The beast in the labyrin.., p.20
The Beast in the Labyrinth, page 20
When Agbal retuned, it was to tell me that my mother had left the city for the estate at Acrae. She had already sent ahead a dozen newly purchased slaves, under the escort of some of her Galatians.
How typical of her, I thought, to have turned a promise to me to her own advantage. She must have left as soon as she got wind that the Carthaginians had landed at Pachynus. While everyone else was trying to get into Syracuse, she had immediately understood that it would be far safer to get out. I guessed she would not return until it became clear there was no real threat to the city. But at least, I told myself, she wouldn’t be able to get up to any mischief while she was at Acrae, and her absence would give me time to make my preparations for my coming confrontation with her.
With nothing in the apartment to distract me from my own thoughts, I decided to head off to the exercise yard to watch the afternoon drills.
When I got there, the space was already bustling with men. Most were sparring with wooden swords; others were practising their javelin throw against a row of straw targets. Officers shouted encouragement and sergeants shouted abuse. There could be no doubting that the City Guard was gradually coalescing into a proud and fierce family.
One company stood apart from the others, by the stable block gates. They wore their breastplates and greaves but no helmets: they were clearly about to go on a run. Running in armour in the afternoon sun, even without helmets, is little short of torture and it was a widely resented exercise, but one upon which I insisted. One of the first lessons Lepides had drummed into his officers was that, in war, speed is almost always of greater importance than numbers.
I find that vigorous exercise helps me think through my problems and so, on an impulse, I sent a soldier to my rooms to collect my own armour from my slaves. As I stood in the yard strapping on my breastplate, I noticed that several of the men practising their swordplay were grinning to each other, while those by the gates were staring at me miserably. There would be no slacking of the pace today. I smiled grimly back at them.
The new lieutenant of the men on whom I was about to inflict my company was the eager young officer Leander. He, at least, greeted me with his usual enthusiasm. He had already outswum me, and without armour he could probably have outrun me too; but over a distance and carrying the extra weight, we both knew it was an altogether different matter.
“Another wager perhaps, Lieutenant?” I asked as I approached him.
“And have you judge me a fool, sir?” he replied with a grin.
Our usual run was halfway to Plymmerium and back, a round trip of about five miles, but the refugees fleeing the Carthaginians at Pachynus made that impossible. They had begun arriving the previous night, in ever-increasing numbers. As they were not being admitted to the city, the south gate was now completely blocked by the human mudslide piling up against our walls.
I chose to leave by the much smaller and less-used west gate instead, which lay in the shadow of the citadel of Euryalus. It gave access to a road that wove through our high, barren hinterlands and eventually to Acrae. Once outside, I led the company through the hills at a good trot, with Leander matching the pace beside me. It was a warm day, and so every half hour or so, I called a halt for a few moments to let everyone drink from their flasks.
When we had reached the furthest extent of our run, at the summit of a desolate mound known as Hunchback’s Shoulder, I allowed the men a longer rest. They happily collapsed to the ground. I sat myself on a rock beside Leander, and wiped the sweat from my face. Some miles away, the indifferent sea stretched out before us. I scanned the horizon eagerly, but the fleet was already out of sight.
One day, when I was seven, my father finally gave in to my incessant pleading and took me down to the shore to gawp at The Syracusia, the largest ship ever built. Archimedes had designed it, but the project was beyond the capabilities of our own boatyards, so Hieron had commissioned the Corinthians to construct it for him. It had just made its maiden voyage to Syracuse and was lying at anchor a little way out, in the middle of the Great Harbour.
“Isn’t she wonderful, Father?” I said eagerly.
“No, son, she isn’t,” he had snorted. “She’s useless. She’s too big for any of our docks and they say she’s almost impossible to handle. This is what comes of giving someone like your great-uncle his head. Only a very clever man could have been so stupid. But if our king wants to waste his money indulging his own vanity, I suppose that’s his affair.”
To me, The Syracusia had still looked wonderful, a gigantic, lazy turtle, oblivious to the shoal of minnows darting about around it. I have been entranced by the miracle of ships ever since.
I remained lost in my own memories until Leander lifted his arm to point to a distant ridge to the south.
“Who do you think they are, sir?” he asked.
I squinted in the direction he was indicating but could at first see nothing. Then a movement caught my eye, and a small plume of dust appeared, signalling horses on the trot.
They were far from any road and few people lived up in these hills. The soil was thin and stony, and as unsuitable for farming as it was for riding.
“How many of them are there, do you think?” I asked.
“I’d say maybe a dozen,” Leander replied. His sight was clearly better than mine.
I scratched my cheek, feeling the scar. Whoever they were, they were heading inland.
No bandits would have dared venture this close to the city, and even if they had, we would have been alerted to their arrival by the long trail of looted farmhouses and dead families that they always leave in their wake.
“I imagine it’s just a cavalry patrol from Plymmerium,” I told Leander casually.
