The Pillars of Hercules

by David Constantine

  “Here you go,” he said.

  Eurydice glanced at it. “I had in mind the real one,” she said.

  “Precisely what this is. See, those are the Pillars, these are the Fortunate Islands, and then west of that is—”

  “Bullshit,” snapped Eurydice. “I said I want the real one.”

  “I’m the Librarian,” snarled the man. “Think that I don’t know what the real one is?”

  “Of course you do,” said Eurydice. “And we know you’re sworn to protect it. And we both know that what we’re looking for is only half a map, so how about you cough it up?”

  The man’s face had gone pale as his beard. “I’m not sure I understand,” he said.

  “But you do,” said Eurydice. “You only have half the map. I’ve got the other half.”

  “You lie, whore.”

  “I’m not a woman for hire and I’m not lying,” said Eurydice. “A Persian noblewoman named Barsine recovered the lost half of your map in the labyrinth beneath the ziggurat of Babylon, to whose priests the thief who stole it from you had bequeathed it when he was dying of plague.”

  “An interesting story,” said the Librarian. “But I’m not sure I can—”

  “Sure you can,” said Eurydice.

  And with that, she knocked the old man onto the floor and proceeded to start beating the truth out of him. It was painful to watch. Lugorix felt he should stop her, but it wasn’t like he had an alternative way to get the information. Several more choice blows, and the beating was over—and the old man was dragging himself over to one of the tables, where he reached up and pulled a hidden catch—pulled out the contents of the hidden space within.

  “Thanks,” said Eurydice, taking the proffered piece of parchment. As she did so, Lugorix heard shouting, echoing through the door they’d just come through. Someone had found the dead tiger. His eyes met those of Matthias, who nocked an arrow.

  “How do we leave this place?” Eurydice asked the Librarian. He said nothing—but glanced at one of the tapesteries. Eurydice pulled that tapestry aside to reveal a flight of stairs leading upward. “The back way,” she said.

  “So why didn’t we go in that way as well?” said Lugorix. “We could have avoided that damn tiger.”

  “Because I didn’t know this way existed,” said Eurydice. She picked up another map, one that showed an outline of the palace. “But I do now.”

  Then she took out a dagger and slashed the Librarian’s throat.

  “Did you have to do that?” asked Matthias as the man bled out.

  “Otherwise they’ll know what we took,” she said—and led the way up the stairs. They were cramped and winding, but Lugorix didn’t care: at least they were returning to the surface. The shouting behind them faded a little, drowned out by something else. Something that was echoing from up above, a hollow rhythmic thumping that seemed to somehow reverberate through the walls. Lugorix and Matthias looked at each other.

  “Sounds like drumming,” said Matthias.

  Lugorix nodded. The noise sounded akin to the booming noise made by an oarmaster as he beat out the rhythm for a galley. Only it was far louder. Especially when they opened the door at the top of the stairs and came out into a corridor. Lugorix shut the stairway door behind them, noticed that it was concealed from this side. He glanced at Eurydice.

  “Which way?” he said.

  “There,” said Eurydice, gesturing to the left. “Back to the ships.”

  But Matthias shook his head. “I want to see what that drumming is,” he said.

  “I don’t think you really do,” said Eurydice.

  Lugorix knew that she was probably right. But he also knew that Matthias wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Because really, all of them knew exactly what that drumming was all about.

  Especially now that it was punctuated by a shrill screaming.

  “Fuck this,” said Matthias. He raced down the corridor, toward the screaming, and it was all Lugorix could do to keep up. Eurydice ran after them, yelling at them to stop being idiots. But it was way too late for that. The screaming subsided as Matthias and Lugorix rounded a corner into a section of the corridor whose walls were lined with arrow-slits. Each of those slits was glowing with a strange light. Lugorix peered out one of them.

  And wished he hadn’t.

