Hero for Hire (19 page)

The fisherman transferred some of his gratitude to me when I plucked out the old mast and stepped the new one into the braces under the deck. This saved us all the bother of rigging winches and tackles to swing it down off the cliff. I don’t deny the tree was heavy but ever since my meeting with Aphrodite, I had an unusual amount of energy. I only hoped it would last until Troezen.

After a little more work, the boat was ready to sail. They agreed to take us back to Mykonos where we’d find another ship to travel onward. How we were going to pay for it was in the lap of the Gods, one in particular. The wind filled the sail as soon as the tide lifted us off the sandbar. It blew without change or pause in the right direction.

In exchange for our passage, Phandros decided to teach the boy, Milos, to write his own name and that of his father. As there was nothing to drink on board, it helped to pass the time. The boy, about twelve, went from being a shy, frightened youth to one always underfoot, artlessly confiding. When he completed his name for the first time, he crowed.

“Clever boy,” I said, applauding.

“Not clever enough,” his father said. “The wisest man avoids troubles. He seems to want to hunt it out and embrace it. It’s the excitement, I suppose.”

“Sometimes even the wisest man finds trouble on his doorstep and cannot step around,” Phandros said. “Then there is my friend, who goes to find other people’s troubles.”

“And gets paid for it,” I added.

“Where is your fee from your last job?” he asked, grinning.

“You have work in Mykonos?” the captain asked.

“Beyond that. Why?”

“Only that I can feel you pushing this little Cythereia of mine all the time. We have a wind that a home-bound sailor dreams of and yet you are urging her onwards as though a moment’s delay is unbearable. I wondered if it was work. If not, it must be a woman.”

“We’ll be there soon?”

“You will see the island before the sun sets tonight.”

He was as good as his word. This time, though, I watched the shore growing closer from the safety of the waist. Not least among my grievances against Jori was the unfair way he'd jerked me overboard by merely turning the tiller.

Phandros joined me there. “Have we lost too much time, do you think?”

“Less than we would have lost if we’d had to build our own damn boat.”

“True. There was one thing I wanted to say...you do know it’s just a bird, right? The harpy. If it were a woman, I would understand your anxiety. But this is like running into a burning building to save an almond.”

“You don’t have to come along.”

“No, I don’t. But I probably will.”

I turned around, leaning my elbows on the railing. “Why are you here, Phandros? Why did you leave your comfy place at King Temas’ right hand to follow me?”

With a grimace, he acknowledged the justice of my question. “Orders, I suppose, is as good a word as any.”

“Temas gave you orders?”

“I wish. No, it was a dream.”

“Oh, yeah, I know about dreams.”

“In this one, I was walking along the road to Athens. I’ve only been there once, when I was quite young, but I recognized it by the hermai marking the miles.” He scratched his beard. “You have lived there for some time, I think. Why are they carved only with Hermes’ head and genitals? Why not the whole body?”

“I don’t know. Budget cuts?”

He laughed shortly. “Anyway, there I was trudging along when one of them spoke to me. I did not stop. I could not. Then the next one spoke, taking up the words where the other one had left off. And the next, and the next.”

“What did they say?”

Phandros hesitated, his eyes shifting. “Much of it was unclear or referred to the past. But what I do remember most clearly was the god telling me to turn around and go with you. As soon as I turned, the voices stopped. But each of them nodded approvingly as I passed. It was creepy.” He sighed. “After that, what else could I do?”

“We are puppets in their hands...sometimes.”

“Then it is for the Gods that you are seeking this harpy?”

“No, that’s a side issue. I’m seeking her because I betrayed her. She trusted me and I used her trust to capture her, knowing that once I sold her to King Pavlos she would die. That is not something I want to live with forever. So I’m going to redeem my honor.”

“Oh, then I understand. I still think it’s a little fanciful. Well, who cares what I think?"

"You have a point," I conceded. "It does seem like folly even to me. But you aren't the only one under orders."

"Oh?" One eyebrow crawled high.

"You are a learned man. What do you know about the Goddess of Discord?"

