by Tom Harper
The guards waited long enough to be sure I understood. Then they took me to my room.
It was the night that would never end. The next thing I knew, someone or something was scuttling around my room. I stiffened with terror. Had Dionysius changed his mind already?
‘It’s all right,’ said a familiar voice. ‘When they come for you, they won’t bother to be quiet.’
It was Leon. I don’t know how he got in past the guards. He put his lamp down and sat on the bed, rocking slightly forward. His eyes were bagged and bloodshot.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘Someone overheard something. Dionysius was about to move against us, so Euphemus went to see him. He knew he wouldn’t succeed, but he thought it might make Dionysius believe he was acting alone. He sacrificed himself to save us.’
‘Us?’
‘Me. Others in the court. You.’
‘But I haven’t done anything.’
‘Do you think that matters here?’
I tried to reconcile that with everything else I knew. All I could think was: ‘It seems so out of character for Euphemus.’
‘Out of character?’ The idea puzzled him. ‘How well did you know him?’
His best friend, Dionysius had called me. We’d kept company almost all the way from the Piraeus to Syracuse. And now it seemed the only time I’d come close was when I’d teased him.
You say the world is a cauldron, all boiling against all. You say we use convention to mask the grasping, selfish truth. But I think you’re hiding the opposite. Strip away convention and social expectation, like the ring of Gyges, and you might find you actually have some good in you.
‘Euphemus was part of it from the beginning,’ Leon said. ‘Why do you think he came here?’
‘Euphemus came to work for Dionysius. He admired him.’
‘Is that what you thought?’
‘He always spoke highly of Dionysius.’ But was that true? Now that it was too late, I found I couldn’t think of a single thing he’d said to praise the tyrant. He’d pumped Dimos and Archytas for gossip; he’d teased out the contradictions in my self-righteousness. But he’d never said what he really thought.
‘So because he didn’t fly into Ortygia telling the world what a super democrat he was, you thought he didn’t care? You thought you were the principled one?’ He took the corner of the sheet and wiped his face on it. ‘For a philosopher, if I may say so, you’re remarkably willing to take things at face value.’
I looked for a way to dispute it – and couldn’t find one.
‘Not that your theatrics did any harm,’ Leon went on. ‘Dionysius knew there was a plot brewing. When you arrived, he assumed you must be part of it. Well, you seemed to believe your rhetoric, so why shouldn’t he?’
‘Why did he put me in charge of his son?’
‘You think he cares about the boy?’ He considered his own question. ‘Well, maybe. Were you ever alone with him?’
I thought back. The guards in the library, eying the books like so much kindling. The librarian himself. And, always popping in or dropping by …
‘Dion.’ That was somewhere I didn’t want to go. ‘I thought he was your great hope. The man to put on the throne.’
‘Dion’s handicapped by his sense of duty. Even Dionysius doesn’t know if Dion’s loyal, but he knows he adores his nephew.’
I wanted to die. I wanted my body to dissolve, and the gods to tear my soul to shreds like smoke in a high wind. While I’d been reading Agathon’s book of nonsense, Euphemus had risked his life to overthrow the tyrant. And lost it.
You think you’re above all this, too good for the real world. I couldn’t deny it now. I’d rejected the world because I couldn’t understand it, because my mind insisted there must be something better. Euphemus took the world as it was and gobbled it up, unashamed of his appetites. He didn’t believe there was any such thing as goodness or virtue, yet he’d been willing to die for it.
Socrates said: If I have any wisdom at all, it’s that I know I know nothing. I’d forgotten even that much.
Leon shifted his weight on the bed to remind me he was still there.
‘So what happens now?’
‘Dionysius is still alive. No one’s safe.’
‘Won’t he be on his guard?’
Leon squinted at me. ‘When we asked you to help a few hours ago, you refused.’
‘I’m not refusing now.’
‘Dionysius is off tomorrow on a hunting trip. The boy’s going, so you will too.’
‘Will he really take me, after all …’ I flapped a hand. ‘This.’
‘Dionysius knows Euphemus must have had accomplices in the court. As long as he suspects you, he’ll keep you close in case you lead him to the others.’
‘How do you know I won’t betray you?’
He pressed his fingers together. ‘Because the moment Dionysius thinks you’re no use, he’ll kill you.’
Thirty-four
Jonah – Sibari
It was 1 a.m. in Athens. Adam answered after three rings.
‘I’ve got the tablet,’ Jonah said into the phone.
The phone said nothing back. If it hadn’t been for the music playing in the background, he’d have thought the connection had dropped.
‘Where was it?’ Adam asked at last, as if they were simply discussing a key he’d misplaced.
‘Do you want it?’
‘Very much.’
‘Then give me Lily.’
Another silence. A breeze blew through his wet clothes, carrying the cold deep inside him.
‘Where are you now?’
‘Italy.’
‘I’ll need to make some arrangements. Have you got transportation?’
‘Yes.’
‘Head south. Leave your phone on. I’ll call in a bit.’
Jonah handed the phone to Ren. His own pocket was soaked through, along with the rest of his clothes. He could feel the ice creeping closer to his heart.
‘Where now?’ she asked.
‘Back to the lab. We’ll get the van and head out.’ He wanted to be gone as fast as possible.
‘The truck might be more reliable.’
‘I want the van.’ Battered, rusted and conspicuous it might be – but it was a friend, and he needed friends now.
Richard glanced at his watch. ‘What shall I tell them if they come here?’
‘Tell them?’ Jonah shook his head. ‘You’re coming with us.’
A plywood wall boxed off the back of the van, where they kept the instruments and kit. Jonah considered locking Richard in with them, but in the end he didn’t bother. He didn’t think Richard wanted to make himself a martyr by attacking him while they were driving. They all squeezed into the front and headed down SS106, the flat artery that connects the Italian heel to its toe. That late, they had the road to themselves. Their headlights opened a tunnel through the darkness, forever receding as they rushed into it.
‘Why does Maroussis want the tablet?’ Jonah asked.
Wedged in between Jonah and Ren, Richard squirmed. ‘It’s a priceless artefact.’
‘Everything has a price,’ Ren said. ‘It’s not even unique.’
‘It must be,’ said Jonah.
‘Ask Adam. Do you think he tells me anything? He thinks I’m just a glorified shovel monkey.’
‘He always overestimated you.’
Richard lapsed into a sullen silence, then said, as if it was something he’d rehearsed: ‘Adam’s a nihilist perfectionist. He’s hard to please.’
A fragment of an old conversation dropped through time. We saw through the gilded lie. ‘He’s not a nihilist,’ Jonah said. ‘He’s an idealist who can’t find anything that measures up.’
The phone rang. Jonah put it on speaker.
‘Do you have a map?’ Adam said.
‘Yes.’
‘Just after Locri, there’s a turnoff signposted to a village called Plati. Follow that road for twenty-eight kilometres. When
you see a rockslide next to a chapel, turn right onto a track. That’ll take you to a village.’
‘And that’s where you’ve got Lily?’
‘That’s where she’ll be.’
‘Who else?’
‘I’m hoping to be there myself. To take delivery of the tablet.’
‘No.’ Jonah’s foot pressed harder on the accelerator. ‘You’ll give me Lily. Then I’ll tell you where I’ve left the tablet.’
‘That’s not acceptable.’
‘Do you think I’m going to drive up to the middle of nowhere with the tablet in my hand and trust you to keep your word?’ No answer. ‘How badly do you want this tablet?’
‘How badly do you want Lily?’
‘There was a time when you’d have done anything for her.’
A pause. ‘Just bring the tablet.’
The odomoter ticked round. Jonah half hoped the signal would die, letting him off the hook. How badly do you want Lily?
‘OK.’
‘One more thing.’
Jonah steeled himself. ‘What?’
‘The road’s not in good condition. Drive carefully.’
He drove forever. At some stage, Richard climbed in the back and went to sleep; Ren dozed intermittently against her window. Jonah didn’t feel tired. Hope, and the terror that hope brings, kept his blood racing through empty towns and silent roads. The darkness in his mirror softened to purple, then deep blue. Ren stirred.
‘Do you mind?’ Jonah asked.
She stretched. ‘Sorry?’
‘Giving back the tablet. You said you wanted to hurt Maroussis. Now he’s getting what he wants.’
She stared out of the window. A pharmacy’s neon green cross flickered on the glass. ‘Your wife’s more important.’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell me about her.’ She put her bare feet up on the dashboard. ‘Tell me why you didn’t give up, when the obvious conclusion was that she’d run off with Adam. Didn’t you doubt her?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because … I knew.’
‘How?’
He struggled to find the words. ‘It’s like when I’m playing with the band. When it’s tight, when we’re all in a groove, it just feels different. Sometimes I don’t even know what’s going to come out, but I know it’s going to be right. It’s like that with Lily. There’s something inside her I hear, or feel, or sense, or whatever you want to call it. Something that’s true.’
‘You mean like her soul?’
He shrugged, embarrassed. ‘You’re the one who believes in reincarnation.’ He tried to turn it back on her. ‘Haven’t you ever felt that way about someone?’
‘No.’ She wiggled her toes. ‘Well, maybe once. But he was a long time ago.’
‘What happened to him?’
She changed the subject. ‘Do you know where we’re going? The Aspromonte?’
‘No.’
‘It’s like a piece of history that survived, a lost world from when this whole area was a Greek colony.’
‘I thought that was ancient history.’
‘It survived here. Deep in the Aspromonte, there are still villages which speak a dialect of ancient Greek. It’s one of the most remote places in Italy.’ She frowned. ‘It’s also the home of the N’drangheta. You’ve heard of them?’
‘Mafia, right?’
‘The name’s a corruption of Andron Geta, which is Greek for “men of honour”.’
Jonah steered the van past a dead dog on the roadside. ‘Are we likely to meet them?’
‘Maroussis’ business is shipping. On the other side of the Aspromonte is Gioia Tauro, the biggest container port in Italy and also Europe’s biggest port for cocaine. You think Maroussis doesn’t have friends in this part of the world?’
Ahead, a signpost pointed them to Plati. As they turned, Jonah realised he could read it without the headlights.
