by Gene Wolfe
We lived instead, as Hypereides had foretold. The enormous boar recoiled from my blade, scattering the remaining Thracians like so many birds and opening one from groin to throat with its fearsome tusks. (Its shoulders were higher than theirs—this I saw.) Thamyris drew his sword and rushed upon us like a madman, and Hypereides ducked beneath his cut to kill him.
What would have happened next had we, the three remaining Thracians, and the boar remained pent in the megaron, I cannot say; the great door opened once again, and through it dashed a pack of piebald hounds. For an instant, they foamed like the sea about the boar, so that it seemed to me they would surely drag it down and tear it to bits; but it shook them aside and fled through the open door. Outside I heard the shouts and shrieks of those in the courtyard, and the baying of the hounds.
Then boar and hounds were gone.
Of the rest of the battle I write but a little, for though many a wound must still bleed, all I recall of it is scattered and confused. Acetes had come, and (so he explained to us a few moments ago) had persuaded Nessibur to admit his shieldmen and Hegesistratus, Oeobazus, and the black man, as well as himself; but before he had called for a truce and advanced to the wall, he had given a pledge to the Thracians besieging the palace that he would open its gates for them if he could. He did this, as he himself conceded, upon the advice of Hegesistratus, who had pointed out to him that he could not lose by it, for he need not unbar the gates unless he wished the aid of the Thracians outside them.
It would seem that when the boar dashed into the courtyard, someone there—whether a Thracian or a Hellene no one can say—threw wide both gates, perhaps merely in the hope that it would run out; at this the Thracians outside rushed in, believing that Acetes had fulfilled his pledge.
Nessibur is dead, they say, and with him all who sided with Thamyris except a few peltasts. With much gold, Acetes received the daughter of a noble Thracian, who offered to buy a girl from him in addition. The gold has been divided, the greater portion among our crew, but much also to Hypereides, Hegesistratus, the kybernetes, Oeobazus, the black man, and me. Mine I have hidden in my chest. Some was in coins of many sorts, most in ornaments, rings, buckles, and the like; thus the division was by weight.
We might have had much more gold, I think, had we remained in Thrace; but all of us were eager to go. It was for Oeobazus that we came, Io says, and we have him. We sailed in such hurry that many useful articles were left behind. In justice to Io, I must add that I do not think anything can have been left by her. She brought a sword she says the Amazons gave her, a sling Polos made for her, my clothing as well as her own, this scroll and my old one, and other things. I still have the helmet I took from the palace, though my shield was so deeply cut I left it behind.
I was talking to Polos, who asked many questions about the boar; all the Hellenes have been chattering about it. I brought him to Hegesistratus, who told us that in Thracian art a boar is the foe of Pleistorus; this foe is called Zalmoxis, and is often shown as a bear instead. Hegesistratus and Polos say Pleistorus is the god to whom Oeobazus was to be sacrificed. Hegesistratus could not explain why Thamyris had a boar in the megaron, except by saying what everyone says: that besieged men are unlikely to turn out any animal that can be eaten at need.
Polos wanted to know whether Hegesistratus had seen the boar, and whether it was as big as everyone is saying. "I did," Hegesistratus told him, "and it was as large as they are saying now. However, it was not as large as they will say it was when we reach Thought."
I think that a very good answer indeed.
Perhaps I should not trouble myself with such trivialities, but I have nothing better to do than write, though some of our crew are bailing or shifting the supplies in the hold to better the trim of the ship. Thus I will set down that we who were in the battle at the palace are the envy of the rest. Hypereides has told the four sailors to whom Acetes gave helmets, hoplons, and breastplates that they may keep them as the reward of their valor. These represent a great deal of money, but Acetes told Cleton we would pay for—rather than return—them. Hypereides plans to bill the priests on the high city for the full amount; because he is bringing Oeobazus, they will not refuse him.
After I wrote last I went privately to Hegesistratus to ask him about the hounds; it puzzled me that no one mentions them. He said he did not see them; he heard their baying, but thought himself the only one who had. I assured him I had heard them, and seen them. He says they are Cynthia's; she is a goddess to whom both of us are indebted. He was fervent in her praises—even more so when I described to him how her hounds had chivied the boar.