"Eris?" He gazed off at the white buildings of the island, just now visible above the sea. "She is popularly considered to be a daughter of the Void for she is certainly not known to be an Olympian. Some say she is a daughter or a sister of Ares but I believe that is a mistranslation of an ancient oracles' prophecy. We know, however, that she came from the time before Kronos was destroyed by the Father of the Gods. She delights in conflict and quarrels."

"She said something about that."

"She? Who?"

"A goddess I met on Telemenos."

Phandros took a step back as though unsure whether to flee from a madman's ravings. "Which goddess?"

"Never mind. I'll tell you instead what happened in the Temple of Artemis on Leros."

He fell to stroking his beard and, at the end of my recital, including my chat with Eurytos, pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You say she talked about opening some gates?"

"You'd think I'd remember a bit more clearly what a three-faced thirty-foot tall woman said but I was a little freaked out at the time."

"Justifiably, I'd say."

"Thanks."

"There is much food for thought. I don't believe Eris is the spirit that moved that statue, or appeared to speak through the dead. The tossing of a Golden Apple or the stirring up of unease between lovers, yes, that she might do and often has. But this is plots and plans and a desire to rule the Earth."

"Someone put Eris up to it, someone with an interest in causing as much death and destruction as possible," I said. "If it were Hades...."

"Hades has power enough surely."

"One would think. And generals enough at his command. He doesn't need to recruit me. Besides, Eurytos spoke of a Dark Queen, a 'She'."

"She...I have heard much evil of the Queen of Troezan but a queen cannot command a goddess to do her bidding. Not without coming to a sticky end."

I stared down into the jewel-bright sea, watching some fish jump through our bow wave. So many mysteries in this world, some from the Gods, some of men, some that belonged to neither of us. I sighed and turned to speak my thought to Phandros. But his eyes were closed and his lips moved as though in earnest prayer. As though he felt my scrutiny, he glanced at me and said, "Did she say 'gates' or 'doors', this evil thing in the temple?"

"Doors, I think."

"Doors." He closed his eyes again, mumbling. I thought of the shell-game hucksters in the marketplace, swiftly shifting shells from hand to hand, daring passersby to risk a coin or two on where a pea was hidden. Phandros' thoughts must move like the blurring hands of a games-man.

"Seventeen...chaos...army...darkness. Hades but not Hades...." His voice was low, muffled, like a man talking in his sleep. Then he began to repeat the names of cities, starting with Leros and Troezan. Halfway through, he was watching me. I blinked when he said, "Hattusa...."

"That's Hittite," I said.

"Still, there is a gate to the Underworld there. You seem to know the name."

"A friend of mine -- well, we're in the same line of work -- told me that he'd been hired to take care of a monster by the local king. Some kind of a lava-beast which is strange as I never heard there was a volcano around there."

"Any other cities having those kind of problems?"

"Always. But they seem more numerous nowadays."

"Discord taken to a greater scale. That fits." He shut his eyes again and kept them closed until the fisherman came forward to tell us we'd be berthing before long.

Phandros thanked him then turned to me. A frown carved deep lines between his brows. "How strong are you really, Eno?"

"Strong enough."

"Oh, I know you can lift things and fight things and can carry the weight of the world if need be. But how strong are you in yourself?"

"I don't understand," I said, waiting for the punch line.

"I wish I did as well. What do you think would happen if all seventeen gates to Hades were opened, from the inside?"

"Hell on Earth? But that can't happen. Can it?"

"I hope not. But think of what you have told me. You are not a madman and therefore I must accept what you have said though it frightens me, frightens me badly."

"Me too."

"You say that, but I know you are jesting. This 'She' will not kill you so long as she thinks you could become her creature. But what use would such a one have for me? Or any of the weak things of this earth."

"What do you know?" I asked. "What do you suspect?"

Despite the heat of the day, he shivered. "Terrors beyond what you have already seen. Names I dare not pronounce. Add what you have said to what I have witnessed on Leros...no. No, I cannot say more now. I will study upon these things."

