Killer of Men

And then I took my new ship back to the Chersonese. On the way, I stood in my bow and wondered at what Troas had said, and how I had cried. How could I ever give this up to shovel pig shit? I was a lord of the waves, a killer of men. I laughed, and the gulls cried.

But over on the European coast of the Chersonese, a raven cawed, the raucous sound braying on and on. Miltiades came down to the docks to meet us, and I laid his share of the take at his feet – every obol – and he shook his head.

'Walk with me,' he said.

We walked down the beach, and I remember the smell of the sea-wrack and the dead fish rotting in the white-hot summer sun.

He put an arm around my shoulder. 'I thought you'd deserted,' he said. 'I apologize. Men will tell you that I said some things about you. But you are weeks overdue.'

'I had a lot of copper in my bilges,' I said. And it was true. 'I went to a port I know in Crete to sell it.'

He wasn't listening. 'Right, right,' he said. 'I have a note for you. From Olorus.' He handed me a small silver tube.

I opened it. It held a scrap of papyrus, and on it someone had written a verse of Sappho.

I smiled.

'I have a big draft of recruits coming in,' he said. 'You planning to crew that Ephesian ship yourself?'

'Planning to return him to his true owner,' I said. 'An old friend of mine. But I paid you your half.'

Miltiades shook his head. 'I told your father once that you were more like an aristocrat than most men I knew,' he said. 'You love this man enough to give him a ship?'

I had an idea – a mad idea. I'd thought about it since I'd had Diomedes' captain under the point of my sword. Or perhaps since Troas told me that I should go back to the plough and find a home.

I would need Miltiades' good will, though. So I shrugged and told the truth – always disarming with manipulative men. And women. 'I love Aristagoras's wife,' I said.

It was Miltiades' turn to shrug. 'I know,' he said. 'I've seen her. Even pregnant. And men tell me things. About you, too.'

'It is her ship,' I said.

Miltiades nodded. He turned to face me and he was a different man. He was dealing with me a new way – one warlord to another, maybe. Or one adulterer to another. 'If you send her that ship,' he said, 'her husband will take it – and lose it.'

'I thought that I might just kill her husband,' I said. And go back to my farm in Boeotia? I wondered.

'His people would follow you to Thule. To the Hyperboreans.' Miltiades shook his head. 'I hate the bastard, too, but if he goes down, my hand can't be in it, and that goes double for my captains. I feared you might have some such foolishness in mind.'

I turned away.

'Bide your time,' Miltiades said. 'You're young, and she's young. I assume she loves you, too? If she didn't, Aristagoras would hardly hate you the way he does.'

'Does he?' I asked. 'He's pretty dickless.'

Miltiades chuckled. 'It's true – his parts must be fairly small. But he did try to have you murdered on Lesbos,' the Athenian said. 'You'll recall that I saw to it.' He grinned. 'I've been a good friend to you.'

Ah, the delightful customs of the aristocracy.

'There's no rush,' Miltiades said again. 'Listen to me, boy.'

I was getting wiser in the ways of men – hard men. When Paramanos brought his daughters aboard, I knew he was mine – because he'd committed his life to the Chersonese. I liked him – but I needed him. And yes, I would have twisted his arm to keep him. The longer I spent with Miltiades, the more like him I would become. That summer, I was the highest earner of all Miltiades' captains. Briseis gave him a hold on me. He knew it, and I knew he knew it. I wasn't going anywhere.

'He looks like a good ship,' Miltiades said cheerfully. 'Crew him up and give him to Paramanos.' He looked at my new acquisition. 'When the time is right, when you need help, I'll see to it you have my aid in getting your girl. My word on it.'

Now, Miltiades was as foxy as his red head proclaimed, subtle, devious and dangerous. He lied, he stole and he would do anything, and I mean anything, for power. But when he gave his word, that was his word. He was the very archetype of the kind of Greek the Persians couldn't understand – the kind of man Artaphernes detested, all talk and no honesty, as Persians saw it. But when he gave his word, a thing was done.

'Even if I'm dead,' I said.

He took my hand, and we shook. 'Even if you are dead. Athena Nike, Goddess of Victory, and Ajax my ancestor hear my oath.'

And that was that. I named the new ship Briseis and I kept the newly enfranchised rowers, crewing the deck and marines from Miltiades' men, including all his former slaves. Our new recruits came from Athens, three hundred men. I let Paramanos pick himself a crew from the best of them. Miltiades had an arrangement with the city – it was a secret, or so I reckoned, since even Herk and Cimon were closed-mouthed about it. But the men who came were thetes, low-class free men of Athens, and sometimes of Athenian allies like Plataea or Corcyra. The cities were rid of their malcontents and we got motivated men, ready to fight for a new life. Miltiades swore them to service – he was absolute lord in the Chersonese, and he didn't play games with democracy like some tyrants – and made them citizens.

He got aristocrats, too – not many, and most of them down on their luck – but he bought their loyalty with land and rich prizes and they served him as household officers and marines.

The positive side to the arrangement was that new men – former slaves – like Idomeneus and Lekthes – and me – were at home in the Chersonese. The aristocrats needed us and treated us as equals, or near enough.

Miltiades' informants said that the Great King, Darius, was tired of the pirates in the Chersonese, and intended to send a strong naval expedition against us. On the opposite shore of the Bosporus, Artaphernes and his generals, Hymaees and Otanes and Darius's son-in-law, Daurises, campaigned against the Carians. The first battle was a bloody loss for the men of bronze, and they sent to Lesbos for help from their supposed confederates, the men of Aeolis, but the new tyrant ignored them. They fought a second battle to a bloody draw, and though they lost many of their best men, they drove the Medes from Caria – for a time.

We felt like spectators – worse, we felt like truants or deserters. The fighting was so close that we could sometimes see troops moving on the opposite shore. I would train my marines with actual sparabara, the elite Persian infantry, visible across the straits.

By midsummer, Miltiades could take no more. He added another pair of triremes to his fleet, purchasing them from Athens, got another draft of new men to crew them, then took us to sea to attack the Phoenician squadron that supported Darius's army.

We had better rowers. Our ships, except mine, were lower and faster under oars, and we could turn faster. Miltiades insisted that we were fighting for profit, not glory, so we were cautious, attacking only when we had overwhelming odds, seizing a store ship here and a Lebanese merchant there.

By the great feast of Heracles, I couldn't stand it any more. My ship was not suited to these tactics and all my crewmen were grumbling because we were snatching at snacks while the other crews feasted.

I wonder now if Miltiades intended that I should revolt.

A great many things happened in the space of a few days, and the course of events is lost to me now. I can only tell this as I remember it. I remember sitting in a wine shop on the quay, drinking good Chian wine with Paramanos and Stephanos. Paramanos had his own ship, the Briseis, and he wanted Lekthes as his marine captain.

I shrugged. 'Can't you find your own?' I asked.

He laughed. 'Why not give me all your marines? You don't use them any more.' He chuckled, and I frowned. It was true. My ship was too heavy for the new tactics.