Soldier of Arete (40 page)

A man's life is indeed short, ending in death. If it were long, his days would be of small value. If there were no death, of none. Let him fill each day with honor and joy. Let him not condemn himself or another, for he does not know the laws of his existence or theirs. If he sleeps in death, let him sleep. If while sleeping he should meet a god, he must let the god decide how well or ill he lived.

The god he meets must rule upon a man's life, never the man himself.

FORTY-TWO

Pausanias Rages

IO SAYS THAT WHEN KICHESIPPOS came to speak about me, the prince struck him. I think it shameful to strike so aged and learned a man. So does Pausanias—I saw it in his face—but he struck him nonetheless.

"The gods toy with me." Thus he spoke to Tisamenus when he summoned us. "They give me the greatest victory in history and tear its fruits from my hands."

"The Hellenes should restore your goods to you," Tisamenus told him. "They're deeply in your debt."

"I can't ask that!"

"Of course not, Your Highness." Tisamenus rubbed his plump chin and rolled his eyes to heaven. "Yet some others might urge such gratitude—without so much as a hint from Your Highness, to be sure. Themistocles is here; and Simonides, the poet, is with him."

Here is what happened. I learned of it bit by bit, and the last only by going to the agora and speaking to the Crimson Men held there under guard. Pausanias entrusted the spoils of his victory to their ship; they had been promised a safe passage by Tower Hill, but they were overtaken and boarded by a ship from Hundred-Eyed, and towed to a port at the foot of the mountain. By this he has lost a fortune.

Their captain knows me. Muslak is his name. Not wishing him to see how I forget, I hailed him in return when he hailed me.
Lewqys,
he called me, and perhaps that is my name; surely no man is really named Latro.

He said, "I knew you'd come back when you could come alone. You didn't want the old man to know we're friends, did you? But we hoped you'd come sooner."

I told him I had seen no point in returning until I learned their situation, though the truth was that I had no notion how I might help them. When one understands nothing yet must speak, it is best to question. I asked a great many. When I wanted to know whether he would return me to my home if I were to free him and his crew, and return their ship to them, his eyes flew wide. He swore he would. He assured me he knew the place, pointing to the west.
Luhitu
was the word he used. We spoke as the Crimson Men do, so that their guards would not understand.

I still do not know what can be done, but I know that for gold these Hellenes will connive at anything. Io has some, as I saw when she got out the coin I gave Aglaus.

The prince watched me box with Diokles. We wear himantes to protect our hands and do not strike hard. Diokles is quick and wary; as I explained to the prince, that is what is needed in practice.

"You seem cheerful enough today," he told me.

I showed him how Diokles tricks me with his left hand, and explained how much trouble that had given me. "So I've learned something new, Your Highness. I will forget where I learned it, I know. But I think not what I have learned."

He grinned and slapped my shoulder. His scars give him an evil face, but I do not believe an evil heart beats beneath it. "It was you that cured him, wasn't it, Diokles?"

Diokles spat. "He cured himself, Highness, by doing what I told him. I might have helped a little."

"I feel sure you did. I've been keeping track of Latro's physicians, or trying to. He's been cured by Kichesippos and Tisamenus (who had a wondrous vision last night, by the way). And by Amyklos, I'm sure, although he hasn't come around yet to claim the credit for it. Yes, and by his slippery little wench Io. That's four. And now by himself and you, which makes six. Is there anybody else? How about Polos?"

Recalling the dream of which I wrote at sunup, I told him, "Yes, Highness, by Polos and Pasicrates. But by Polos most of all."

"That brings my total to eight—I shall win the laurels for certain. But I wanted to ask both of you something about Polos. Latro, can you recall what Tisamenus told me concerning him this morning?"

"Certainly. That he should ride Argas for you."

"You have the ear of the gods, Latro, as I've said before—whether you know it or not. So do you agree?"

I shrugged. "Does Polos want to?"

"I haven't asked him."

Diokles spat again. " 'Course he does. He's asked me about the boys' events, wanting to get into everything. I had to tell him he couldn't, and those big boys would thresh him anyhow. But he's lighter than Ladas. That's always good. Besides, you never saw such a hand with horses."