I could see he would not say more than he thought wise. I wished I had studied more of these matters but there was always a living to earn which left little time for anything beyond practical matters. "Don't take too long. I can't fight what I don't understand."

He nodded gravely. "I will help you all I can. But, as a learned man, I must warn you, Eno. When the Gods take this much interest in a mortal, it usually ends badly for the mortal.”

Milos had been sorry to see us go but I surprised a trace of relief on his father’s face. In his first, teary-eyed gratitude, he’d promised a lot and now felt quite relieved that we weren’t demanding he follow through. I didn’t want all his possessions and certainly not his first-born son.

We had further proof, if any was needed, of the Goddess’ interest before we’d gone fifty feet past the pier. Mykonos is in a very useful spot, halfway between Troy and the main body of Greece. Since the war began, it had gone from being a small port to a big one. Building went on all day and well into the night. Ships from every corner of the world stopped there now, bringing useful goods, exotic wonders, pilgrims, and the businessmen who made fortunes from all these things.

“Phandros? Phandros, by all that’s holy!”

A man, large even by my standards, had Phandros by the shoulders, gazing into his face with wonder. Before Phandros could react, the stranger threw his arms around him and lifted him clear off the ground. Heedless of grinning passersby, Phandros kicked his feet like an infant.

“Skander?” he squeezed out.

“Look at you!” the stranger exclaimed. “Still skinny as a beanpole!” He slapped his own generous belly. “Can’t say the same of me, what ho?”

“I can’t believe it’s you, not at all.” There were tears in Phandros’ eyes and not just from having the breath pressed out of his body.

“They do say if you wait on the Mykonosian docks long enough, you’ll see everyone you ever knew. And here you are!”

“But what are you doing here, Skander?”

The big man waved a plump hand, adorned by several heavy golden rings, in the direction of the docks. “I own those ships and others besides. I’ve rented half a dozen penteconters to the...but hush for that!”

He put his hands on wide hips and laughed, his belly shaking under his long chiton, a chlamys of deep maroon dye tossed over his shoulder. His hair, longer in the back than in the front, was confined by a golden fillet and, even from several feet away, I could smell the expensive musk he used to perfume it. A black ring-beard hedged his full face, accented by straight brows and small, sharp eyes that contrasted with his florid personality.

Phandros was almost too dazed to introduce me. Skander looked me up and down. “I’ve heard of you! Didn’t you do some work for Scambos of Olympia not too long ago?”

“Yes, I recovered an ivory throne that he was having made for Pharaoh Ramses.”

“Forgive me! I always check such things. You wouldn’t credit the number of times someone has lied to me. Er, well, perhaps you would. Anyway, he spoke very highly of you...when we were still speaking, that is. Had a little falling out over a cargo of vinegar. Soured our relations!”

Skander of Mykonos is the only man I ever met who laughed “ho, ho, ho.”

Nothing would content him but that we accompany him to his villa, sitting upon a hillside overlooking the shipping lanes. Skander made room in his litter for Phandros. I glanced at his bearers, sturdy fellows, and declared that I preferred to walk.

“After being cooped up on a small boat, I’d like the chance to get in a little exercise.”

The bearers rolled thankful eyes toward heaven. Skandar laughed. “Been on a boat, have you? Better you than me.”

“But you own ships,” Phandros said.

“Own, yes. Visit, certainly. Travel on, never! Mykonos is world enough for me. Anyone wants to talk to me comes to me. Enough about all that! Tell me, my old friend, what brings you to this island?”

From Skander’s manner, I would have guessed he’d let Phandros get out half a dozen words before interrupting with some tale of his own. In this, I misjudged him. He drew out Phandros and listened his halting catalog of positions gained and lost, wanderings, refuges and departures as though ten thousand gold minae depended on his complete attention.

“Well, I can see why you are so thin; you must never sit down! Not fear of that now, though. Not as my guest!”

Compared to the villa of Skandar, the Palace at Leros was a hut for the winter forage of goats.

A butler so proud one would think he was a master, not a slave, showed us to a large, airy chamber with a view of the sea. The walls were frescoed with beautiful images of nymphs of the sea playing some game with a large yellow ball. I was pretty sure it was an allegory with a dense, religious meaning. I turned to Phandros, to invite him to explain it.