With the other two captains at sea, and Prince Gelon in Rome, Sosis would be the ranking officer at Plymmerium. My former adjutant knew his business and would have sent out scouting parties, just in case the Carthaginians really had landed in strength at Pachynus and were marching on us even now. It would certainly have occurred to Sosis that an advancing army might try to find an inland passage through the hills, in order to bypass any force that we may have sent down the coastal road to block them. Dispatching riders to scour the remote countryside was a sensible precaution.
Even so, there was something about that distant puff of dust that didn’t seem right. I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“That’s a long enough rest. Let’s head back,” I announced, provoking a chorus of ill-suppressed groans.
*
Leander tired noticeably on the return journey. Running downhill is harder on the legs than running uphill. He managed to keep ahead of his men, but towards the end I decided to slow the pace a little, so as not to show him up too badly.
It was not until we were inside the city walls again and the men were staggering back towards the palace that I suddenly understood what had been troubling me about the riders in the hills. It was not what I had seen, but what I hadn’t seen. Our own cavalry wore simple armour, and even at that distance we should have been able to spot the glint of their breastplates in the sun. But there had been only dust.
When we got back to the barracks, I dismissed the company and turned to Leander.
“I’m afraid your day isn’t over yet, Lieutenant,” I told him. “Get yourself cleaned up and come to my rooms in half an hour. I have an errand for you.”
I returned to my apartment and immediately settled myself at my table to compose a letter. I knew I was tired and probably overreacting, but then, no city was ever lost because its defenders were too circumspect.
The sun was already low in the sky when Leander came to my door. Alpha and Omega immediately started cooing over him excitedly. No doubt he received a lot of that sort of attention: he must have been one of the best looking young men in Syracuse. I dismissed the two slaves irritably.
When they had left the room, I handed Leander my letter.
“Take the barge to Plymmerium,” I told him. “Find Captain Sosis and put this in his hands. Answer any questions he may have of you, then bring me back his reply without delay.”
I washed, changed and ate while I waited for Leander to get back, but it was not until the moon had fully risen that he returned, his eyes now dark with exhaustion. He handed me Sosis’s reply, which was sealed with the insignia of the Gold Shields.
My dear Dion, it read,
I did send patrols into the hills yesterday morning, but they should be well inland by now, so the men you saw are unlikely to have been our own. I agree we cannot exclude the possibility that they may have been Carthaginian scouts. If that is the explanation, then their presence would certainly suggest that a large force might be advancing on us, although as yet I have had no intelligence to this effect. We must also assume that any scouting party would have seen the fleet sail and would know that our own strength is significantly depleted.
As you requested, I have sent out trackers to try to pick up the trail of the men you saw, and have dispatched additional cavalry patrols to the south and west. On my own initiative, I have also sent a message to Prince Hieronymus, advising him to halt his march until we know it is safe for him to continue. If this all turns out to be nothing, then nothing will be lost by delaying him.
I will take your advice and ensure that our remaining troops at Plymmerium are ready to withdraw into the city at short notice, should the need arise. We have ten companies of the Gold Shields still here, as well as three companies of the White Shields. It goes without saying that, in the general’s absence, I would be happy to combine our forces under your command.
If we are assaulted in strength at Plymmerium, my assessment is that we could hold the camp for two or three days at most.
Sosis.
“Leander, you are to tell no one where you have been,” I said. “Now, get yourself to bed. I shall see you in the morning.” I didn’t show him the letter.
When he had gone, I lay on one of my plush gilt couches for a little while, thinking things through. Finally, I let myself out of the apartment, went downstairs, and crossed the great courtyard to the plain wooden gate in the far corner. The narrow shutter slid open at my knock and I found a suspicious pair of eyes staring back at me in the moonlight.
“It’s Captain Dion,” I said. “I wish to see the king, if he is still up. If not, I can return in the morning.”
I was admitted without question by a soldier in a black-plumed helmet and invited to wait in the garden. After a few minutes, a slave with a lantern came to fetch me. He led me through maybe half a dozen rooms of steadily diminishing grandeur. It felt as though I was being drawn ever deeper into a gloomy network of caves. The final room was both the smallest and plainest. It contained almost no furniture, apart from a pair of simple wooden stools and a desk, behind which sat the king, working by the light of a lamp. The slave bowed and left and I stood to attention, waiting to be acknowledged.
“Well, Dion?” Hieron croaked finally.
“I am sorry to disturb you at this time of night, Your Majesty, especially as it is probably for nothing.”
“At my age, Dion, I barely sleep anyway. As soon as I lie down, I feel the need to piss. So, what is this nothing of yours?”
I told him about the horsemen, and of the measures Sosis had taken on my advice.
Hieron nodded.
“Very well. I approve your actions. Anything else?” He seemed quite unperturbed.
“My King, I agree this is probably a false alarm, but might it not be wise to bring the troops at Plymmerium into the city anyway? It can do no harm, and it might help to reassure the people until the fleet returns.”
