He shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Artaphernes and I were campaigning in Phrygia.’
I nodded. ‘I took four enemy ships that day, Cyrus. If Datis gathers six hundred ships, half of them will be unwilling allies — like the Cyprians. And after we beat him, the Persian Empire in Ionia will be at an end.’
Cyrus shook his head. ‘It is a noble dream,’ he said. ‘And then all you Greeks will be free — free to be tyrants, free to kill each other, to rape and steal and lie. Free of the yoke of Persia, and good government, low taxes and peace.’ He spoke in quick anger, the way a man speaks when his son or daughter is thoughtless at table.
Now I had to shake my head. Because I knew in my heart that he spoke the truth. The world of Ionia had never been richer — or more at peace — than when Persia ruled the waves.
‘The freedom you prate of benefits the heroes,’ Cyrus said. ‘But the small farmers and the women and children? They would be happier with the King of Kings.’ He drew his beard down to a point, twirled his moustache and grunted. ‘We grow maudlin, little brother. I fear what will happen when we win. I think there will be a reckoning. I think this revolt scared my master, and even the Great King. Blood will flow. And the Greeks will know what an error they have made.’
I swirled the wine in my handleless cup and felt Persian. But I had one more arrow in my quiver, despite the way my head agreed with everything he said.
‘Cyrus?’ I asked, when he had been silent a long time. It was dark in the garden, and no slaves were coming.
‘I am tired of war,’ Cyrus said.
‘Listen, big brother,’ I said. I was pleased I had received this honorific from him — that I was part of his family.
He grunted, a few feet away in the dark.
‘If you were Greek, and not Persian, how would you think then?’ I asked.
He laughed. ‘I would fight the Great King with every weapon and every lie at my disposal,’ he said.
Persians do not lie.
We laughed together.
In the morning, I rode away after we embraced. I thought about him as I came to the pass, and I thought about him when I poured another libation for the dead of the fight there. I thought about Greece and Persia while I stood in the remnants of ruined grape vines at the top of the hill where the Athenians stopped the men of Caria at the Battle of Ephesus, where Eualcidas fell, the greatest warrior and best man of all the Greeks.
And, of course, I thought about Briseis. About her words, and her body, and how often the two are at odds.
It is the terrifying error of all boys to think that a woman’s body cannot lie. That her words may lie, but her kisses are the truth. Chastity is a myth made by men to defend territory for men — women care little for it. Or rather, women like Briseis care little for chastity. Their territory is not lessened when they take a lover but expanded. They are, in fact, like men who are killers. They have learned the thing.
If you don’t know what I mean, I shall not be the one to burden you.
Then I mounted my little horse and rode down the ridge to the river, took the ferry above the town and just after supper I came to Heraclitus’s house.
He embraced me.
I didn’t let him speak, beyond blessing me in the gateway, and told him that Abrahim the Jew of Sardis sent his greetings.
‘Datis has all the gold of Persia and six hundred ships,’ I said. ‘I have to go to Miltiades. But I need to see Briseis. Will you take me to her again?’
He looked at me — a long time, I think. I don’t really remember — or perhaps I don’t really want to remember.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘I must see her,’ I said.
Even sages make mistakes. ‘Very well,’ he said.
She sat in the dooryard where the porter would usually sit, her face hidden in the dark. Where her father had led me into his house. Where her mother had first toyed with me. Where Artaphernes had befriended me. In truth, if the toe can touch the same water in the stream twice, there were many echoes of the logos there.
‘You left me,’ she said. And then, in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘And now you return.’
I shrugged. The silence deepened, and I realized that she couldn’t see me shrug.
‘I ran all the way to Sardis,’ I said. ‘You hurt me,’ I added, and the honesty of that statement carried more conviction than all my pretend nobility and all the speeches I’d practised.
‘Sometimes I hate you,’ she said.
I remember that I protested.
‘No — listen to me,’ she said. ‘You have all the life I crave. You are the hero — you sail the seas, you kill your enemies. When you feel powerless, you turn and leave. You run to Sardis.’ She laughed, and it was a brittle sound in the dark. ‘I cannot leave. I cannot come or go, kill or leave alive. It is greatly daring of me to come here, to my own gate, but I am a slut and a trull and a traitoress, and no one will think worse of me if I spend the night here, though they may think worse of poor Heraclitus.’
‘Come with me,’ I said.
‘So that I can pine for you from your house? Perhaps I could talk of you with your sister while you make war on the Persians?’
Only then did I realize that she was crying, but when I went to her, her strong right arm pushed into my chest — hard — and she shook her head. Tears flew, and one landed on my cheek and hung there.
‘Come and be a pirate queen, then,’ I said.
She reached out and caught my hand.
At that contact, everything was healed — or rather, all our troubles were pushed away. For a few heartbeats.
‘Datis has six hundred ships, or so I’m told,’ I said.
‘This is courtship?’ she asked. ‘He has what he needs to crush the rebellion. But my husband will win without him.’
Instead of answering her, I kissed her, being not entirely a fool.
She returned my kiss with all her usual passion. Our bodies never indulged in all the foolish pride of our minds. Our bodies united the way tin and copper make bronze.
But lovers must breathe, and when we separated, she pushed me away. ‘Datis has more than six hundred ships,’ she said, her voice a trifle breathy.
I put my hand on her right breast and traced the nipple. She caught my hand, licked it and pushed it back into my lap. ‘Listen, Achilles. I am married now to a man. Not that posturing fart you killed. Artaphernes is my choice.’
I really didn’t care. I imagined that she sought power through her marriages, but I was hardly in a mood to say so.
‘My husband still seeks to reconcile the Greeks to his rule, but Datis wants them broken. Datis has been promised the satrapy to be made of Europe when the Greeks surrender. Datis has enough gold to buy every aristocrat in every city from Thebes to Athens. The tendrils of his power are felt among the ephors in Sparta. And he has bought every pirate on the Great Sea, from Cilicia to Aegypt and Libya.’ She smiled into my eyes. ‘I need to help my husband — see, I don’t even lie. If Datis triumphs, my husband is the loser.’
Every time she said ‘husband’ was like a blow. A wound.
‘Ah,’ she said, and kissed me again. ‘I never mean to hurt you like this.’
Then she pushed me away. She put a smooth ivory tube in my hand. ‘For more than a year I have tried to contact you, you fool. Artaphernes loves you. He speaks of you. He needs you. Most of his captains are fools or simple men. With us, you could be the man you should be. A great man. A lord of men.’ She put a hand behind my head. ‘Why did you take so long to come to me?’
Then I felt defeated, and a fool. And my love and my hate were a deadly brew mixed together.
‘You want me to stay here and serve your husband?’
‘You thought I toyed with you?’ she said, incredulous.
‘No,’ I confessed.
I remember it so well. If only I had walked away from her. If only I had never gone to see her.