He dropped heavily onto one of the bed. “I never thought I’d see him again. It brings it all back to me.”

“All what?”

“Everything. The barracks, the beatings, the constant shouting, the drilling, the drilling, the drilling....”

“Sparta....”

He hushed me, panicked, as though the word was a spike in his ear. “People think there’s something noble about the way they train their sons. But it’s horrible. Horrible. I can’t recall one happy moment in my youth. I was always, always so afraid and so desperate not to show it. You can’t understand that, I imagine.”

“Oh, can’t I?” I didn’t want to interrupt the flow of his thought, so I said it to myself.

“There are always a few who can’t stand it, who try to flee. They are caught and used as an example....” He shuddered deeply. Then he rubbed his face, thoroughly, as though upon awakening from a nightmare. I knew he was dying for a drink.

“There were four of us. Skander was the biggest and the toughest. They had great hopes of him. They held him up as an example to us all. And he hated it, just as much as we did, the weaklings, the dreamers like me. Those of us who didn’t show our weaknesses at birth, so we weren’t exposed on a hill. How often did I wish I had been! My mother....”

“What happened?” I said quietly.

“Skander did it, planned the whole thing. They hunted us, of course. We didn’t rest for three days or nights. We were half-starved anyway; withholding food was a common punishment. Charillos dropped dead when we were within an hour’s walk of our goal. We didn’t even stop to bury him. The three of us got away, Skander carrying Nikros on his back. We got away....”

“Yes, you got away.” But had he really escaped?

Stepping out, I asked a passing manservant for some wine. It came, pale straw like a child’s hair, but Phandros shook his head, even as he licked his dry lips. “I won’t drink again until we are finished with what we have to do. I swear it and this time, I mean it.”

He kept to that even through the banquet that followed our baths. A banquet seemed to be Skandar’s normal evening meal. Whatever privations he had suffered as a boy soldier in Sparta, he was making up for it now with plenty. Four husky boys dined with us, in whose faces I could trace their father’s heritage. In size, any one of them would have been an asset to a battalion, even the one sniffing listlessly at a white lily throughout the meal.

When the honey cakes and perfectly ripened fruit were served, Skandar clapped his hands and a tumbling troop of children came in, nurses carrying the smallest ones. I counted seventeen in all, from the oldest in his mid-twenties down to a pair of babes-in-arms, one of several sets of twins.

“You haven’t been wasting your time.” Phandros had emerged from his brooding somewhere between the fish course and the meat, drawn out by his friend's unceasing merriment.

“No, indeed. Of course, I am fortunate in my wife. A peerless housewife, a queen among women! If it were not for her, I would be a penniless fool still working as a stevedore in the shipyard. But Aphrodite sent this flower of her sex to marry me.”

“They met on the causeway,” the lily-sniffing one said and gave a grin that belied his lackadaisical attitude on the couch. Most young men do not loll in the presence of their elders but it was obvious Skander hadn’t the heart to be meticulous about such things.

“It was more romantic than that,” the huskiest brother put in. “She saw him when her father stopped by the yard to give some orders. She peered out from the curtains and saw him like a young Hercules among the weedier folk.”

“Stop them, somebody,” said the oldest of them. “Before they start reciting love poetry by the light of the silvery mo-o-o-o-n!”

That, apparently, was the signal for a wrestling match. It was all in fun but when one of the couches broke a leg under the combined weight of the four boys, and the smaller children started wailing, Skander clapped his hands and they all trooped out again, the nursemaids making the twins wave bye-bye with fat fists.

The oldest boys bowed to their father and promised to mend the couch in the morning. “Nonsense...it was old. Take it to Pelemaeus to mend and then give it to him with my compliments and a few obols from you four. That will teach you, rascals!”

When the noise and the litter were removed, Skander slipped off the fillet he wore on his head and rubbed his scalp vigorously. “Now for some serious drinking!”