“It could do a great deal of harm, Dion, because it would have precisely the opposite effect. The army has not entered the city for over forty years. If it did, the people would conclude the barbarians were about to fall upon us, and would panic. Have you ever seen a city in the grip of a panic, Captain? I have. The first thing the mob would probably do would be to rampage through the Carthaginian quarter, and I squeeze far too much tax out of all those fat old merchants to want to see them massacred to no good purpose. So I most certainly will not bring the army into the city until we have something rather more conclusive to go on. You are right to be cautious, but the chances are that some other explanation for your horsemen will present itself soon enough. In the meanwhile, you and Sosis will keep your concerns to yourselves. Alright?”
“Yes, my King.” I bowed.
“Good. Now tell me, how did it go with Archimedes today?”
“I understand what is required of me, my King. But I must confess, the morning was not without its surprises.”
“I imagine not,” Hieron replied indifferently. Then he dismissed me with a wave of his hand, and returned to his documents.
*
I was eating breakfast in my room the following morning when I was interrupted by Alpha.
“What is it?” I grunted through a mouthful of egg.
“There is a slave at the door, Master. The king requests that you come to the council chamber immediately.”
“At this time?” The sun had not yet fully cleared the sea. “Very well. Tell the slave I’m on my way. And you’d better fetch me a blue tunic.”
I had assumed the king had called another emergency meeting of his council, but when I arrived, the only two people sitting at the long table were Hieron himself and Thraso, my chubby cousin. Hieron gestured to the guards and the heavy doors closed behind me. It appeared no one else was expected. Thraso had also put on a blue tunic and looked as dishevelled as I must have done. The king, by contrast, appeared quite refreshed. The Carthaginian landing at Pachynus seemed only to have rejuvenated him.
“Have a seat, Dion,” he said, gesturing to the chair next to his. He waited for me to settle myself.
“I wish to discuss the problem of the refugees with you both,” he began without ceremony. “It seems we have three bad choices. We can let them in, we can leave them on the road to rot, or we can drive them away at the point of our spears. The first will exacerbate our own food shortage and risks unrest within the city. The second is liable to result in an outbreak of disease on our doorstep, which could eventually spread to the city itself. And the third is unlikely to work: before long, hunger would bring them all back, and in the meanwhile, the surrounding countryside would probably become lawless. Dion, what are your thoughts?”
I hesitated for a moment before replying.
“My King, I’d say the important thing is to ensure the coastal road is passable. I gather it’s now blocked for several miles by the refugees’ carts. The easiest way to clear it would be to let them in.”
The horsemen I had seen were still playing on my mind. The reason I wanted the road cleared was so that we could bring the troops at Plymmerium into the city at short notice, if the need arose. But having been told to keep my concerns to myself, I didn’t elaborate in front of Thraso.
“And what is your view, Thraso?” the king asked.
My cousin puckered his fleshy lips.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “I also believe you should allow them in. To maintain order, we need to maintain confidence. If the inhabitants of Syracuse see their fellow citizens left on the road to starve or, worse still, driven off by our own troops, it may create the impression of desperation. And, my King, I fear it might also undermine the people’s faith in your benevolence.”
Hieron gazed at Thraso without expression. My cousin gulped and hurriedly looked down at his lap, his face blanching.
The king smiled icily.
“Well now, we can’t have the people doubting my benevolence, can we?” he said. “Very well. We will let them in, but I want this properly managed. Dion, you are to take personal charge of the situation. Once admitted, the refugees are to be directed to the plateau of Epipolae. They can make a camp for themselves up there.”
I nodded.
“You will see to it that the camp is well regulated,” Hieron continued. “The gods punish filthiness, so you will arrange for a sufficient quantity of latrines to be dug and for the disposal of bodies. I want no outbreaks of disease. I want men of the City Guard on duty on Epipolae at all times. Within the camp, martial law will be in force and a strict curfew will be imposed. The refugees are to be confined to Epipolae. The rest of the city will be off limits to them, and the camp will be off limits to everybody else. I’m giving you a free hand to do whatever you think necessary to maintain order, Dion. Spill a little blood, if that’s what it takes. Understand?”
“Yes, my King,” I said.
Hieron turned to my cousin.
“Thraso, you will arrange for the camp to be supplied from the city. I want the refugees to be adequately fed, but not generously so. I do not wish to encourage them to stay any longer than necessary. Have some food stalls erected on Epipolae, add a tax of one tenth to everything they sell, and see to it that there is never quite enough to go round.”
“Yes, my King,” my cousin muttered.
“One more thing occurs to me,” Hieron said thoughtfully. “Many of these refugees will have been stupid enough to bring their slaves with them. We have quite enough people to deal with already, and I dare say things will only get worse over the coming days. The slaves will have to be disposed of. I don’t care how you do it, Thraso. Arrange for them to be sold, if you like, or send them to the quarries. Throw them into the sea, if you prefer.”
Thraso coughed nervously.