Aglaus rubbed me while Diokles did the same for Pasicrates. "What a dream I had! You knocked me down, then helped me up."

I have forgotten my own dream, but I had read of it here. I asked whether he was certain it had been I.

"Sure, because I thought you'd hit me again when you lifted me. My neck's sore—that brought on the dream, I suppose."

Pasicrates remarked that such a dream seemed a good omen for a boxer.

"No more boxing for Latro," Diokles told him. He counted on his fingers. "He's only got four days till the real thing, and he mustn't carry bruises into it."

I should say here that no boxer would hit a man again after helping him rise—when a man has been knocked down, the fight is over. It is only in the pankration that a man knocked down may continue to fight.

Afterward, Pasicrates spoke with me in private. "I had a dream, too," he said, "but in mine it was I who struck Aglaus." I said nothing, and he continued, "When you saw how angry I was, you asked whether I wanted my hand back. I was angry at you—I suppose I struck Aglaus because he's your servant—and I said that since you had taken it you might keep it. I felt that if you returned it, I would have to end our quarrel, you see."

I said that if that was the case, I certainly hoped I had given it back to him.

"You did. We rode to your quarters, and you got it out of your chest. Your sword lay on top; under it were chitons and so on. You kept pulling things out and putting them on the ground. My hand was at the very bottom. I took it out and stuck it on my arm somehow."

He laughed, and I laughed with him. "I hope you helped me repack my clothes."

"I don't remember. But the truly odd part is that all day I've felt as if I really had it back: like a complete man again. I can do anything that anybody with two hands can, after all—except play the lyre, perhaps."

Tisamenus took me to the prince, and the three of us called upon Orsippos. Tisamenus says he is a warden of Hundred-Eyed and its richest citizen. At first, I could not understand why I had been brought to be stared at by Orsippos, who is fat and has lost hair at the crown. Later I realized that it is because the prince has bet with him and he wished to see me. Their bet on the chariots was doubled.

Though it made some other Rope Makers angry, Pasicrates and I marched side by side at the opening of the games; the ceremony was extremely impressive. Afterward, the Babylonian, the black man, and the children found us; and we remained with them in the stadium to hear a poet from Cowland. Pasicrates ridiculed his twanging accent at first, but soon acknowledged him the best of all. The hellanodikai were of the same opinion, awarding him the laurels. He is certainly a friend, as Io says he is, for he talked with us for a time though a hundred at least were waiting to speak with him.

The stadium is very fine; its lower seats are stone, though the upper ones are wooden. It is open at each end so that those who please the god may come and go. The oval track is exactly a stade in length—we marched around this. All the poets brought stools; they sat in the center, with their stools on the grass. The listeners left their seats to gather around their favorites. By the time the contest was over, the crowd around our poet was very large indeed.

I have begun to read this from the beginning. Today I read about Artayctes and his son, but learned little of use. I have told Aglaus that he must speak to me each day, privately, about the slaves in the market; and I have told him what he must say.

Pasicrates ran well but did not win; the prince was angry. At his command, Tisamenus and Diokles sought to have my name set down in the wrestlers' roll, but the judges would not permit it, saying it is too late.

This has been an unquiet night—laughter, I find, can be as hard to bear as any blow. Pharetra lay with me, and for a time we talked of bows and the like, she having visited the house of a man who deals in such things. His swords, she says, are fine, his bows not bad. I told her to find out whether he would sell her bows, arrows, and swords without asking why she required them. When she said she had nothing to trade, I explained that I would supply her with money. She has learned enough of Io's tongue to make herself understood.

The other woman came. She did not dare enter the pavilion but screamed at Pharetra, calling her a wild cow and many other names; she roused everyone. Pharetra chased her away, but even Polos laughed at us. I could not remain. I write this by the fire of a knowing man with a wooden foot. He has consulted the gods for me, and says I will do well in the games, and score my greatest triumph in the chariot race. I have been considering what I must do, and feel sure he is correct.

