The Corn King and the Spring Queen (69 page)

He said: ‘What have I done? Why did he do that? Couldn't the child have waited and thought?' And then: ‘It is—it is a very horrible mess, Berris. I helped to get him on to a bed. All the time he was angry, hating us for trying to help him.'

Berris answered, rather hardly: ‘You taught him to be a Stoic, you taught him not to regard his body, Sphaeros. And now he seems to have thrown his body away very completely. Those beautiful eyes and straight temples of his!' he ended, suddenly furious at the waste, his anger at that mixing with his anger at the delay and danger to his love. Then he said: ‘I suppose you realise that Sosibios will be after the women and children now?'

Sphaeros turned rather white. He said: ‘I was afraid that might be so. Kleomenes should have known.'

‘Known—or cared. Yes,' said Berris Der. ‘But I've got to get Philylla, the widow of Panteus, away, and the two younger children.'

‘Why Philylla?' said Sphaeros, with an old man's finicky panic at someone else's perhaps dangerous idea. ‘Why not—'

‘Because I choose!' said Berris.

‘Because of Agiatis,' said Erif quickly.

Sphaeros seemed to understand that. ‘Tell me how I can help,' he said. ‘If there are any risks I can take—naturally, I should be most willing to die for them.'

‘You won't get the chance, worse luck,' said Berris grimly. Then Philylla came out again; her hands were washed, but there was a fleck of blood on the front of her dress.

Berris said: ‘Are the little ones ready to go?'

She said: ‘I'll bring them. But you must take them, Erif– you and Sphaeros. I must stay with Nikomedes now.'

‘You shan't!' said Berris, and caught her up to him and kissed her hard on the lips, regardless of Sphaeros, who stared, a little wearily, as though he had already seen too much that day.

She kissed him back once with an almost stinging violence, and then shoved him away with both hands. ‘No!' she said. ‘Take the two children. Take them back to Sparta some day. Tell them about the New Times. Tell them about their father and—and his friends. Only—don't make it too terrible, Erif. Little Gorgo dreams so. She ought to marry young—someone kind. Oh, Erif—Erif, my darling, I don't want to leave you yet!' And for a moment she ran into Erif's open arms and sobbed against her breasts and her hair was soft against Erif's neck and her body was soft and so much too easy to hurt. And Erif felt suddenly more like a sister than a friend, more like a mother than either. Sphaeros and Berris looked on, for the moment equally out of it. This was a woman's business, the she side of things suddenly showing itself to the men, a great fish leaping out of dark water. Abruptly, Berris felt his eyes prickly with tears. He knew that Philylla, his love, must do what she thought best. And Philylla raised herself from Erif's breast and shook out her dress and gasped and smiled and said: ‘I'll fetch them now. And good-bye.'

Only, then, there was a very loud knocking on the outer door and men's voices, and all at once the courtyard was full of soldiers, forty of King Ptolemy's soldiers and an officer, with written orders in his hand, and two women marched along with them, Leandris carrying her baby, and Neareta with her hands tied and her face red with anger and her dress torn as though she'd fought. Philylla said to the officer: ‘What do you want?' And the officer said he had orders from Sosibios to take out and execute the mother and children of the late Kleomenes and all the women who were connected with them.

‘So,' said Philylla, and she looked the officer up and down. Then he gave an order in a loud voice, and half the soldiers marched past her into the house. Sphaeros and Berris both at once rushed at the officer and began to argue. Another order. They were both violently arrested, their arms twisted behind them and their mouths gagged. Erif had said nothing. She stood very quietly beside Philylla and she saw Philylla's hands clench and quiver with rage, and her eyes, when they took Berris, struggling blindly against four of them, and kicked and twisted him into obedience, were like a growling chained bitch's when men take her puppies away.

It was then that Leandris said, sobbing, the thing she had obviously said over and over again already: ‘Don't kill my baby! Why need you kill my baby!' Erif went forward quickly to take it, but she was barred off with spears.

‘Saves trouble,' said the officer. ‘Clear out, the lot of you. Now then, you Scythians and you old dodderer, you Sphaeros, out you go or you'll be for it too!'

And at that all three of them were grabbed and gripped and frog-marched and pitched out of the house, and the door was clanged to after them. Berris got the gag out of his mouth and ran at that door and beat on it and yelled and turned again and seized hold of a man out of the crowd who had collected outside, and screamed at him to help beat down that door! But none of the crowd were in the least willing to do anything. They laughed or made helpfully helpless remarks, both to Berris and Erif and also to Sphaeros, who was appealing to them too, and they laughed still more when the two barbarians began to drop their Greek and shriek and shout at them in some fantastic and ridiculous language. Two red-faced Scythians and an old man, whose bottoms they'd seen kicked by the King's guards! It was as good as a show. And inside there—ah, there was a pack of women being killed!

I
T WAS NOON OF THE
next day at Canopus, and very hot; the room faced north to the sea through square openings, and naked fan-girls, alternately black and white, created an artificial breeze, cooled by the constantly watered marble of the steps. In the room itself there was a fountain playing through silver swan necks, and there was a silver statue of Dionysos resting against a rock, while birds clustered at his feet with offerings of flowers and berries. Ptolemy and Agathokles were both naked to the waist. In some ways that was a pity, as Ptolemy was beginning to get fat. There were little rolls and creases all over his body that Agathoklea found it amusing to run her fingers along. She and Metrotimé wore straight dresses of Egyptian muslin, butter-coloured and completely transparent. Nobody ate much, but they drank snow-cooled wine and dabbled their fingers in the fountain and picked at an olive or two and a few nuts. ‘When do you expect him?' said Agathoklea at last.

Ptolemy smiled and said nothing, but her brother answered: ‘Kottalos? Any time. Sosibios will have sent him off at dawn.' Then he too was silent and smiling a little and breathing rather fast.

Metrotimé said: ‘And after that we shall be sure it has happened.' And she stared in front of her between the two men.

‘We're sure now,' said Agathokles, ‘when Sosibios says a thing of this kind has been done—!'

‘Dear Sosibios,' said Agathoklea mechanically, ‘how well he manages everything!'

‘I am not sure it was supremely good management,' her brother said, ‘to have Kleomenes running amuck in the streets like a mad elephant. It argues perhaps a lack of finesse, of political foresight. I had ventured to warn him myself once or twice, but there—I'm not a general!' He glanced at Ptolemy. But the Divine King was squeezing and rolling a piece of new bread in one hand, and looking towards the door. Agathokles went on: ‘And not very subtle to make amends by simply killing the women.'

‘And the children,' said Ptolemy, in a sudden whisper, that showed he had been listening, after all, ‘and the eldest son!'

Agathoklea glanced at Metrotimé; they both remembered the episode with Nikomedes. ‘Try this Thera wine, dearest,' said Agathoklea; ‘it's stronger. You're looking pale.'

Then there were quick footsteps and an officer in armour came in and saluted. He was the man Erif and Berris had seen in the courtyard of the old Queen's house. ‘Ah,' said Ptolemy, stretching out a hand, ‘ah, my dear Kottalos. You've come all the way from Alexandria?'

‘At your Divine Majesty's command,' said the man, ‘to report how—'

‘But sit down, sit down,' interrupted Ptolemy, ‘and take your armour off. Yes, and a cup of wine before you start your report. Yes, first. Positively, you make me sweat, you look so hot!'

The man saluted again and sat down nervously on the edge of the fountain. Agathoklea went to help him to unbuckle his breastplate. ‘Your Divine Majesty wished to know—' he began.

But Ptolemy interrupted again: ‘You are sure you are comfortable there, Kottalos? How did you come, by horse or camel?'

‘On horseback, your Majesty. My report—'

‘And no accidents on the road? Nothing to be seen?' The others stared and wondered what their Divine Ruler thought he was doing. Agathokles made faces vaguely in the direction of the officer.

But Kottalos had a firm notion of his duty; Sosibios had given him his orders. He looked away from Agathoklea and Metrotimé, whose clothes embarrassed him, and went on sternly with his story. ‘I took my men to the house, your Divine Majesty. There was no opposition there, and there appeared to be no signs of discontent or hostility in the streets. I had arrested two of the women already, widows of the rebels, and brought them with me. I was met in the courtyard by one of the other women.'

‘Which one?' said Metrotimé quickly.

‘The widow of Panteus, I was told.'

‘Ah, Philylla. Erif Der's friend.'

‘There were also the philosopher Sphaeros, the Scythian sculptor and the Scythian woman.'

‘And what did you do to them?' Metrotimé asked, leaning forward with a rather curious smile, and swilling the wine round in her cup.

‘Them? Oh, I—' He hesitated, looking from Metrotimé to the others. ‘They—mm—went. It was no place for strangers. I had the house searched and the women and children brought out. They came quietly. I decided that the execution should take place in the furthest yard, beyond the store-houses and the vegetable plots, as it is more remote from the street, in case of any noise. This woman I mentioned, the widow of Panteus, helped the old Queen along and talked to her. A very fine-looking young woman, as these Dorian women go.'

The King said suddenly: ‘And the children? My dear Kottalos, what we are hoping for is detail. Vivid detail.'

Kottalos frowned. He was not at all a sensitive man, but he disliked thinking of that. However, kings must have what they want. ‘The smallest child of the lot did not, probably, quite realise, but she clung to her grandmother or to this other woman. The second boy tried to fight my soldiers
and had to be tied up; after that he cried a good deal. It was an unpleasant duty. The eldest boy had to be helped along. He was too much hurt to go by himself.'

‘Hurt?' said Ptolemy, with a queer sort of grunt, and he and the two women all stirred and moved their hands and feet a little.

‘Yes, your Divine Majesty,' said Kottalos. ‘He had attempted to commit suicide by jumping off the roof earlier in the evening.'

‘I did not know that,' said Ptolemy. ‘Sosibios had not thought it worth mentioning. No. Off the roof, you say. Walking on to a gulf of air. And he was hurt—where?'

‘His head mostly, your Divine Majesty. It had been bandaged up. He said nothing, I believe, or only in whispers. This woman I spoke of went to him once or twice. I allowed that. I am not sure how much he knew of what was happening. His eyes were blurred.'

‘His eyes, his eyes,' said King Ptolemy, and for a few moments his body seemed to stretch and relax rhythmically, slower than breathing.

Kottalos went on: ‘We came to the further yard, and I made my arrangements. The men with the swords came out of the ranks. Then the old Queen asked, with a certain dignity, to be killed first.'

‘And was she?' said Metrotimé.

‘No. I had my orders. The children were killed first.'

‘The children first,' said Ptolemy. ‘Tell me more about that. Did they struggle, Kottalos?'

‘Certainly not, your Divine Majesty. My executioners are too competent. Only one stroke was needed for each. Then we executed the Queen.'

‘But did no one say anything?'

‘Yes, your Divine Majesty. The Queen said: “Oh, children, where have you gone?” None of the women were violent. It was all—yes, if I may say so, it was a credit to every one concerned. One or two of them cried, especially a youngish woman with an infant, one of the widows; however, when it came to her turn there was no special unpleasantness. The infant was also despatched. That other woman, Panteus' widow, was most helpful. She said nothing and did not appear disturbed, but she looked after the others one by one, laying them out decently, so that we
had practically nothing to do afterwards. A great relief, when dealing with the other sex. After the rest were all executed, she asked permission to withdraw a little for her own execution. I saw no reason to refuse this, so they went rather further from the rest of the soldiers. She then smoothed out her dress and wrapped it tightly about her, so that she would be certain to fall with decency, thus giving no trouble to anyone after she was executed. A most helpful woman.'

Kottalos ended there suddenly, with a definite and uncomfortable feeling that his account of yesterday evening had left out something important: for the life of him he could not tell what. But he was certain he would never be able to arrive at it, especially to the Divine King. Perhaps, he thought, one day later on, in a year or two, talking it over with some friend, or a sympathetic mistress—He had, as a matter of fact, been considerably disturbed and moved by one or two episodes. But these four only took it as so much juicy sausage-meat. He looked round. No! The Ionian was moved too. She was dabbing at her eyes.

‘But surely you have more to tell us, Kottalos? Drink and go on. I have been waiting for this all the morning.'

‘Well—' said Kottalos, and wriggled uncomfortably. ‘Well, your Divine Majesty, I'll try. It was almost dark before the thing was quite finished. Obeying instructions I had the bodies removed at night and burnt, decently but unobtrusively. There was only a very small crowd, and that not at all hostile, so I did not risk unpleasantness by dispersing it. The bodies of the other rebels are still awaiting your Divine Majesty's orders.'

‘Are they?' said Ptolemy slowly. ‘Are they indeed? But Nikomedes is dust and ashes now, dry ashes scattered on the wind. Unpossessed. Ungarlanded.'

‘If I had known you had wished—' Kottalos began nervously, but Agathokles motioned him to silence.

The King sank into a queer brooding; the fan-girls walked up and down outside on silent feet. At last Ptolemy raised his head and spoke again: ‘So it was Sosibios in the end who made the sacrifice. Not I. And I do not know what Sosibios had in his heart. I never know that. Perhaps he was not thinking of the God. Or did the boy sacrifice himself? Did he leap off the cliff of the house as Gods
have leapt into the air and vanished in fire? There is nothing left for me to sacrifice.' And tears began to roll out of his eyes and down his cheeks, down his chest and quivering, convulsed belly.

Agathokles' face twisted and he reached out a hand to the King and said softly: ‘There are always the other bodies. They are waiting for you to act. Waiting very quietly and obediently.'

Ptolemy said ‘Yes,' and his hands began to pull to pieces a slice of the new bread. He thought in violent flashes of Kleomenes; of the strength of his Spartan arms, which he had never felt crushing him; of the straight and wounded look in his eyes; of his voice which had not asked for mercy; the other King. He looked up at Kottalos and said sharply: ‘My orders are that the body of the rebel Kleomenes is flayed and impaled at the cross-roads beyond the Sun Gate on a stake of pine-wood. Dismiss.'

Very hastily Kottalos saluted, picked up his helmet and breast-plate and disappeared out of the room. It would be capital to get back to Alexandria that same day, and, if possible, get drunk in the evening. One needed something to take the taste of the Divine King out of one's mouth.

Ptolemy smiled and looked round at his friends. ‘That will end it nicely,' he said. ‘Dearest Metrotimé, what are you writing?' For Metrotimé was scribbling something on tablets at her knee.

‘Do let me see, darling!' said Agathoklea. ‘Or isn't it proper?' And she giggled with relief.

‘It's quite proper,' said Metrotimé, ‘but I haven't finished it. And I don't think I ever shall.'

‘Why not?'

‘Oh, it's not interesting or amusing. An old-fashioned kind of poem. Or might have been going to be. But this is all there is to it:

But I oughtn't to write poems about rebels, even bad poems,
ought I!' She laughed and made one movement with her thumb and rubbed it all out.

Ptolemy leaned forward and their eyes met, as they sometimes did, across the eyes of the other two. ‘When did you see him?' asked Ptolemy.

But Metrotimé only laughed again and began to tell a new story of marital tit-for-tat which she had heard from her Egyptian maid the day before. And they all started eating and drinking and being an amusing party.

Later they had in a flute-player and two dancing dwarfs with fat childish noses and cheeks. They laughed and teased the dwarfs, especially Agathokles, who pinched and made faces at the male one till he screamed. And then the divine Princess Arsinoë was announced and came in, followed at a discreet distance by four of her ladies. She was a tall, rather fierce-looking girl with yellow hair under a fillet of silver leaves—a real Macedonian princess. They all rose to greet her, but she disregarded every one except her brother. She said: ‘I have heard the news from Alexandria. Now that those Spartan boys are dead, there is no reason why I should not have Sphaeros of Borysthenes for my tutor. When can he start?'

Ptolemy looked at her with his usual dislike. She had no mysteries, nothing of the goddess; she was a tough mortal and there were freckles on her arms. However, there seemed no reason to refuse this. ‘He can come in a few days,' Ptolemy said. ‘Make a note to send for him, Agathokles.'

Metrotimé said: ‘I expect he will be in no mood to teach for a few days, divine Arsinoë. He is not so young as he was and all this will have—upset him.'

‘What's the use of being a Stoic if he can't stand that!' said the princess. ‘Upset! If he is, I'll tell him what I think of him and his philosophy.' And then scornfully and bitterly at her brother: ‘He's got to teach me to stand you!' And she turned and went out.

Ptolemy flushed deep red and then paled slowly. Agathokles licked his lips. ‘It will be extremely interesting for you, later on, taming our divine little scratch-cat. A husband—and his friends—is usually able to humble a wife who starts with her nose in the air. Yes, Arsinoë tamed will have quite a relish.' And he laughed, and Agathoklea laughed, lying back, her breasts shaking merrily.

The conversation turned again to this and that, the other news of Alexandria. An Indian priest had wandered there lately; he could stick knives into himself. They must have him over. Trade was at its best; the great harbour crammed and magnificent with shipping. Someone had said that one of the latest arrivals was a biggish boat from the north with rather curious painted sails. There were rumours of rare furs aboard—and how Agathoklea loved a nice fur!—and hemp tablets to smoulder on charcoal and make an atmosphere conducive to dreams, and smoked salmon and caviare, and pale northern amber. The ship had come from some place with a ridiculous name. No, not Olbia or Panticapaeum or Tyras. What was it? Oh yes, Marob.