When the paean ended, so many men were weeping that it sounded as if the god was mourning, the sound of their laments echoing from the temple and across the agora, the sound magnified by the men too wounded to march but standing in orderly ranks at the foot of the temple steps, and the women, mothers and sisters and lovers and wives.
The troopers carrying Cleitus’s ashes climbed the steps and placed the ashes where Kineas and Petrocolus had placed a bronze statue of Nike from Nicomedes’ house. The priests sacrificed in the temple and blessed the people and the city, and then Helladius raised his arms and turned to Kineas.
Kineas dismounted from his Macedonian charger and walked up the steps, his thigh burning at every step and making his climb painful and slow. He stopped below the statue of Nike, so that her wings were over his head, and turned to the crowd.
‘I speak to the whole city, the citizens and the wives and the mothers and the farmers and the smiths and the Greeks and the Sindi and even the slaves,’ he said. A year of speaking in public had improved his manner, and the occasion gained him their utter silence.
‘Nothing I can say will make the dead greater in the eyes of the gods,’ he said. ‘Cleitus, who gave his life to save you from the tyrant, failed because he was one man. But all the dead, together, drove the Macedonian from the field and slaughtered him. And all together killed the tyrant and freed the city. All the dead sacrificed themselves equally for the triumph of the city.’
He looked out over the agora with the feeling that he could see many men who were dead, and perhaps even some who were not yet alive. ‘When we faced Zopryon in battle, no man flinched. The Sakje stood and the Greeks stood. The hippeis stood and the hoplites stood. The citizen and the mercenary stood together. Indeed, the slaves stood their ground, and this city has twice a hundred free men today because as slaves they did not cower.
‘Virtue — freedom and liberty — is the concern of every man, not a few politicians or a few soldiers,’ he said. ‘I will chide you, Olbia, in full view of all the gods. You allowed a few men to make your laws and paid a few men to guard your walls, and those few became your rulers. Politicians and mercenaries!’ he bellowed, and his words echoed off the walls.
‘Cleitus died to pull down the tyrant — and failed, because he was one man, murdered for his voice. We waded in blood to stop Macedon — aye, and lost hundreds of the flower of this city’s best men. But on our return, we overthrew the tyrant in an hour with a thousand willing hands helping us into the city and into the citadel. Women threw down ropes to the army. Slaves led us to the open postern of the citadel. Never let this lesson be lost on you, citizens of Olbia! Women of Olbia! Slaves of Olbia! In your hands are the keys to the city and the keys of your own chains!’
Chains chains chains echoed off the walls.
‘Had Cleitus lived, he would now be archon,’ Kineas continued. ‘He was an honest man, a powerful speaker and a trained lawmaker. But he is dead.’ Kineas paused, and then pointed at another Nike, also from Nicomedes’ house, beside him on the steps. ‘Had he lived, Nicomedes might have been archon. He desired the role with all his ambition, and he had the talents to lead the city to greatness. But he fell in the battle.’
Kineas looked out over the crowd, where men shouted ‘Lead us, then!’ as if they had been paid. He shook his head.
‘I have acted as archon for a few days — to see the dead buried, and to see good laws passed. But I will not be tyrant. And if I stay, either I will make myself your lord, or you yourselves will make me take the power. I must go east — to fight against Macedon, and to preserve the liberty you have just won. Our allies on the plains still need our help, and I will go with them. And when I return, you will be a strong state, with a free assembly, and I will vote my vote and grumble when my motion is defeated, drinking my wine in a wine shop and cursing that my side had the fewer voices.’
Then he told the story of the campaign, from the first rumour of Zopryon, to the assembly voting for war, through the campaign against the Getae and on to the last battle — a long story, so that his voice was hoarse when he reached the end. He named as many of the dead as he could — from young Kyros, who had been a great athlete, the first to fall in combat, to Satyrus One-Eye, who died in the courtyard of the tyrant’s palace. He recounted their names and their deeds, until the crowd wept again that so many had fallen. And as he spoke, the sun rose to its full height in the sky.
When he fell silent, Helladius saluted the disk of the sun, and all the people cheered, and then they sang: I begin singing of Demeter,
The goddess with shining hair,
And Persephone, her daughter, fair Slim-ankled, too. Hades took her,
Zeus gave her to his brother,
Far-seeing Lord of Thunder.
They sang the hymn to the end, and another to Apollo, as the sun rose strong on their faces. And then Kineas raised his arms for silence and summoned the assembly for the next day. He bowed to the grave markers of Cleitus and Nicomedes as if the men were standing with him and then he limped down the steps of the temple, mounted his horse and rode away.
That night, Kineas dreamed again of the column of the dead, and again a dead friend vomited sand — this time Graccus, a long-dead boyhood friend. But the tone of the dream changed, so that he was less afraid. And then a woman came to him.
‘I have come to offer you a choice,’ she said. She had the white skin of a goddess and she looked like his mother — or like someone else, someone as familiar as his mother.
He smiled at her in the dream because it was such a Greek dream, a welcome relief from the strain of the tree and the animal totems and the alienness that had infected his dreams since he came to the plains. She was dressed in a peculiar garment, a bell-shaped skirt and a tight jacket that bared her breasts. Kineas had seen such a costume on a priestess once, and on old statues.
‘State your choice, Goddess,’ Kineas said.
She laughed when he called her goddess. ‘If you remain here, you will be king. You will rule well and wisely, and your city will be the richest in the circle of the seas.’
Kineas nodded.
‘If you travel east, your life will be short-’ she said.
Kineas interrupted her without intending it. ‘This is Achilles’ choice?’ he asked. ‘If I go east, I will live a short life, but a glorious one? And all the world will know my name?’
She smiled, and it was an ill smile, the sort that terrified men. ‘Do not interrupt me,’ she said. ‘Hubris has many forms.’
Kineas stood in silence.
‘If you go east, your life will be short, and no one but your friends and your enemies will know your name.’
Kineas nodded. ‘It seems like an easy choice,’ he said.
The goddess smiled. She kissed his brow…
He awoke to ponder the meaning of the first dream — a true one, he was sure. He needed Kam Baqca to interpret it, but it occurred to him that Helladius was not such a fool as he sometimes acted. The second dream needed no interpretation.
Kineas arose with the kiss of the goddess still lingering on his forehead and a sense of well-being, a very different mood from the day before. The sun was shining on the sand of the hippodrome. And down the hall, Sitalkes sat up in his bed and Coenus asked for a book, and the mood of the barracks changed as if the sun had come inside. Indeed, Kineas wondered if men were simpler creatures than he had supposed, that a day of sunshine could so change their mood, or serve to mend wounded men who had abandoned hope and turned to the wall, expecting to die. Men recovered in the citadel, and in their homes, as if the touch of the sun on their skin carried the healing of the Lord of the Silver Bow.
Kineas had a morning meeting arranged with the Athenian captains in his role as the acting archon, but well before that he donned his second-best tunic and a light chlamys and slipped out of the barracks alone. He purchased a cup of fruit juice from a stall in the agora, ate a seed cake in front of a jeweller’s stall, purchased a fine gold ring for Srayanka and then climbed the steps of the temple of Apollo just as the morning prayer to the sun was finished.