Today was the day of the diaulos, the most popular of all the footraces. Elimination heats were held in the morning, the great event at evening. Pasicrates ran so well that it seemed to all of us that he had won, but the judges ruled in favor of another. The distance between them cannot have been more than the width of a man's thumb.

Diokles taught me wrestling. He calls it the least useful part of the pankration, but says that I should know it as well as the rest. He taught me several valuable holds, but when we actually wrestled, I beat him easily.

The poet with many rings is composing an ode to honor the winner of the stadion; the man's city will pay.

A man from the Isle of Roses has won the dolichos. It was terrible to hear the blows and see Pasicrates's face afterward; I should have knocked the mantis and the old physician aside and stopped it. When it was over, he called Polos to him and kissed him, and embraced me as a brother. He limps, as I noticed after the race, when he thinks himself unobserved. Now the prince has sent him to Tower Hill, telling him not to return without gold.

This was the day of the five trials. I did not go to the stadium with the others but into the town, hoping to buy a stall for Aglaus. The market was empty, however, because everyone had gone to the games. I was ready to leave when Anysia invited me to share the first meal with her; thinking she would want money, I told her I would not lie with a woman until after the chariot race. She took my arm and said I need not, that she wished to speak with me. When everyone returned to eat, we ate, too; I found an old woman (cast in eye, south side of the agora) very ready to sell her little fruit stall. Later Anysia and I went to the stadium with the rest.

Here is everything Anysia told me before the first meal; it is certainly important if it is true, and perhaps even if it is not. She is from Thespiae, west of Hill, and lives by dancing. Tonight I watched her in the red glare of the torches—how like a goddess she appeared!

"I'm your true love," she said. "You forget, and so you can't really know love, but I love you and I'll never forget you. I'm as true a love as you will ever have. Do you think you love Pharetra?"

"I must," I told her. "My heart leaped when you spoke her name."

Anysia seemed to study me. "You probably won't believe me, but the Amazon you think is your Pharetra isn't. Your Pharetra died in Thrace."

I felt then that I had heard my own death sentence.

"There's a certain Amazon," Anysia continued, "who others may tell you is Pharetra. She's very tall and strong, and has brown hair. Do you know the one I mean?"

Io had described such a woman when we woke, calling her Pharetra.

"Her name's really Hippostizein. She was a comrade of your Pharetra, who was quite a bit shorter and had red hair. Seeing how you grieved and knowing you forget, your slave told you this woman was Pharetra, after she volunteered to play the part."

I said nothing.

"They laugh about it behind your back, no doubt, and think themselves extremely clever; but your slave girl, at least, has exchanged her happiness for yours. Or so I'm told."

I nodded, for I feel that I understand.

"As a favor to me, who've told you the plain truth, please don't beat her too severely—I've been beaten myself, a time or two. You can kill the tall one for all I care."

I shook my head, knowing that I would harm neither Io nor the tall woman. "How did you learn all this?"

"From someone I met last night. I'd danced a long time and was tired, but music woke me. I've never heard music like that. I followed it, hoping that I could get the piper to join us, and since I was thinking about how I'd dance to his music, I started to dance as I turned over the steps. When I spun around, this woman—Elata's her name—was dancing, too, following me. She's beautiful, and a wonderful dancer, by the way.

"When the music stopped, she asked why I'd been crying. I told her about you and all the awful things the Amazon had done to me, calling her Pharetra, which was what somebody told me her name was. And she—this Elata—explained that she'd known both of them in the north, and that Pharetra was dead. Your slave had talked to her husband about it, and he had the Amazon kiss you."

We spoke a good deal more, she telling me much concerning a dancer's life that I will not set down here. She said that she loved me. I told her I could not marry her, or anyone, until I found my home; and that even after I found it, I might be in no position to marry. She said she wanted my love, not my property—this is a new idea for me, I think. At first she assumed that I forgot with every cup, and when I had proved that I remembered everything we had said in the market, that I recalled much that I do not—how the tall Amazon she calls Hippostizein had pushed her into some water, for example.