Oxford
The morning after Adam’s symposium, Jonah woke early. The snow from the night before had settled, a thin crust on the world that made everything different. On any other day, he could have sat by the window for hours taking it in. Not today.
The bed they shared was a student bed, a narrow iron frame with sagging springs. Lily wasn’t in it. She wasn’t in the kitchen either. Ice smeared the open window: he touched it, and realised it was on the inside of the pane. The air was so cold it hurt to breathe.
She hadn’t come back.
He found orange juice in the fridge and drank half the carton. There were bananas in a bowl: he ate three. He wondered about boiling the kettle, but the thought of the taste of coffee made him sick.
There was a void where his mind should have been. He pulled on some clothes and boots, his army-surplus coat and scarf, and let himself out. Down the road, past the pub and the new housing estate, along Aristotle Lane and across the railway tracks. Beyond, the open space of Port Meadow glittered in the winter sun, with the dark river winding through the trees in the distance. A few dog walkers had braved it, but otherwise the snow was pristine.
Walking saved him having to think about the night before. The meadow had flooded and frozen before the snow: every step crunched through to the ice beneath, threatening his balance. He had to concentrate so hard, he reached the river almost without realising it.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared into the black water. A half-sunk log twisted in the current.
What happened last night?
The memories were too much for his fried, fragile head. He kicked away some snow and stamped his heel on the ice until it shattered, pulling away the shards and tossing them in the river one by one. They floated away like pieces of memory.
Her footsteps were so light they made no sound in the snow. He didn’t hear her until she spoke.
‘You weren’t at home. I thought you’d come here.’
He threw the last piece of ice in the river, skipping it across the surface like a stone. ‘Shouldn’t you be with Adam?’
‘Charis took him to the Radcliffe Infirmary.’
It wasn’t what he meant, or the answer he expected. But anger and cold made his brain too sluggish to change course.
‘What happened last night? You and Adam.’
He thought he was prepared. He’d let the cold flow in deep, icing him up before the bruises started to form. He was ready for the hit.
But not for what she actually said.
‘He tried to kill himself.’
He turned around. The sun on the snow hit his tired eyes and he flinched back. All he saw of Lily was her negative, a ghost image behind his eyelids.
‘Why?’
‘A bad trip.’ She shivered. Jonah couldn’t see it, but he heard it in her voice. ‘The stuff he put in the wine made him crazy. He was convinced he was trapped in a dream, that the only way to wake up was by dying.’
‘Did you drink it too?’
‘It made me sick. I think most of it came back up.’
‘What about the others?’
‘They’re OK.’ Another tremor. ‘They were just watching, laughing at him. Julian opened the window and told him to fly away.’
Shielding his eyes, he risked another look back. Lily was crying.
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘He did it for me.’
‘That’s the most fucked-up thing—’
‘He wanted to get to the truth.’
‘What truth?’
‘He got the idea that we’re prisoners of our selves, that the drug would smash down our conscious walls and reveal our true feelings.’
‘Why?’
‘He thinks I love him.’
They’d come to the place he’d first thought, after all, but from a different direction and he wasn’t prepared for it. All he could do was stay frozen still and try not to fall into the white void around him.
‘And?’
‘I love you,’ she said simply.
In the dead trees on the island,
a crow cawed. The ice inside him started to drip, but that was worse than frozen. He wasn’t numb any more. He was cold and wet and he’d been standing still too long.
‘I’m going home,’ he said. ‘Back north. This was the wrong thing.’
‘Because of last night?
‘Because of … everything.’
‘Are you saying we’re the wrong thing?’
She was nothing but a voice, a goddess speaking out of the ice. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He told himself it was the glare.
‘I don’t belong here.’
‘You do when I’m here.’
‘It was easy on holiday. Oxford …’ How to explain it? The dislocation and hours of solitude. The feeling of things happening just out of sight, that you were peering in the window of a mansion hearing words and laughter drift out, no hope of a key.
‘This isn’t a good time for this conversation.’
He turned and started walking. The snow crunched under his feet.
‘If you leave, you won’t come back,’ she called after him.
He knew it was true. He knew he was pushing her to breaking. He kept walking.
‘If you don’t turn around now, you’ll never see me again.’
Jonah kept going, slouched against the cold. He knew he was wrong. He knew he’d regret it. He could already feel the hurt beginning to form, ice creeping across the edges of his soul. But there was a darkness inside him, lumpen and proud, which refused to turn. Even if it was the biggest mistake of his life.
Something cold and hard hit him smack on the back of the head. He spun around, just in time to catch the next snowball clean in the face. Snow ran through his hair and fell down his collar.
‘Why’d you do that?’
Her face was flushed, her bare hands wet with snow. The scratch on her cheek from the night before was livid.
‘Because I wanted you to turn around.’
‘That’s cheating.’
‘You can keep going if you want.’
But he didn’t. Without really thinking, he was walking towards her. They met on the riverbank and embraced, a hot kiss that melted the snow on his face and made it trickle down his nose. Whatever had been inside him dissolved away. In the distance, among the spires, a bell chimed.