  He was looking out at one of the citadel’s many courtyards. Only this was no ordinary courtyard. A vast metal idol with jagged teeth and green eyes dominated half of it. Flames licked up from a pit in front of that idol. Carthaginian soldiers stood at attention while priests dragged a struggling Athenian toward that pit. Lugorix caught a glimpse of Hasdrubal and Perdiccas watching the spectacle from a private box set over the courtyard. Hasdrubal had the expression of a man about to blow his load. Perdiccas’ face was grim. But he said nothing—rendered no protest as the priests reached the edge and pushed the Athenian in. Screams filled the air once more. The odor of burning flesh assailed Lugorix’s nostrils. Matthias turned from the window as Eurydice came running up.

  “They’re barbarians,” was all she said.

  “No man should have to die that way,” said Lugorix.

  “Not if we have anything to say about it,” muttered Matthias.

  Eurydice looked at him, realization slowly dawning on her face. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Not a suggestion,” said Lugorix. “We’re going to free the prisoners.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” said Eurydice.

  “Nothing’s good about letting my countrymen roast to death.” Matthias’ face was quivering with rage. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand by and let that happen.”

  “You’ve got to be reasonable,” said Eurydice.

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “Because we’ve got the key to the lost treasures of the ancients here,” snarled Eurydice. “Which may be the only thing standing between Alexander and his conquest of the entire fucking world. So how about you get a grip on yourself and get a sense of proportion before we lose—” She broke off as more screaming filled the air. Another Athenian had been hurled into the pit. Matthias whirled to face Eurydice.

  “We either do this or we’re not coming,” he said.

  “This will be the death of us,” said Eurydice quietly.

  “So be it,” replied Lugorix. “Now show us the way.”

  Eurydice nodded. She consulted her map, then turned and led them back along the corridor, past the concealed door and back the other way. Lugorix was all too conscious of just how conspicuous they were, given that they were out of the secret warrens and into the main concourses of the citadel. And unlike back at the palace of Agathocles, they weren’t in disguise. Sooner or later they were going to run into somebody.

  It turned out to be sooner. They weren’t even out of the corridor when the concealed door from the library popped open and a squad of soldiers came through—along with several dogs who immediately started howling when they saw the three intruders whose scent they’d been pursuing. The soldiers began yelling in Phoenician as they released the dogs. Lugorix led the way around a corner, threw open a door as Matthias unslung his bow. As Eurydice rushed past him, Matthias fired an arrow into the mouth of the first dog just as it came round the corner. Then he slammed the door and threw the bar.

  Lugorix looked around, was relieved to see this wasn’t a dead-end, that there were two exits. The room itself was filled with what looked to be supplies for the nearby temple: wood, coal, rope, vats of oil and pitch. There were a series of thumps as the remaining dogs hurled themselves against the door—followed by the unmistakable sound of soldiers breaking the door down. Pieces of wood flew across the room as the door started to bulge inward.

  “That way,” said Eurydice, pointing to the leftmost of the exits. “Takes us back to the harbor.”

  “And the prisoners?” said Matthias.

  “I’ll show you where we can do a detour.” The hammering intensified. “Now can we please leave?”


  “First we’re going to delay these pricks,” said Matthias. He grabbed some of the rope—turned to Lugorix, but the Gaul was already on it, turning over the nearest vat of pitch and spilling it across the floor. As he did so, he heard a clicking next to his ear. Eurydice had taken out a tinderbox and was striking iron onto flint, setting fire to the map of the palace.

  “Don’t we need that?” he asked.

  “Already memorized it.”

  Lugorix nodded—picked up a second barrel of pitch and began pouring it out behind them as they got the hell out of there. Twenty yards along the new corridor, and Eurydice tossed the burning scroll onto the trail of oil. A tongue of flame hissed away down the corridor as they all started running—and came into a kitchen filled with servants preparing food, all of whom fled screaming as the two mercenaries looked around.

  “Get down,” said Eurydice.

  They hurled themselves onto the floor just as a huge explosion blew down the corridor. Pieces of cutlery and food were flung through the air. More explosions followed, punctuated by screaming.

