Her absence did not alarm me until the dinner hour had come and gone without her. A knock on the door brought me bounding up, prepared for our usual tearful reconciliation. Instead of the Heraean form of Amenardis, however, there stood a small brown boy with a note in his hand and a mongrel at his heels.
"You Master Chares?" he said with an Egyptian accent.
"Yes." I gave him his half-obolos and took the papyrus. As boy and dog scampered off into the dusk, I read:
BEROSOS OF BABYLON WISHES CHARES NIKONOS WELL.
Know, dear friend, that Amenardis and I have left Alexandria on a ship for foreign parts. It wrings my liver thus to make off with your loved one—nay more, to leave the service of beautiful Rhodes. But like wet clay am I in the hands of this wonderful woman, whom I have loved with a passion that passes description ever since she nursed my wounds at Bousiris. When she commands me to go, I go.
Moreover, truth to tell, I am weary of being frightened nigh unto death, as I have been by the fighting at Rhodes and again on our venture to Memphis. No Gilgamos or other mythical hero am I, but a timid, indolent, self-indulgent man of scholarly tastes, who asks for nought but to be left alone with his philosophical studies. I simply cannot face the prospect of more death and danger. Besides, the stars foretell that certain disaster awaits me if I continue in this ill-chosen career.
Should we ever meet again, I hope that your just wrath against me will by then have waned. Come what may, to Mardoukos and Istar and Nebos on your behalf I shall pray. Farewell.
Never have I undergone such a variety of emotions as I did in the hour after I received that letter. I crumpled the papyrus and threw it across the room. I raved and cursed and stamped. I threw myself on the couch and beat it with my fists. I wept with self-pity. I swore to follow Berosos to Kôs—for I was sure he had gone thither—and cut his heart out.
Then, realizing that I was waxing hungrier by the heartbeat, I got my own dinner. I ate with a curious feeling of relief that I could not at first account for, as I assumed that my spirit was dissolved and that life was virtually over.
As I finished the rough repast, it struck me that I was fortunate, after all, for the strain of these daily quarrels had told on my nerves. From that I passed to the thought that Berosos had really done me a favor. While I roundly condemned his desertion of my beautiful Rhodes, I owed him thanks for resolving an intolerable personal situation.
Anyway, I thought with malicious satisfaction, for any wrong that Berosos has done, he will be amply punished by this Erinys in mortal form whom he has taken unto his bosom. Folly is mortals' self-selected misfortune.
Smiling in that empty little rented room (which I should give up on the morrow to move back to the safety and economy of the barracks) I poured an extra cup of wine and raised the mug in a toast to my fugitive colleague.
"Good luck, old boy," I said. "You'll need it."
BOOK IX — DIOGNETOS
Before the dawn of a blustery day in Elaphebolion, when Kaikias blew boisterously, the Halia swept into the Great Harbor of Rhodes under sail and oar, the spray curling from her ram. We cheered and waved from her deck as our beautiful city opened out before us, for the dawning light soon showed that King Demetrios had not had his will of the City of Roses. The solar-disk standards still rose from the fortifications around the Great Harbor, while the king's ships still lay, by scores and hundreds, in South Harbor and in the coves along the coast. A fiver had put out to intercept us, but our speed and the direction of the wind had rendered her effort futile.
Trumpets blew as soon as we were within recognition distance, and continued to blow as we pulled up to the quay. Soldiers trotted through the harbor gate and lined up on the waterfront. A group of plumed officers walked out in front of them; among these I recognized President Damoteles, Admiral Damophilos, General Ananias, and my old commander, Bias the carpenter. A straggle of civilians also issued from the gate, forming a crowd behind the line of soldiers. There were many women in the crowd; I was astonished to see that most of them had their hair cut short, like a man's.
Python climbed down the ladder. He brought his heels together, saluted with his sword, and cried:
"Sirs, I have returned from Egypt to report success in my mission. The Ptolemaios has promised us three hundred thousand medimnoi of wheat and other provisions, and perhaps some more soldiers to follow later."
The soldiers waved their spears; the crowd cheered, albeit the cheers had a thin sound. The President said:
"That is good news, Captain. How soon will these supplies arrive?"
"When the seas are calm enough to sail from Alexandria, perhaps within the month."
The officers looked at one another. Damophilos said: "We shall be dead of starvation by then. We've hanged six men in the last ten-day for stealing from the public stores of food."
Python said: "We brought what little grain we could carry in the ship."
Bias grunted. "I've been starving on a roll of lentil bread a day so long I'm used to it. I guess I can hold out a while longer."
Our executive officer motioned us to start leaving the ship. We climbed down the ladder and mustered. Python made a speech, ending:
"You have all done well by your city, which is the greatest single virtue a man can have. A cheer, now: lai for beautiful Rhodes! ... You have one day at liberty; then report to your regular officers for assignment. Dismissed!"
Everybody started to mill about and greet his friends and dear ones; the uxorious Onas set off for his home at a run. Chares!" said a soldier in the line.
"Glôs!" I cried. "I didn't know you!"
"I hardly know myself," he said, looking down at his shrunken form. "I almost fit my armor now. We must get together, and you shall tell me all about the beautiful food you had in Egypt. That's all we think about here."
"What in Hera's name have the women done to their hair? Is this some new Scythian fad?"
"No, they've given their hair to the city for catapult skeins."
My father pushed through the crowd. We fell into each other's arms. He looked wan and drawn, like all the others, but still his competent, self-reliant old self.
"You've had one of your wishes granted, son," he said.
"How so?"
"Your mother's flower garden is no more. Every space like that in the city is given over to the growing of food. We are hoping for a crop of peas and beans, if neither birds nor burglars get them first. You didn't bring a sack of grain from Egypt, did you?"
"Alas, Father, I'm a selfish, thoughtless, worthless son! It never occurred to me. But Python brought a little to add to the city's store."
"Chares!" called Bias. "You'll have to give him up for a piece, Nikon. You know how it is. The more important they get to be, the less you see of them."
"When he makes general, I shan't see him at all, then," said my father. "Come home when you can, Chares. We can't give you much of a homecoming feast, but we can at least feast our eyes upon you."
"What's important about me?" I asked Bias.
"Oh, don't you know? But of course you wouldn't. You're a battery commander now. Come with me and I'll show you your command."
"By the! That's something. Then what are you?"
"General of artillery. Phaon is your battalion commander."
"Zeus, what a lot of promotion in three months! Have all the other officers been killed?"