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TYRANT
KING OF THE
BOSPORUS
CHRISTIAN CAMERON
Contents
Also by Christian Cameron
GLOSSARY
311 BC
PART I: THE SMELL OF DEATH
Chapter 1: NORTH EUXINE SEA, AUTUMN, 311 BC
Chapter 2: ALEXANDRIA, AEGYPT, 311 BC
Chapter 3
Chapter 4: ALEXANDRIA, 311 BC
Chapter 5: GRACCUS’S STELE, EUXINE SEA, 311 BC
Chapter 6: PROPONTIS, EARLY WINTER, 311 BC
Chapter 7: NEAR TOMIS, EARLY WINTER, 311 BC
Chapter 8
PART II: LIVING WITH LIONS
Chapter 9: PROPONTIS, WINTER, 311 BC
Chapter 10: TANAIS HIGH GROUND, WINTER, 311–310 BC
Chapter 11: AEGEAN, WINTER, 311–310 BC
Chapter 12: SEA OF GRASS, NORTH OF OLBIA, WINTER, 311–310 BC
Chapter 13
Chapter 14: NORTH OF OLBIA, WINTER, 311–310 BC
Chapter 15: ALEXANDRIA, WINTER, 311–310 BC
PART III: THE EAGLES FLY
Chapter 16: PANTECAPAEUM, LATE WINTER, 310 BC
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
PART IV: TANAIS RIVER
Chapter 21: NORTH EUXINE SEA
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
EPILOGUE
HISTORICAL NOTE
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Copyright
For my daughter, Beatrice
GLOSSARY
Airyanãm (Avestan) Noble, heroic.
Aspis (Classical Greek) A large round shield, deeply dished, commonly carried by Greek (but not Macedonian) hoplites.
Baqca (Siberian) Shaman, mage, dream-shaper.
Chiton (Classical Greek) A garment like a tunic, made from a single piece of fabric folded in half and pinned down the side, then pinned again at the neck and shoulders and belted above the hips. A men’s chiton might be worn long or short. Worn very short, or made of a small piece of cloth, it was sometimes called a ‘chitoniskos’. Our guess is that most chitons were made from a piece of cloth roughly 60 x 90 inches, and then belted or roped to fit, long or short. Pins, pleating, and belting could be simple or elaborate. Most of these garments would, in Greece, have been made of wool. In the East, linen might have been preferred.
Chlamys (Classical Greek) A garment like a cloak, made from a single piece of fabric woven tightly and perhaps even boiled. The chlamys was usually pinned at the neck and worn as a cloak, but could also be thrown over the shoulder and pinned under the right or left arm and worn as a garment. Free men are sometimes shown naked with a chlamys, but rarely shown in a chiton without a chlamys – the chlamys, not the chiton, was the essential garment, or so it appears. Men and women both wear the chlamys, although differently. Again, a 60 x 90 piece of cloth seems to drape correctly and have the right lines and length.
Daimon (Classical Greek) Spirit.
Ephebe (Classical Greek) A new hoplite; a young man just training to join the forces of his city.
Epilektoi (Classical Greek) The chosen men of the city or of the phalanx; elite soldiers.
Eudaimia (Classical Greek) Wellbeing. Literally, ‘well-spirited’. See daimon, above.
Gamelia (Classical Greek) A Greek holiday.
Gorytos (Classical Greek and possibly Scythian) The open-topped quiver carried by the Scythians, often highly decorated.
Himation (Classical Greek) A heavy garment consisting of a single piece of cloth at least 120 inches long by 60 inches wide, draped over the body and one shoulder, worn by both men and women.
Hipparch (Classical Greek) The commander of the cavalry.
Hippeis (Classical Greek) Militarily, the cavalry of a Greek army. Generally, the cavalry class, synonymous with ‘knights’. Usually the richest men in a city.