Elata challenged us to swim, though the sea looks so cold. (This is the one these Hellenes call the Water.) The kybernetes had a sailor tie a long line to the sternpost, letting it trail after the ship so that swimmers could catch hold of it, should it appear they might be left behind. When Hegesistratus took off his clothing, I saw that he had been wounded several times, some very fresh; he says he received those when he and I fought alongside the Amazons. (Io says these women gave her the sword. It seems very strange to me that women should also be soldiers.)
Hegesistratus pointed to the oldest wound and asked whether I remembered it. When I admitted I did not, he told me that he received it from an assassin in Sestos. I cannot recall Sestos, though I know that there is such a city on Helle's Sea.
Everyone stared at Elata when she took off her gown. She did not seem to mind, but soon grew chilled and dove into the sea; Hegesistratus untied the thongs that hold his wooden foot and dove after her. They called for me to join them, but I do not think Hegesistratus truly wished it; though no one swam with them, they swam together for a long time. When they returned to the ship, they sat very close together and wrapped themselves in both their cloaks, saying that though the sea is cold, the wind is colder.
The kybernetes says that this island is Sign-of-Thrace; it is called so because it is a day's sail from the Thracian coast. Everyone says we have been in Thrace, though I cannot recall that either. Io tells me I have written much about it in this book.
There are fine ports on this island, Hypereides says, but this is only a fishing village. We do not wish to dock at one of the ports because no one knows whether these Hellenes remain loyal to the Empire; here we count two men for each villager. Besides, these poor people care nothing for the Empire, and it nothing for them. Hypereides, Io, and I are going to sleep here tonight; this is the largest house in the village. It is good we have a house to sleep in. We would be very uncomfortable, I think, if we slept outside, even if we slept around a fire built in a sheltered spot.
As things are, we have been roasting fresh thrushes, which is very pleasant. Kroxinas, whose house this is, netted them a few days before; his wife plucks them for us, and we roast them on green sticks.
Kroxinas has as many questions as Polos, it seems, but he asks them mostly with his eyes. When he can no longer hold one back, he asks Io. Hypereides answers, usually. Kroxinas asked what had brought our ship to Thrace so late in the season, and Hypereides told him we came to set the son of King Kotys firmly upon the throne of Apsinthia.
Kroxinas had heard of Kotys, but had not known he was dead. (All this was greatly complicated by the fact that Kotys' son is named for his father.) Hypereides said that now that the Empire is crumbling, it is the task of Thought to bring the rule of law to the islands of the Water and the lands along its coasts. His talk has made me think that the Great King must need me now more than ever.
Io added, "There was a big battle—my master and Hypereides were right in the thick of it."
Kroxinas and his wife were as eager to hear about it as I, and Hypereides obliged us. I will set down here only the meat of what he said, omitting a good deal.
"After King Kotys was murdered by his nobles, his mother's brother, Thamyris, tried to take the throne. He was getting on in years and had been chief adviser to his nephew—a good one, from all I heard—but now he wanted to be king himself. We h
ad been patrolling Helle's Sea against the Great King, but as soon as Xanthippos got word of it, he sent us off to Apsinthia right away. The Thracians are afraid of the Rope Makers; so since we didn't have any with us, I bought a scarlet cloak for Acetes in Sestos. When we got to Thrace, he pretended he was a strategist from Rope and the rest of us were allies and auxiliaries from their league. That got the nobles supporting the prince on our side pretty quickly, and I was able to find out what was going on, even though the whole situation was still badly confused at that point.
"With Thamyris surrounded and the other Thracians afraid of us, I didn't think anything of going around Cobrys alone. I had my sword for footpads—which a man isn't allowed to wear back in Thought— and like I said, the city was friendly. I didn't even wear armor. What I should have done is taken Latro and the black man with me; they're my bodyguards, but I didn't think I needed them.
"Well, I got quite a surprise. I was sitting around in the house of a friend of mine, telling a few jokes and talking about business, when in comes a couple of high noblemen. Their faces were practically blue with tattoos, and by the stone I'm glad I won't have to look at those again for a while! Each had half a dozen henchmen with him, every one of them armed to the teeth. 'King Thamyris wants to talk to you,' they said. 'We've come to escort you to the palace.'
"I know what barbarians are like, and I could see I wasn't going to get out of that palace until I bought my way out, so I said I'd come tomorrow and pretended to be drunk. They weren't buying any, though. 'Our orders are to bring you,' they told me. They threw me down and tied my hands behind my back, and off we went.
"Latro here found out about it and came to the palace to try to get me out. They brought me in and told me they were going to make Latro kill me; it was just a threat to bring us around, of course, but I didn't like it and neither did he.
"Thamyris had a pet boar. It's one of the shapes Zalmoxis is supposed to take, so I imagine it was a sacred animal of some kind. I don't suppose you've ever been to Riverland, Kroxinas, but believe me, the country's full of them. Then, too, we've got owls in Thought, as you likely know; they're the sacred birds of our goddess, and her priests feed them.
"So to change the subject, Latro said, 'That's a lovely pig you've got there,' and went over to have a look at it. Thamyris must have thought he meant to harm it, so then everything turned upside down. He had half a dozen retainers with him, thinking that was enough to hold us, I suppose; but we killed a couple as quick as you could snap your fingers and were getting the upper hand of the rest when Latro saw that the boar was set to charge. 'Run,' he yelled to me, and believe me, we ran! That was the biggest boar you ever saw in your life, and it went for those Thracians like we went for the Great King's ships at the Battle of Peace."
Io asked, "Isn't that when Acetes came?"
Hypereides nodded. "That's right. Acetes had heard about what had happened to me, too, and he led the loyal Thracians' attack. If he hadn't, they probably would've killed Latro and me sooner or later. We had the wildest battle you ever saw; no formations and 'each man stand shield to shield for his city' stuff—this was the kind of real knock-down fighting old Homer tells about. I haven't had so much fun since Fennel Field."
Kroxinas, who had listened openmouthed, asked Io, "What became of Thamyris? Did they cut off his head?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact that's exactly what they did," Hypereides told him. "Cut it off, stuck it on the point of a lance, and put it up at the palace gate for everybody to see. But only after I'd killed him with my own hand."
Io nudged me as though to say, "I bet it was you, master."
I said, "I've been talking to Hegesistratus about the boar. No one ever killed it, he says."
Hypereides shook his head. "A hundred people have asked me what became of it, but I don't know."
Kroxinas's wife murmured, "Don't you think the boar might have been Zalmoxis himself? We're Hellenes, but we have people who worship Zalmoxis here." She shivered. "I don't think the baby prince's uncle would've tried to be king if he hadn't been promised it by some god."
Io told Hypereides, "Pleistorus doesn't like Zalmoxis. In Thrace we saw pictures of him sticking Zalmoxis with his spear."
Hypereides laughed. "Well, Pleistorus didn't come around to help us. I wish he had—we could have used him."
PART THREE
TWENTY-SIX
In Cimon's Garden
COMFORTABLY SEATED IN THE SHADE of an apple tree, the great men received us. Hypereides had described them to me already; thus I knew that the tough-looking, round-headed, blunt-featured man was Themistocles, and the tall, fine-looking, younger man Cimon, our host. Xanthippos we have met previously, so Io says, though I do not recall him. At any rate he greeted us as friends, and Cimon's servants brought stools for us.
"We've asked you here to discuss the death of Oeobazus," Themistocles began. I saw that he watched Oeobazus himself for his reaction, and so did I. There was none.
After a moment, Xanthippos chuckled. "Not many dead men have borne the news of their own demise with such equanimity, Oeobazus. You are to be congratulated."
The Mede's white teeth flashed like a sword in the thicket of his beard. "If you mean you're going to kill me, I've heard that in other places."
Themistocles shook his head. "I said only that you were here to talk about it. It took place quite some time ago. You were sacrificed by the Thracian barbarians to—what is it they call him?"