  “That’ll buy us some time,” said a soot-covered Matthias as they staggered to their feet and out of the kitchen. Eurydice proceeded to lead them through a series of passages that apparently were earmarked for the palace servants; Lugorix got glimpses of the harbor out the occasional window. They were getting closer.

  “Where’s this damn detour?” said Matthias.

  “Right there,” replied Eurydice—pointing at the wall. Matthias knelt, began groping for its edges or handles. But then Lugorix shoved him aside.

  “Allow me,” he said, swinging Skullseeker down onto the door, crumpling it inward. He drew back his boot, kicked in what was left. Then ducked to enter a low-roofed corridor.

  “That way,” said Eurydice, gesturing to one end where a flight of stairs led up into darkness. The three of them set off, rapidly finding themselves back in the same kind of passages through which they’d originally entered the citadel.

  Only now they were much noisier. Shouts echoed along them. Someone was putting the prisoners in lockdown. It wasn’t hard to guess the reason why. Lugorix and Matthias charged round a corner to find two Carthaginian soldiers looking down on the mass of Athenian prisoners, darts at the ready. Their backs were to the three who’d just arrived.

  “Hi there,” said Eurydice.

  The men whirled round—just as Matthias and Lugorix proceeded to shove them hard—they reeled backward, lost their footing, tumbled into the room below. An enormous cheer went up from the Athenians, who swarmed the two hapless soldiers—punching, kicking and rending. That was when Carthaginians on the other platforms started hurling darts.

  “Let’s get them,” said Eurydice. She and Lugorix sprinted away down the corridor while Matthias opened up on the Carthaginians. He was considerably outnumbered—until Lugorix and Eurydice hit each of the other platforms in rapid succession. The only one who saw it coming was the last Carthaginian, but Matthias shot him even as he was about to hurl a dart at the oncoming Eurydice. Matthias then dropped the rope down to the Athenians. Men wielding the Carthaginans’ weapons began clambering up while Lugorix dashed back round to join them. By the time he got there, those prisoners had already poured down the stairs and were flinging open the room’s main doors from the other side. Lugorix got a quick glimpse of the Carthaginian guards who’d stood watch there—and who were now in the final throes of being butchered—and then that view was obscured by the hordes of cheering Athenians who charged out into the corridors outside. Lugorix, Matthias and Eurydice looked down at the chaos.

  “Happy now?” said Eurydice.

  “Ecstatic,” said Matthias.

  “Let’s go,” said Lugorix.

  This time there were no objections. They headed away from the prison-warehouse, past the gardens, back toward the harbor. From the looks of the view out the apertures and windows, most of the Athenians were concentrating on setting fire to the palace. Lugorix was glad he and Matthias hadn’t been appointed the ringleaders of the whole enterprise—and even more glad that Matthias hadn’t started giving orders. Holing up in the citadel of Carthage seemed like a really shitty idea. Getting back to the ship was clearly the way to go.

  Though some of the Athenians seemed to realize their rescuers had a plan. More than a hundred prisoners were following them down the covert corridors, past the garden-rooms and down the stairs toward the harbor. Lugorix considered telling them to find their own way out, but he figured Matthias would have a problem with that. Which still left a bit of a dilemma.

  “There’s not room for them all on our ship,” he muttered.

  “There’s not room for any of them,” said Eurydice. “But there are a lot of ships.”

  He had a point. The Athenians poured into the room with the murder-holes and set to work with alacrity, dropping ropes down those holes and onto the decks of the ships below. Those ships weren’t taken completely by surprise—they were already on alert thanks to the alarms sounding throughout the palace, and were frantically prepping for action. But they were ready to defend the harbor from a naval threat, not from furious former prisoners suddenly falling onto them from above. A ferocious battle developed, as Carthaginian marines rallied against the rain of Athenians, some of whom were literally leaping down to the decks below. In moments, the scene was one of total pandemonium.

  “That’ll buy us some cover,” said Eurydice.

  Matthias said nothing—just sprang to the ladder against the wall, began climbing down to the jetty where the Xerxes was moored.

