"Whatever befall, the folk of Loryma will have their crops sorely hurt by trampling."
The anchorage was crowded. Many of Demetrios' ships, like the sevener that guided us, were too heavy to beach without special machinery. We threaded our way through the swarm of great war galleys with much exchange of shouts and curses between the captain of the Devastator and those of the other ships.
When we arrived at Loryma's lone pier, it was already occupied by a fiver on one side and a sevener on the other. We had to anchor and sit in the harbor for hours until the fiver finished loading and pulled out.
The shore swarmed with soldiers, slaves bearing burdens, camp followers, and sutlers selling food and supplies to the troops. Most of the townsfolk of Loryma were not to be seen. They prudently kept out of sight, not wishing to have soldiers bully them, rob them, or, in a moment of pique, slice off their heads. Moreover, they had sent all the free women with any pretensions to virtue back into the hills.
Demetrios' officers were everywhere, inspecting and commanding. A group of them bustled over to our side of the pier, nodding their tall crests of red and green and blue. Exekestos told them who we were. The officers shouted commands in Macedonian, and the oars were shipped. The ship was pulled up to the pier and made fast.
We climbed down the ladder, followed by our slaves with the luggage. Exekestos introduced himself and the rest of the embassy to the Antigonian officers.
"And who is the youth?" asked the senior Macedonian.
"Chares son of Nikon, a sculptor," said Exekestos. "To commemorate your lord's liberation of Athens, we plan to rear a heroic statue of your lord in our city. We brought Chares along to make sketches and models."
"A shrewd move," said the officer. "The Demetrios likes pretty boys."
He spoke to a youth who accompanied him and sent the lad racing up towards the town. In my younger days few things so enraged me as to be called a "pretty boy." But I had to learn not to make an issue of the matter on every occasion, lest I spend my life in quarrels and have no time left for art.
We made small talk with the Macedonians until the boy came back. After a whispered consultation between him and the senior officer, the latter said:
"The general cannot see the embassy until the day after tomorrow because of the press of business."
Beside me, Rhesos muttered: "By the! Does he deem himself a king already? One can get a sight of Pharnabazos sooner than of him."
"However," continued the officer, "we can let the sculptor start work at once. Go with the boy, what's-your-name."
I followed the youth with misgivings. On one hand, I am after all part Phoenician, and Phoenicians are not so free and easy towards homosexual love affairs as Hellenes. Moreover, I personally prefer women. On the other, I should find it hard to plead that I could not give in to the general's wishes because of a foreign prejudice. Some would even say it was my patriotic duty to yield.
Pondering gloomy thoughts, I followed the boy into the town's best house, from which Demetrios had evicted the owners.
I had seen Demetrios only once, when he entered Athens after taking Mounychia from Kasandros' men. He had marched through the Melitean Gate with a company of foot. The citizens, summoned to a special assembly, gathered at the Pnyx. Demetrios went past, tall and splendid in purple and gold. Some said that this was Alexander come again— nay more, that this was an improvement over the original Alexander. Demetrios was not only taller; he was also more humanly likable than the tense and fiery little Titan.
Inside, Demetrios had told the Athenians (who expected some crushing levy to pay their liberator's soldiers) that he had come to restore their ancient liberties; that their old constitution was again in force; and that his father would send them 150,000 medimnoi* (* A medimnos = 1-1/2 bushels.) of wheat and timber enough for a hundred triremes. It was, no doubt, their relief at not being squeezed by their latest overlord that led the Athenians to bestow all those preposterous honors upon Demetrios and Antigonos: that they should henceforth be known as Tutelary Gods and Saviors; that the month Mounychion should be renamed "Demetrion"; and much besides.
A hunchbacked usher led me into the andron. Here I found the general and three other men on the floor, poring over a diagram on a great sheet of papyrus, measuring four by six feet. The diagram showed a war galley. Around the room lay not only rolls of similar sheets but also wooden models of ships, siege towers, catapults, and other engines of war.
Demetrios spoke: "I think your niner would work, true enough. But tell me, what is the largest rate ever built?"
The man addressed said: "Let me think, my lord. The divine Alexander once built a tenner, and of course your father made ten of them for his attack on Tyre. Some are still in service."
"Has anybody ever built a ship with more than ten files of rowers on a side?"
"Not to my knowledge, my lord."
Demetrios grinned and slapped the man on the back. "Then we will build an elevener! Draw up the plans, with estimates of cost. Arrange the rowers in two banks, six-over-five." He looked up at me. "Rejoice! Are you the sculptor?"
"Yes, sir."
"What is your name?"
"Chares Nikonos, of Lindos. And this is my man."
"Very well, Chares, get to work. Do what you like, only do not bother me."
"Sir!" I said. "What is it?"
"I may have to bother you later on, to do your statue justice. I shall need to make some measurements and perhaps a life mask."
"What is a life mask?"
"A mold of your face, in clay."
"It sounds uncomfortable. We shall see." Demetrios got up off the floor and shouted to the usher: "Send in Epimachos!"
While the naval architects rolled up their plan, an Athenian came in and began to talk about a monstrous belfry or movable siege tower which, I gathered, Demetrios hoped soon to build.
At first I thought he meant to use it against Rhodes. The thought so alarmed me that my hands shook as I sketched. Then Demetrios said:'
"But what is the ground before Salamis like?"
I almost dropped my charcoal. There are two places called Salamis: one an island with a small city of the same name off the coast of Attika, in sight of Peiraieus; the other a city on the east coast of Cyprus. Demetrios would hardly mean to attack the Attic Salamis, as he had just come from Athens, which was friendly to him. If, on the other hand, he was bound towards Cyprus, now held by the troops of Ptolemaios, this news would certainly interest my government.
I hid my excitement and bent my attention to my subject. Demetrios Antigonou was one of the handsomest men of his time. He was no more than five years older than I—that is to say, about thirty. His light brown hair curled to his nape in the kind of mane affected by the divine Alexander. Demetrios also resembled Alexander somewhat in feature, although Alexander had been a little man, whereas Demetrios was six feet tall and magnificently muscled.
The main difference lay in this: Demetrios kept, even in maturity, a certain childish or womanish softness and roundness of feature, which contrasted with his Heraklean body. He wore only shoes and a simple tunic, though this shirt was of the finest wool, with a broad border of true Tyrian purple.
I worked for hours. Demetrios was a restless model, always jumping up and moving about. A certain amount of this is helpful to the sculptor, as it shows him the play of light and shade on the subject's features. But Demetrios was never in the same position for three heartbeats. Now and then he cast a glance at me and struck a heroic attitude, with his chin up and shoulders drawn back; the next instant, oblivious of me, he would be absorbed in some new military problem.
When Demetrios had finished with Epimachos and his belfry, he sent for his chief of artillery, Apollonios, who brought in a model of a catapult of new design. At last the general dismissed Apollonios and said: