by Clare Smith
“He lied,” snapped Sissinia. “The harpy has beguiled him.”
“Yes, I thought so too, which is why I have set him to visiting each of Delphi’s temples.”
Sissinia scowled; it was unlike the High Priestess to be so forgiving. “That is a minor penance for such deceit.”
“That is no penance at all, it’s just to delay him until I send someone else to ensure the girl no longer lives, and if it is that Pellecus has played me false, then he shall die too.”
That brought a smile to Sissinia’s face. “Justice will be served and the goddess will smile upon us, but the man you send to carry out your wishes must have a heart of stone which cannot be melted by the girl’s charms.”
“It is not difficult to find men like that and, by happy chance, there is one who has come to seek the Oracle’s wisdom. He is a wealthy man so the Oracle will ensure that he stays here long enough to be generous with his gold. All we have to do is provide the Oracle with a sufficient incentive and she will have him do our task for us.”
“You would bribe the Oracle?” asked Sissinia in surprise.
“No, but like others before me, I would make an offering to Apollo in return for the Oracle’s favour.”
Sissinia laughed and understood why her mistress was the youngest woman ever to become the High Priestess to Athena.
*
Pellecus stared into his pot of watered wine and wondered what he was doing there. Since before he could walk he’d been taught to honour the gods and, throughout his youth, when he’d lived and trained with the other boys, he’d prayed to the gods of Sparta to give him strength and courage in battle. When he’d become an officer and was allowed possessions of his own, he’d given what he could afford to the temples in offering, and had even paid to have the boar of Ares embossed on his shield.
He’d always revered the gods and sought their favour, but what had happened in the last few days had made him seriously doubt everything he’d believed in. Delphi was meant to be one of the religious centres of the city and island states which made up the Peloponnese, but to his mind it was little better than a market place where unscrupulous traders tried to wheedle every coin from your purse. It wasn’t only the traders who sold overpriced votive offerings who were greedy, but the priests themselves, who turned their noses up and withheld the god’s blessings if an offering was too small.
Perhaps those people who said that Spartans were so intent on martial prowess and so insular that they were naïve, were right. It certainly seemed to him that every other kingdom and state had become more worldly and had truly left Sparta behind. He certainly felt naive and out of his depth here, where those who had come to worship the gods wore the latest fashion and paraded their wealth for all to see.
In a place where peace was sacrosanct, there were even those who had armed retinues with them, and whilst no one openly wore steel, it was easy enough to spot the weapons they kept concealed beneath tunics and cloaks. The guards stood outside the temples making sure their masters weren’t disturbed, and then strutted around Delphi as if they owned the place. With so much wealth and power around, it was not surprising he’d been turned away from some of the temples in favour of those who had more influence.
Only that morning his third attempt to make an offering to Apollo had been rejected, as preference had been given to a lord who wished not only to make an offering to Apollo, but wanted to consult the Oracle as well. As a consequence he’d ended up taking his offering, which had cost him most of his remaining coin, to a minor temple. There it had been well received, but he still felt angry that his devotions were worth less in the eyes of Apollo than those of a man with coin enough to bribe his way into the god’s presence.
He took another sip of his watered wine then almost choked when someone came up behind him and slapped him on the back. It didn’t stop him springing to his feet though and instinctively go for the sword that wasn’t there. The man leaped back, surprised by the unwarranted aggression.
“Steady there, Spartan. I only came to offer you my apologies and to share a drink with you.”
Without waiting for an invitation the man sat on the bench opposite, waiving away the two guards who had accompanied him. Immediately the hostel’s host hurried over with a jug of wine and a platter of honey cakes which he placed on the table bowing ingratiatingly until the man waived him away.
“My apologies if I startled you but I saw you sitting here alone, taking up an entire table to yourself, and as all the other tables are occupied with people I don’t care to talk to, I thought I would join you. Of course, if you would rather be alone with your thoughts, you could always leave the table to me and I’ll share my jug of wine with my Captain.”
Pellecus looked up and scowled, making the man laugh. He pushed the platter of honey cakes in Pellecus’s direction and filled up his wine pot. “Yes, you’re definitely Spartan. I thought as much from the plainness of your clothes and the cut of your hair, but now I’ve seen you up close, the scowl on your face has confirmed it.”
He laughed again and stroked his curled and oiled beard. “So, Spartan, what brings you here so far from your homeland? Is there a war going on which I have missed?”
“I’m here for the same reason you are, only it is difficult to pay homage to the gods when someone bribes their way into the temple in front of you.”
The man just shrugged at the accusation. “It’s a privilege that comes from being a lord and not a common soldier like yourself, but come, Spartan, accept my apologies for besting you and eat with me.”
“I don’t eat with strangers,” said Pellecus sulkily.
The man raised his eyebrows. “Then let us not be strangers but brothers, joined by our need to be in glorious Delphi. My name is Tesiclese and yours is?”
Pellecus ignored his question. “Why are you here, Tesiclese, throwing your gold around and monopolising the Temple of Apollo?”
“I’m here for the same reason as you are, to honour the gods so that when I cross the river of the dead, the gods will remember me and be gentle with my soul.”
“The gods would remember you with more kindness if you spent time praying to them instead of flaunting your wealth.”
Tesiclese took a long drink of his wine to control his rising temper and then gave a deep sigh. “You’re probably right, but the truth of the matter is I’m in a hurry and the gods have not been at all cooperative. You see my father is elderly and not in good health, and when he dies there will be the question of inheritance which at the moment, it would seem, my elder brother would win. However, he isn’t fit to rule in my father’s place, whereas I am, so I have come to consult with the Oracle to find out how I can prove my worthiness.”
“Have you found out?” asked Pellecus curiously.
The man gave an irritated sigh. “No, the Oracle cannot tell me, but tomorrow I travel to find another who can, which is why I am stuck in this place for another night.” Impatiently he waived the host over and ordered dinner for them both, giving Pellecus the chance to study him.
At first glance he thought the man was one of those who was rich enough to live a life of idleness and luxury, but beneath the oiled hair and the artfully curled beard, he could see chiselled features and hard eyes. The hands were a giveaway too, as despite the nails being carefully manicured, the fingers were calloused from hours practicing with sword and spear.
Tesiclese finished with the host and turned his attention back to Pellecus, catching his scrutiny. For an instant his eyes darkened with irritation and his mouth hardened, but it was gone in a moment, replaced by a well rehearsed smile. “I hope you’re not hungry, Spartan, the food here is appalling, but I suppose that as you are from Sparta, it will seem like a feast.”
Pellecus glowered at him, but Tesiclese took no notice. “Now if you want good food you should go to Corinth where the best food and the best wines are to be found and even the peasants eat well.”
“You are Corinthian then?” asked Pellecus. �
��I thought you were Persian.”
It was an insult but Tesiclese just shrugged it off. “I have sufficient wealth and refinement to follow the latest fashions, which at the moment includes the Persian style of dress. I am also an adherent of their style of hunting with fast horses and long spears. Are you interested in hunting animals, Spartan, like wolves and other wild beasts?”
Pellecus just shook his head.
“No, you wouldn’t be. Marching around with nothing on except your plumed helm and a raised sword would be much more in your line. Mind you, that does have the advantage of being instantly prepared if a woman should appear and give you the eye. I have heard that the women in Sparta have long legs and pert breasts which are enough to send a man wild. I dare say you have laid a few in your time, or perhaps you prefer Athenians who can’t run as fast?”
Pellecus shot to his feet, knocking the bench over behind him and glared down at the Corinthian who looked at him in mock surprise. “A Spartan doesn’t take a woman without her consent, unless she is a prize of war.”
“No? Well perhaps not, but I bet if a young priestess appeared and gave you a sweet smile, you’d not hold back.”
Pellecus glared at him and would have leaped across the table and beaten an apology from him, but to start a brawl anywhere within Delphi’s precincts would be to offend Apollo, and that held consequences he couldn’t afford. Instead he swept his hand across the table, knocking the wine cups flying and splattering Tesiclese white robe with red wine before marching away, seething with anger.
Tesiclese guards made to follow to teach the Spartan a lesson for the insult to their lord, but Tesiclese raised his hand to forestall them, whilst the host hurried forwards with a cloth to clear up the mess. When he’d finished, he scuttled off to fetch his guest’s meal, and the Corinthian indicated for the senior of the two guards to take the place opposite. Dacos, his captain, had served him for years and occasionally had useful insights.
He waited until a platter of roasted fowl and fresh bread had been placed in front of them before he indicated that his Captain should help himself. “Eat your fill, I don’t think the Spartan will return.” He waited until Dacos had broken off a chunk of bread. “What do you think of the Spartan?”
“Touchy, as all their kind are, but he clearly knew the seer you have been told about, and from his reaction I would say she is both alive and unsullied.”
“That may be so, but I’m not altogether sure.” Tesiclese tapped a beringed finger on his lips whilst he considered the situation.
“What will you do then, my Lord?” Dacos asked.
“That is simple. Come dawn we will go and search for this seer and see if she can be of more help than the Oracle was at answering my questions.”
“And what if she is a fraud or is no longer able to foretell the future?
Tesiclese grinned. “Then to recompense me for the time I’ve wasted, I will sample what it was that made the Spartan so touchy and you, Dacos, can be next in line.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Tomb Raider
Egypt
Banniff thought his master was right to call him naïve, although he was fast learning to be cautious. In this land there were strange things around every corner, and nothing was what it seemed. A step in the wrong place bought death by snake bite or scorpion, and the sideways glance or wrong word where it wasn’t wanted bought a knife in the back. That’s why, when they had set off, he hadn’t asked where they were going or what they would do when they arrived there.
He’d expected them to journey to their destination on foot or at least by horse, but he’d ended up riding the foulest beast imaginable. It was half again taller than a horse with a long neck which bent in the wrong way, and led to a hump on which he was precariously perched. The beast had long legs which folded beneath it so he could climb on board, and large flat feet that spread out to take its weight.
Its smell was enough to turn his stomach but, worst of all, if he stood too close to its head the thing spat stinking, yellow slime at him. He hated the beast and the way it rocked backwards and forwards like a fishing boat in a storm, jarring his spine and making him feel sick. In fact the only good thing about it was that, when it ran, it ate up the miles and for that he was grateful.
He was also grateful for the long robes which Abda had given him that covered every part of his head and body in a white shroud. At first he had protested that they made him look like a Roman matron of advancing years, but he’d soon learned that they were cool to wear and protected him from the sun. That was important as without it, he wouldn’t have lasted a single day crossing the vast expanse of burning desert let alone the week they had been travelling.
Benmotha, the youngest of Tutacaraph’s business partners who spoke a few words of Roman, had told him the eastern desert was nothing compared to the great desert in the south which had no end, but it was big enough for him. It held wonders too which few men had ever spied before. Early on in his journey he’d seen three huge triangular constructions made of stone on a distant plateau, and when he asked Tutacaraph what they were, he’d been told they were the tombs of dead kings.
He would have liked to have gone closer, but his master had said they were of no interest since what had been buried within had been taken away a long time ago. There had been other wonders as well, like the ruined city which was half buried in sand so that only the remains of ancient gateways and pillars could be seen. It had high walls engraved with pictures of men who didn’t look quite right and prancing horses pulling chariots like the Romans used only lighter.
He’d seen other ruins as well which had once been temples to the gods of this strange land, but Tutacaraph wasn’t interested in those either. He supposed that if you lived here and saw such things all the time you would get used to them, just as he was used to the standing stone circles in his own land. However, it seemed strange to him that Tutacaraph’s four business partners should just ignore them completely and hurry on as if they didn’t exist.
On the other hand the four men didn’t seem the type to take an interest in anything much. Effalla, the eldest and the leader, was tall and thin with brown, broken teeth and a ragged beard which looked moth eaten. He gave the orders and spoke to no one except Tutacaraph. He was the opposite to his brother, Gazza, who was short and fat and had a broken nose which ran constantly.
The other member of the group was Ekle, which Benmotha had told him meant lizard. He was aptly named as the man was small, thin and had sharp, pointed features and was as fast as a snake. Altogether they were an unpleasant group, and he’d quickly learned to keep out of their way, especially as they were quick to draw their knives at the slightest provocation.
Fortunately Tutacaraph had told them about his ability to disappear, and as they were a superstitious bunch they gave him a wide berth. That was fine for now, but he did wonder what would happen when they reached their destination and found out he was a fraud. He suspected that one of them, probably the lizard, would knife him in the back when he wasn’t looking, and then leave his body to feed the jackals.
He was going to find out pretty soon now because over the last day they had left the desert and had started travelling through the mountains. They weren’t mountains like they had at home, which were flanked by trees and had towering peaks covered in snow. These were a barren wasteland of crumbling stone bluffs and weather beaten cliffs, interspersed with steep sided valleys and were inhabited by snakes and insects which could kill the unwary.
For now he felt reasonably safe high up on his camel, but knew it couldn’t last as this was no place for a creature of the desert sands. It therefore came as no surprise then when Effalla called a halt, and they continued on foot leaving Tutacaraph behind to tend the camels. Without his master there to control Effalla and his little gang, he felt very vulnerable, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it except to take his place in the line and follow the leader from one twisting valley to ano
ther.
After an hour of picking their way over the stony ground at a steady pace, Effalla slowed down, and every so often stepped into the shadows to refer to a scrap of parchment he carried before moving on again. They were now moving cautiously from one tumble of boulders to another, and so slowly that he wasn’t certain if their leader was lost or if he was listening for something. When the sun disappeared behind some sand coloured bluffs and they reached the top of a small rise, he had the answer to his question.
Below them the valley widened out into an open area in the shape of a horseshoe with high cliffs behind it. Cut into the cliffs were a number of openings which were clearly not natural caves, and below them on the valley floor were half a dozen wooden huts with fires burning outside and twenty or so armed men sitting around them. He’d no idea what was inside the openings, but by the number of guards there and the look of avarice on Effalla’s face, he guessed that this is what they had come for.
He expected Effalla to order him to disappear and fetch what was inside the cave-like openings, but instead he moved back from the ridge so they couldn’t be seen. Then he led them to the east away from the setting sun, being careful not to dislodge any of the loose stones beneath their feet and making as little noise as possible. After a while they turned north, and Effalla consulted his parchment again and seemed satisfied with the result as he nodded his head and continued walking until they reached the end of the ridge.
Here he led them down into another small valley surrounded by crumbling cliffs which was similar to the first but without the guards. As far as Banniff could tell there was nothing special about this valley, which looked barren and empty and didn’t have any caves, either natural or dug out by men. However, that didn’t bother Effalla, who walked around the base of the cliff and studied the rocks above as if he was searching for something.