  Only it wasn’t moored there any longer.

  The sluice-gate beneath which the Xerxes had snuck in had just been stoved in by a ram—and the Carthaginian warship that had done so was backing water, towering over the three who stood on that jetty looking up at it. It was a pentereme—five banks of oars, two masts, and a horde of marines lining the deck. But none of that was as problematic as the man who was standing on the prow: Perdiccas himself. He was flanked by both Macedonian and Carthaginian soldiers, and he looked more than a little surprised as he caught sight of Eurydice, who he obviously recognized.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” he yelled.

  “Go fuck yourself!” yelled Eurydice. Lugorix would have thought that someone as smart as she was could have come up with a better insult than that, but then again, she was under pressure. They all were now, as Carthaginian archers crowded alongside Perdiccas and took aim at the three who stood on the jetty beneath them.

  “Give yourself up,” said Perdiccas.

  Lugorix hefted his axe, looked the Macedonian general straight in the eye.

  “Come and get us,” he said.

  “Kill the men and bring me the woman,” said Perdiccas. The archers drew back their bows—only to suddenly be knocked to the deck as another Carthaginian warship rammed the pentereme hard amidship. It had emerged from the roofed harbor where the pitched battle was raging between the prisoners. At least one of those ships was now under the control of the Athenians—and that ship now backed water in an attempt to vacate the hole it had just created and flood the holds of the pentereme.

  But it was stuck.

  Either it had embedded itself too deep or there simply weren’t enough rowers at the oars to provide the necessary leverage. The pentereme was clearly taking on water, though, slowly sliding to the side, putting ever more strain on the ship that had impaled it.

  Not that anyone was waiting around for it to sink. Carthaginian marines leapt from their own ship, dashing across the prow of their assailant and pouring onto its deck, where they were met with Athenians eager to finally come to grips with their tormentors. In short order, the decks of both ships became a scene of absolute mayhem.

  “This is the part where we make ourselves scarce,” said Eurydice.

  There were no objections. She led them away from the ladder, along the stone jetty, away from both the stricken pentereme and the interior harbor where fighting was still taking pl
ace on several of the ships. They came out from under the roof and found themselves against the wall of the exterior harbor. Lugorix looked back at the carnage going on across the interior harbor, at the smoke pouring from the palace. More ships were sortieing from the adjacent harbors; these ones seemed to be fully armed and prepped and ready to kill some Athenians. There was no point in sticking around.

  “We’re sitting ducks here,” said Matthias.

  Eurydice nodded. She led them through an overflow channel—so narrow and low that once again Lugorix had to crawl, this time through water that sloshed around his hands and knees. He had to wriggle a few times to keep going—and when he emerged he was staring along a promontory that cut along the border of the outer harbor.

  “Time to sprint,” said Eurydice.

  They dashed along the promontory, out into the harbor. The battle that was going on in the interior harbor didn’t seem to be a factor here. Or—more likely—the crews were still in the city. The three fugitives kept on running, though Lugorix could see they only had a few hundred more meters before they ran out of room altogether.

  That was when three ships emerged from the harbor, rowing at full speed, bearing down on them.

  “Shit,” said Lugorix.

  “We’re running out of room,” said Matthias.

  “Run faster!” yelled Eurydice.

  Matthias and Lugorix did so, just as arrows began to sail past them. The ships were vectoring in on their quarry. Lugorix could hear shouting in Phoenician echoing across the water, getting louder. He didn’t want to die with an arrow in his back—Taranis would never let him past the gates of death. And being speared in the water would be an even more shameful ending. Meaning he’d have to turn and dare them to come to him. That was the only way he was going to get a clean death. Ahead of him, Matthias reached the end of the promontory and dove in. Eurydice followed suit.

  Just as the Xerxes surfaced.

  The ship broke water barely ten yards past the promontory—Matthias had already covered half the distance to it, with Eurydice not that far behind. But just as Lugorix was about to dive in after them—