Hoplite (Classical Greek) A Greek soldier, the heavy infantry who carry an aspis (the big round shield) and fight in the phalanx. They represent the middle class of free men in most cities, and while sometimes they seem like medieval knights in their outlook, they are also like town militia, and made up of craftsmen and small farmers. In the early Classical period, a man with as little as twelve acres under cultivation could be expected to own the aspis and serve as a hoplite.
Hoplomachos (Classical Greek) A man who taught fighting in armour.
Hyperetes (Classical Greek) The Hipparch’s trumpeter, servant, or supporter. Perhaps a sort of NCO.
Kithara (Classical Greek) A musical instrument like a lyre.
Kline (Classical Greek) A couch or bed on which Hellenic men and women took meals and perhaps slept, as well.
Kopis (Classical Greek) A bent bladed knife or sword, rather like a modern Ghurka kukri. They appear commonly in Greek art, and even some small eating knives were apparently made to this pattern.
Machaira (Classical Greek) The heavy Greek cavalry sword, longer and stronger than the short infantry sword. Meant to give a longer reach on horseback, and not useful in the phalanx. The word could also be used for any knife.
Parasang (Classical Greek from Persian) About thirty stades. See below.
Phalanx (Classical Greek) The infantry formation used by Greek hoplites in warfare, eight to ten deep and as wide as circumstance allowed. Greek commanders experimented with deeper and shallower formations, but the phalanx was solid and very difficult to break, presenting the enemy with a veritable wall of spear points and shields, whether the Macedonian style with pikes or the Greek style with spears. Also, phalanx can refer to the body of fighting men. A Macedonian phalanx was deeper, with longer spears called sarissas that we assume to be like the pikes used in more recent times. Members of a phalanx, especially a Macedonian phalanx, are sometimes called Phalangites.
Phylarch (Classical Greek) The commander of one file of hoplites. Could be as many as sixteen men.
Porne (Classical Greek) A prostitute.
Pous (Classical Greek) About one foot.
Prodromoi (Classical Greek) Scouts; those who run before or run first.
Psiloi (Classical Greek) Light infantry skirmishers, usually men with bows and slings, or perhaps javelins, or even thrown rocks. In Greek city-state warfare, the psiloi were supplied by the poorest free men, those who could not afford the financial burden of hoplite armour and daily training in the gymnasium.
Sastar (Avestan) Tyrannical. A tyrant.
Stade (Classical Greek) About 1/8 of a mile. The distance run in a ‘stadium’. 178 meters. Sometimes written as Stadia or Stades by me. Thirty Stadia make a Parasang.
Taxies (Classical Greek) The sections of a Macedonian phalanx. Can refer to any group, but often used as a ‘company’ or a ‘battalion’. My taxeis has between 500 and 2,000 men, depending on losses and detachments. Roughly synonymous with phalanx above, although a phalanx may be composed of a dozen taxeis in a great battle.
Xiphos (Classical Greek) A straight-bladed infantry sword, usually carried by hoplites or psiloi. Classical Greek art, especially red-figure ware, shows many hoplites wearing them, but only a handful have been recovered and there’s much debate about the shape and use. They seem very like a Roman gladius.
311 BC
Eumeles sat at a plain table on
a stool made of forged iron, his long back as straight as the legs on his stool and his stylus moving quickly over a clean tablet. He pursed his lips when he inscribed a sloppy sigma in the red wax, and he rubbed it out fastidiously and went back to writing his list of requirements.
Most of his requirements had to do with money.
‘The farmers are not used to a direct tax,’ Idomenes, his secretary, said.
Eumeles glared at him. ‘They’d best get used to it. This fleet is costing me everything in the treasury.’
Idomenes was afraid of his master, but he set his hip as if he was wrestling. ‘Many won’t pay.’
‘Put soldiers to collecting,’ Eumeles said.
‘Men will call you a tyrant.’
‘Men already call me a tyrant. I am a tyrant. I need that money. See that it is collected. These small farmers need some of the independence crushed out of them. We would grow more grain if we pushed out the Maeotae and used big estates – like Aegypt.’
Idomenes shrugged. ‘Traditionally, my lord, we have taxed the grain as it went on the ships.’
‘I did that, as you well know. That money was spent immediately. I need more.’ Eumeles looked up from his tablet. ‘I’ve really had enough of this. Simply obey.’
Idomenes shrugged. ‘As you wish, lord. But there will be trouble.’ The secretary opened the bag at his hip and withdrew a pair of scrolls tied with cord and sealed with wax. ‘The reports from Alexandria. Do you want them today?’
Eumeles pursed his lips again. ‘Read them and give me a precis. Neither of our people there ever seems to report anything I can use. I sometimes wonder if Stratokles didn’t recruit mere gossips.’
Idomenes cracked the wax, unwound the cord and rolled his eyes. ‘Cheap papyrus!’ he commented angrily, as the scroll fragmented under his fingers into long, narrow strips.
Eumeles grunted. He went back to his lists – headed by his need to hire competent helmsmen to man his new fleet. He needed a fleet to complete the conquest of the Euxine – a set of conquests that would soon leave the easy pickings behind and start on the naval powers, like Heraklea and Sinope, across the sea. And the west coast, which would bring him into conflict with Lysimachos. He feared the wily Macedonian, but Eumeles was himself part of a larger alliance, with Antigonus One-Eye and his son Demetrios. His new fleet had been built with subsidies from One-Eye. And the man expected results.
‘Ooi!’ Idomenes shouted, leaping to his feet. ‘The woman actually has something of value. Goodness – the gods smile on us! Listen: “After the feast of Apollo, Leon the merchant summoned his captains and announced to them that he planned to use his fleet to topple Eumeles, with the approval of the lord of Aegypt. He further announced that he would finance a taxeis of Macedonians and a squadron of mercenary warships.” Blah, blah – she names every man at the meeting. Goodness, my lord, she’s quite the worthy agent. There’s a note in the margin – “Diodorus . . .” That name means something? “. . . has the Exiles . . . with Seleucus”?’
Eumeles nodded. He found his fists were clenched. ‘Diodorus is the most dangerous of the lot. Damn it! I thought Stratokles was going to rid me of these impudent brats and their wealthy supporters. It’s like a plague of head lice defeating Achilles. Hardly worthy opponents. So – they’re coming?’
Idomenes checked the scroll, running his fingers down the papyrus. ‘Ares, Lord of War – they may already have sailed!’
‘Why haven’t we read this scroll before?’ Eumeles asked.
‘I see – no – they’ll sail next week. He’s buying a squadron of mercenary captains – Ptolemy’s offcasts.’ Idomenes smiled.
‘Ptolemy will never win this war if he keeps shedding his soldiers as soon as he wins a victory,’ Eumeles commented. ‘He’s the richest contender. Why doesn’t he keep his fleet together?’
Idomenes considered telling his master the truth – that Ptolemy was rich because he didn’t overspend on military waste. But he kept reading. ‘This is their scout. They’re coming before the autumn rains – to raise the coastal cities against you and sink your fleet. The army will come in the spring.’
Eumeles got to his feet and smiled. He was very tall and too thin, almost cadaverous, and his smile was cold. ‘A scout? How nice. Kineas the strategos used to say that if you wanted something done well, you had to do it yourself. Send for Telemon.’
Telemon was one of the tyrant’s senior captains. Idomenes passed the time reading aloud the list of ships from the marginal notes and their captains. ‘Satyrus will command Black Falcon.’
‘Some professional helmsman will command. He’s just a boy. Well, may he enjoy the adventure, for he won’t survive it,’ Eumeles said. He called a slave and ordered that his armour be packed for sea.
Telemon swaggered in, announced by another slave. He was a tall man with ruddy cheeks and fair hair.
‘You took your time,’ Eumeles said.
Telemon shrugged. When he spoke, his voice was curiously high-pitched, like a temple singer – or a god in a machine. ‘I’m here,’ he said.
‘Cancel the expedition to Heraklea,’ Eumeles said. ‘Get the fleet ready to sail south.’
‘We’re ready now,’ Telemon intoned. His voice implied that his master wasn’t very bright.
‘Good.’ Eumeles ignored other men’s tones, or had never understood them. Idomenes wondered if his master’s ignorance of other men’s feelings towards him was the secret of his power. He didn’t seem to care that he was ugly, ungainly, single-minded, unsocial and unloved. He cared only for the exercise of power. ‘They’ll come up the west coast. We’ll await them west of Olbia, so that they don’t raise the malcontents in that city.’ The tyrant turned to Idomenes. ‘Contact our people in Olbia and tell them that it is time to be rid of our opponents there.’
‘The assembly?’ Idomenes asked.
‘Simple murder, I think. Get rid of that old lack-wit Lykeles. People associate him too much with Kineas. As if Kineas was such a great king. Pshaw. The fool. Anyway, rid us of Lykeles, Petrocolus and his son, Cliomenedes. Especially the son.’
Idomenes looked at his master as if he’d lost his mind. ‘Our hand will show,’ he said. ‘That city is already close to open war with us.’
‘That city can be treated as a conquered province,’ Eumeles said. ‘Kill the opposition. The assembly will fear us.’
‘Kill them and some new leader might arise,’ Idomenes said firmly. ‘What if a knife miscarries? Then we have one of them screaming for your head.’
‘When Satyrus’s head leaves his body, all the fight will go out of the cities. And we own the Sakje – Olbia needs their grain. Stop fighting shadows and obey me.’ Eumeles gave his cold smile. ‘What you really mean is that I’m about to go beyond the law – even the law of tyrants. And you don’t like it. Tough. You are welcome to board a ship and sail back to Halicarnassus whenever you wish.’
Once again, Idomenes was amazed at how his master cared nothing for the feelings of other men, and yet could read them like scrolls.
‘And you got me out of my slave’s open legs for a reason?’ Telemon sang.
‘Spare me,’ Eumeles said. He didn’t even like to listen to bawdy songs, his secretary reflected. ‘Await my pleasure.’
Telemon turned on his heel.
‘Isn’t it enough for you that my enemy is about to put his head on the block?’ Eumeles called, ‘And that after he goes down, I will release you and your wolves to burn the seaboard?’
Telemon stopped. He turned back. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, that is news indeed, lord.’ He grinned. ‘What ship will your enemy be in?’
Idomenes was always happy to have information to share. ‘Black Falcon, Navarch,’ he said.
‘Black Falcon,’ Telemon sang. ‘Stratokles’ ship. I’ll know him,’ he said.
PART I
THE SMELL OF DEATH
NORTH EUXINE SEA, AUTUMN, 311 BC
Satyrus leaned against the rail of the Black Falcon and watche
d his uncle, Leon the Numidian, arguing with his helmsman, just a boat’s length away. Satyrus waited, looking for a signal, a wave, an invitation – anything to suggest that his uncle had a plan.
Next to him, on his own deck, Abraham Ben Zion shook his head.
‘Where did a pissant tyrant like Eumeles get so many ships?’
Satyrus didn’t turn his head. He was still waiting for the signal. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. His dreams of being king of the Bosporus this autumn were fading rapidly, rowed into froth by the sixty or seventy triremes that Eumeles of Pantecapaeum, his mother’s murderer, had somehow mustered.
Leon had stopped talking to his helmsman. He came to his rail and put his hands to his mouth. ‘Lay alongside me!’ he called.
Satyrus turned and nodded to his own helmsman, Diokles, a burly man whose curling dark hair showed more Phoenician than Greek.
‘Alongside the Lotus,’ Satyrus said.
Diokles nodded. ‘Alongside it is, sir.’
Satyrus owned only one ship, and that by the laws of war. The year before, he had taken the Black Falcon in a sea fight off the coast of the Levant in a rising storm. Falcon was lighter and smaller and far less robust than Leon’s Golden Lotus or the other four triemioliai of Leon’s squadron – all his own ships, for Leon the Numidian was one of the richest men in Alexandria, one of the richest cities on the curve of the world.
Tyrant: King of the Bosporus Page 1