Kineas nodded. ‘It is much the same at sea, Lord. You can feel your way along a coast to a certain point, but when Poseidon wills it, you must chance to the wine-dark sea and ride the waves or perish.’
In the last light, the king’s smile was grim. ‘My meaning was a little different, Kineas. On the river, Bion would stop. He would stop to rest, stop to prove that he still could stop, to delay that moment when he committed to everything to that last rush to success or destruction.’ He shrugged, the motion almost lost in the darkness. ‘In an hour, I will give the order, and my people will fall on Zopryon. And from that moment, I am on the river, and it is in full spate.’
Kineas kneed his horse closer to the king’s, and put his hand on the other man’s. ‘And you wish to stop?’ he asked.
The king put his whip hand over Kineas’s hand. ‘You, too, are a commander. You, too, know the terror — the weight of other men’s hopes, and other men’s fears. I wish to stop — or to have it done.’
‘I know it,’ said Kineas, voicing his own fears.
They sat together for a few more seconds, watching the fall of darkness out to the west. And for that night at least, they were friends.
‘Come,’ said the king. ‘Let’s board the boat.’
Philokles and Diodorus were waiting with a group of strangers at the edge of the camp. The king had already appointed the place and time for the meeting of his council — the hour after dawn, in his wagon laager. Kineas, Nicomedes, Leucon and Niceas rode along the river to the encampment of the Greeks, now full of tents and wagons stretching off into the darkness.
‘Congratulations are in order?’ Diodorus said, clasping Kineas’s hand as soon as he slid from his horse.
Niceas laughed, touched his amulet as if to avoid hubris, and said, ‘You missed some good fighting.’ He grinned. ‘As good as anything against the Medes. The Getae don’t even know our tricks — it was grand.’
Philokles stood a little apart, although he greeted each of the commanders warmly enough. Kineas clasped his hand. ‘I missed you,’ he said.
Philokles’ look of reserve melted away. ‘And I you,’ he said. Then, after casting a glance toward the Olbian officers, he said, ‘I have news, most of it bad.’
Kineas took a deep breath. ‘Tell me.’
‘It should be told in private,’ Philokles said. ‘It isn’t known in camp.’
‘Are the hoplites here?’ Kineas asked.
‘Two or three days away, and marching hard. The Pantecapaeum horse is in camp, and the Sauromatae.’
‘That will please the king,’ Kineas said. ‘What’s so bad?’
Other men were coming up from the darkness. Antigonus cast his arms around Kineas and they embraced. ‘We heard you were close,’ he said. ‘And that you won.’
Niceas was already regaling a crowd of the older hands with war stories. Wineskins appeared, with strong country wine that tasted of goat and pine pitch. Kineas stood with Leucon and Nicomedes and told the basic story of the campaign while most of the men in the Greek camp came up to listen.
‘So the Getae are smashed,’ Philokles said.
‘The king thought they had been destroyed for a generation — perhaps longer,’ Leucon said.
Philokles winced, his eyes flicking to Sitalkes, who was laughing with the men of his troop. Kineas took him by the elbow and led him a little apart. ‘You are behaving like a fury at a feast,’ he said.
Philokles glanced around the crowd and lowered his voice. ‘I have a man in my tent,’ he said. ‘Pelagius, a man of Pantecapaeum. He came north in a boat from the fleet, and he reported things in Olbia from just five days back.’
Kineas nodded.
‘According to Pelagius, Demostrate found the Macedonian squadron thirty days back, caught it on the beach and burned two ships. Then he dispatched messengers to tell us the job was done and went south to the Bosporus to prey on Macedonian shipping.’
Kineas nodded. ‘That’s what he said all along,’ he said.
‘Pelagius arrived in Olbia in a small boat with a handful of crewmen. He intended to find the archon and tell him of developments at sea, but what he saw caused him to take his boat upriver instead.’
‘What did he see?’ Kineas asked.
‘A Macedonian garrison in the citadel,’ Philokles said. ‘That was five days ago. He arrived today and I sat on him.’
Kineas shook his head. ‘Hades. Hades! We’re fucked.’ Kineas felt as if he had been kicked by a stallion — he was having trouble breathing. ‘Hades, Philokles — is he sure?’
‘Sure enough to come pelting upriver to us without putting in.’
‘If Demostrate burned the Macedonian triremes, how in Hades did it happen?’ Kineas smacked a fist into his palm. All his plans were rising away, like the smoke of an altar fire in a breeze.
‘I can only speculate. A merchantman with a hold crammed with soldiers? And the archon in it to the hilt?’ Philokles shook his head angrily. ‘I don’t know.’
Kineas hung his head. ‘Ares’ balls. Our asses are going to be in the air. We need to know what’s happening.’ He looked back at the crowd by the fire. Men were watching him. ‘We can’t hide this. Better if I put it to the officers immediately.’
Philokles pulled on his beard. ‘You know what this may mean? Your men — all your men — may go home. Can you hold them if the archon orders them home?’
‘Is the archon the voice of the city?’ Kineas asked.
Philokles crossed his arms. ‘Memnon is two days away with the hoplites.’
Kineas nodded. ‘So we have the assembly here.’
Philokles took his arm. ‘You expected this.’
Kineas was looking out into the dark, thinking of the king and his image of a boat swept down the river. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I expected betrayal from the archon.’ He made a motion as if throwing a handful of dice on the ground. ‘The game is well underway, my friend. Too late to walk away and save our cloaks.’
Philokles laughed bitterly. ‘It seems to me that in one throw, the archon has already triumphed,’ he said. ‘He has the city.’
Nicomedes obviously felt the same when he was told an hour later. His ruddy face went white in the firelight. Leucon was similar, except that he cried out, ‘My father!’ Eumenes became silent, his jaw set. All of the Olbians were moved. Some wept.
Kineas stood on the tongue of a wagon. He had taken the time to go to Philokles’ camp and hear the sailor speak. The man was a gentleman, a citizen of Pantecapaeum, a veteran trader who knew the coast and knew the politics. His account was reliable. When Kineas left the man he ordered Niceas to gather all the men of Olbia in the camp. And he sent Philokles to tell the king.
Nicomedes shook his head. He stood just below Kineas and when he spoke, his voice carried. ‘We left men as a precaution against something like this. Is there any news?’ His voice cracked from emotion. ‘Has the archon ordered us home?’
Kineas spoke loudly into the crowd of men around his wagon. ‘This war was voted by the assembly of the citizens of Olbia,’ he said. ‘The archon and his — extraordinary powers were voted by the assembly of the citizens of Olbia.’ He paused, and received silence, the best accolade of any assembly of Greek men. ‘In two days, the hoplites will be here. I propose that we then hold an assembly of the city — here in camp. Perhaps we will choose to agree with the action that the archon has taken. Or perhaps,’ he made his voice loud, and hard, a trick of rhetoric and one of command, ‘perhaps we will find that the archon has betrayed the city.’
‘The archon holds the city,’ Leucon said. His voice was flat.
Kineas had no response to that. He dismissed them to go to bed. They moved off, grumbling.
Philokles stood by his shoulder when they were gone. ‘You are a surprising man, Kineas. I think perhaps you would have been a dangerous opponent in the law courts, if you had not taken to the cavalry. You will argue that the army, and not the archon, is the voice of Olbia?’