. He really is the best general and the best man of the lot, but is a Greek and not a Macedonian – you can imagine what that means.’
Philokles gave a grim smile. ‘I know,’ he said.
‘And he married one of Alexander’s mistresses – you know that? Banugul? She had a son by Alexander, although not many people know it. A handsome boy named Herakles.’
Melitta’s eyes happened to be on Kallista. She saw the slave girl’s attention fix. She was listening attentively, and her eyes stole off to cross with someone else, someone standing behind Melitta. She rolled back, casually tossing her arm over her brother, and saw Tenedos, the steward, standing by a sideboard with a ewer of wine. He didn’t seem aware of the conversation, and Melitta, watching, saw so many slaves come and go that she couldn’t be sure.
Perhaps slaves listened all the time.
‘I know Banugul,’ Philokles said.
Kinon grinned. ‘So you said last night! I gather there’s a lot to know. Leon was fulsome in her praises. He continues to be her friend, and loans her money, and keeps track of her son.’
Even as Melitta watched, Philokles took a gulp of wine and stared off into space, lost in reminiscence. Next to her, her brother cleared his throat.
‘I think that I understand it, Master Kinon. So Cassander must be allied with Heron,’ he said. He was handed a gold cup by one of the slaves, and he took an appreciative sip. ‘I can see how the sides will shape up – even how this will affect the Euxine.’
Kinon looked at the boy with respect. ‘Yes, young prince. That is exactly correct. I’ve only had a few days to put this together, but it appears to me that Heron has offered to put the whole north of the Euxine at Cassander’s disposal in exchange for a free hand.’
Melitta spoke quietly. ‘Any news of our mother?’ she asked.
‘I fear not.’ Kinon shook his head.
‘Let us do honour to the meal, and banish sad thoughts,’ Philokles said.
Melitta leaned over so that her chin was on Satyrus’s shoulder. ‘They think she’s dead,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ Satyrus whispered. The food swam before his eyes.
Melitta put her arm around him. ‘It’s better if she’s dead, rather than a slave or worse,’ she said. ‘We are her children, and the children of Kineas. Make your face a mask of bronze, and start to think of our revenge.’ But even as she spoke the words, her voice broke.
Satyrus sobbed first, but in a moment they were crying – not bold princes of the Euxine, but two children whose mother was probably dead. They lay together, weeping, and the other diners avoided looking at them.
Their sobs lasted through much of the tuna, and then they dried their eyes and ate. Satyrus began to build himself a mask of bronze in his mind. Philokles’ new helmet had a high peak and long cheekpieces that covered his face in the front, imitating a moustache and beard and a Thracian hat. Satyrus chewed the excellent tuna and some rich salmon sauce on oysters and good, thick barley bread and thought of the armoured mask, and how it would cover his face, hide his fear. If I cannot be brave, he thought, I will pretend to be brave. That is my duty. He looked at his sister, who was obviously enjoying her food, pouring quantities of honey vinegar over the fish in a way the cook had never intended, to suit her sweet tooth, and he wondered why the gods had given her so much courage.
He drank several cups of wine, on purpose. Then, when the men were preparing to do some serious drinking, Satyrus got off his couch holding a krater. He walked to the middle of the garden, and the others fell silent. He was nervous – he was taking a chance, although he couldn’t see just how.
‘Kinon, this may be our last night as guests. Tonight I spill a libation to Zeus, master of all, who loves a man who has guests. And I offer libation to Athena, my patroness, and Herakles, my ancestor, and all the gods.’ Satyrus felt just a trace of nerves, like elation. The wine covered the rest.
‘Hear him,’ Theron said.
‘Well said,’ Philokles agreed.
‘And before all the gods, I offer this oath. That neither age nor weakness nor infirmity, nor the number of my enemies, nor any other power of the earth, the heavens or the underworld, will keep me – keep us, the twins – from our revenge on anyone who ordered,’ his mask slipped and his voice broke, ‘ordered our mother’s death. They will die. We will rule the Bosporus. They will rue the day they chose to start this war.’
Philokles watched him with sad eyes. ‘Alas, boy, such an oath, once sworn, carries power. Even now, the Furies listen, and they move the strands of fate. What joy did you just forfeit? What doom have you created?’
Melitta rose and went to stand by her brother. ‘I stand beside my brother in this oath. We care nothing for the consequences, dear tutor. We will have revenge. Eumeles who was Heron will die. Upazan will die. Cassander of Macedon will die. Every hand against us – to the end of the game-’
‘Stop!’ Theron begged. ‘By the gods, will you children stop before the gods punish you first?’
Melitta appeared to be filled with fire. Her face caught the last of the sun, the deer on her arms twinkled like stars and her dress was an unearthly white. ‘We will stop for nothing,’ she said. Her words sounded oracular. A gust of wind swept through the garden, moving the roses and making the torches flare into great gouts of flame.
Kallista clapped her hands. ‘The gods hear you, Melitta!’ she said, and then looked embarrassed at her own temerity.
Philokles glanced at Theron on the next couch. ‘You sure you want to stay with these children?’ he asked. There was no irony to his question.
Theron sighed. ‘I feel the weight of doom,’ he said. ‘Until this moment, I was the son of a fisherman.’
‘Now you are the ally of the twins,’ Philokles said.
Kinon shook his head. ‘Swearing revenge is all very well for my rose garden,’ he said. ‘But keep that to yourself in front of Dionysius. He plays this game. He plays it well. He outmanoeuvred Alexander and he has kept us free of Perdikkas and now Cassander. Don’t make him send you away – because he will not harbour you if you endanger his policy.’