"Pleistorus," Hegesistratus prompted him.
Themistocles cocked an eyebrow. "He's one of their major gods? In that part of Thrace?"
Hegesistratus nodded. "Very much so."
"Good. That was the end of you, Oeobazus. Most certainly you never came to Thought or any other part of the Long Coast. Since we can clearly no longer call you Oeobazus, what would you like us to call you instead? Not by one of your family names, please."
The Mede thought quickly, or perhaps had been warned that some such question would be asked. "Why not Zihrun? I believe I'm entitled to that."
Xanthippos smiled, as did Hegesistratus and the black man. Seeing that no one else understood, Xanthippos explained, "It's 'Life chose me.' Certainly that's a good name for you, Zihrun. You're not unwilling to return to the Empire?"
At that Cimon spoke for the first time. There is nothing extraordinary about his clear, pleasant voice, and yet there is something very extraordinary about being spoken to by Cimon; I think it must come from the level gaze of those gray eyes. He said, "We won't tell you how dangerous this is for him. You're not children."
I looked around for Io, for she is indeed a child still, though she might say otherwise; but she and Elata had wandered away among the trees, perhaps feeling it more decent to leave men's talk to men. Polos was helping in the stable.
"Well put." Themistocles nodded. "We'll have to talk more about this in private, Zihrun—who you're to see and what you're to tell them, everything we need to learn. I'm going to impress the importance of your death in Thrace on everyone here in just a moment. But first we owe you more of an explanation, and more in the way of assurance, than you've had yet. What do you know of our politics?"
"That your people are themselves your king," the Mede said. "That you're their war leader, their highest-ranking strategist, called the pole-march. Beyond those, nothing."
"And you, Hegesistratus?"
"A foreigner's knowledge, and out of date at that. I am eager to learn."
"Then I'll explain to both of you, as quickly and simply as I can. If I show any prejudice for my own party or my friends, my colleagues here will correct me, you may be sure. I ask you to notice—to begin with—that I'm outnumbered."
Xanthippos shook his head and cleared his throat. "Hardly. Hypereides is your man, and a speaker of considerable eloquence, as I've several times been forced to admit."
Themistocles grinned; it made me like him. "There you see it— that's how we do it here. Among you Medes, I'm told, there are many men so hono
rable that everyone trusts them. We're not like that at all— we never trust one another. So what we do instead is make sure that each side's represented, so that every rascal's got two worse looking over his shoulder. Hegesistratus knows all this, of course. We Hellenes are all the same.
"The Rope Makers—we'll be talking about them soon—would tell you they have two kings so each can keep the other honest. We have two political groups instead—the shieldmen's party and the naval mob. I'm head of the naval mob. Xanthippos and Cimon are leaders of the shieldmen's party. That means that when we say we're behind you, you've got the pledges of both sides."
The Mede nodded.
"We have our differences," Themistocles continued, "serious and profound differences. You said earlier that our people rule themselves. It's actually the case only when my own party's in power."
Cimon shot him a glance both censorious and humorous.
"I represent the working poor, who make up the majority in our city just as in every other. My people want jobs as seamen, stevedores, and dockyard workers. They make our pottery and so on, and they know that for them to eat, Thought must trade. That means we get the shipowners—like Hypereides here—and most of the merchants and manufacturers, too."
Cimon glanced at Xanthippos and said, "Allow me to speak for our side, Themistocles. I'll begin by warning Zihrun and the rest that not everything you've said is true. And, Zihrun, you're not to suppose that because we're shieldmen, we think that Thought could live without ships, although Themistocles and his friends sometimes talk as if it could live without soldiers. Nor does Themistocles, as he tried to imply, represent all poor men who work. Wholly untrue! No men work harder than those who must plow and sow, tend and guard the herds and flocks, harvest and thresh the grain, prune and manure the vines, and trample the grapes. If you were to go into our Assembly, Zihrun, you would find that those vital workers, without whom we would all starve, support our party to a man. And should Themistocles challenge that, I will show you two score of them here and let you speak with them yourself.