Skander really was a most excellent host. When he saw that Phandros had refused the decanter more than once, he had a quiet word with his butler. That dour individual’s eyebrows raised but he bowed deeply. Soon he brought a new pitcher, poured some of the beverage into a wide-mouthed goblet and offered it to Phandros. “An invention of my own, good sir. The juice of Bergamot oranges, unfermented grape juice and the pressings of a few flowers and herbs. I trust you will find it palatable.”

Phandros’ nose twitched and he consented to try a sip. I don’t know what was in it besides what the man said, but Phandros looked increasingly cheerful as the evening wore on. Finally he drew together all his courage and asked a favor.

“Don’t hesitate, my dear soul! Nothing is too much for the friend of my youth!”

“We need to take ship for Troezen as soon as humanly possible. It’s life or death for one very dear to my friend here.”

“Ha!” Skander pushed the footed decanted closer to me. “I thought I saw anxiety seated on your brow. A fair maiden, is it? She is promised to another and you wish to appear at the wedding, seize her, and ride off? A noble deed, worthy of many of our greatest heroes! A ship, though, a ship....” He scratched his ring-beard thoughtfully.

A raised finger brought his man over. “Tell my son Charillos to attend me.”

Phandros spilled his drink. “What...what name did you say?”

The boy came in with haste, wiping his mouth. A few stray crumbs from his snack escaped down his front. It had been, after all, at least half an hour since he’d eaten with us.

“My son, go at once to the docks. Tell the master of the
Doris
that his departure for Troezen is put forward two days. He’s to round up his crew from the stews and toss-pots and have them ready for sailing at...is dawn soon enough?” he asked me. I nodded, stunned by the coincidence, if coincidence it was.

“Dawn. If he has to leave half the cargo it matters not, but tell him that he’d better leave no more than that. Oh, and he should prepare a cabin for two special passengers.”

“Yes, father.”

“My boy,” Phandros said, his voice quavering like an old man's. “Tell me, what is your name?”

“Charillos, honored sir. How may I serve you?”

“Nothing, nothing. A good name...a very good name.”

“Go now, my son. Take your brothers, Phandros and Nikros with you. Whoever gets there first will win this ring from me.” He drew off a ring, a ruby flashing darkly from a golden mount.

Charillos shook his head. “We’ll do it for the love of the competition.” He kissed his father’s hand and was gone.

“You named them....” Phandros’ voice choked. The butler filled his goblet with heavy wine and Phandros drained it off in a gulp, not even realizing what it was.

“Yes, I named my sons for the bravest men I’d ever known.”

“But....”

Skander leaned back on his elbow. “Men so brave they trusted me to lead them, though I was untested and untried. They followed me in pursuit of freedom, the only treasure worth having. They listened to my plans and, though they knew the price for failure, not one betrayed the others. Though it led to death for one of our number, still they did not falter. Fate lead us on separate paths but I could never forget them. How little I have done to honor them. How much more I wish I could still do.”

Phandros was too overcome to speak, tears dampening his beard.

Skander sighed and shifted his weight, his couch creaking. “As soon as I could afford it, I sent an expedition to the Spartan and Argonian border with orders to find our friend's poor body. I knew it to be hopeless, of course; too many years had rolled on. So I had them set up a monument, an obelisk of marble from the Northern peninsula, and a poem inscribed on the side. I had a real bard from Athens write it. My sons have memorized it. They say now that when boys flee from Sparta...and they still do, make no mistake...they know when they reach Charillos’ Dagger, they are safe.” He chuckled deeply. “The Spartans have knocked it down twice but I am rich enough to rebuild it a thousand times!"

* * *

That butler had, I must admit, good reasons for his pride. Before we retired, he had arranged for a barber to come for me, organized another bath, and even offered a girl, guaranteed clean, if required. I returned a civil ‘no’ and Phandros was already snoring.

Hearing the plaster-rattling sounds with an expression of austere pain, the butler showed me to another room. “I have taken the liberty of packing a change of clothing for you both, sir, as you had no luggage. It will be the pleasure of the household to send you with a basket of supplies as well. Sailors have such a limited diet.”