Of Merchants & Heros (40 page)

Titus nodded. ‘Of course. I expect he has much on his mind.’ We were walking in the pleasant walled garden of one of Nikaia’s leading men, where he was staying as a guest. There was an ancient vine growing up over the walkway, and orange trees, and, further off, a row of stately cypresses, with the mountains of Phokis rising up behind. ‘Well, anyway, it is good to see you, Marcus,’ he said after a short pause. ‘Tell me, what did you make of Phaineas?’

I thought again of the staring Aitolian. He had been wearing a heavy dark-blue cloak festooned with ornament: encrusted brooches; rings; pendants on thick chains that hung one on top of the other around his neck.

‘He looked like a pirate,’ I said. ‘And why was he staring at me?’

Titus laughed. ‘He does that to everyone; you’ll get used to it. It’s his eyes: he can’t see unless things are close up.’

‘A strange choice for a general then.’

‘Yes indeed, though I am told he leaves the fighting to others. But you’re right, he looks like a brigand, and that is what he is. All the Aitolians are, just as men say. They’re good horsemen, and tough as old vinestock, and they know the passes between Epeiros and Macedon better than anyone else. But they can’t be trusted. They’re barbarians at heart, and whatever vows and promises they make, they keep them only so long as it suits them.’

‘As bad as that?’

He shrugged. ‘They need to be watched. As for Phaineas, he was Philip’s ally until last year. Then he decided he had more to gain by switching sides.’

‘A man of honour then?’ I said dryly.

‘Indeed. Well, the Greeks are not suspicious of their Aitolian cousins for nothing. But they have been useful, and in war one cannot always choose one’s allies.’

Two days later, Philip arrived, by sea, accompanied by a small fleet of warships.

Everyone looked on from the shore. But it was not Philip I was staring at as the cutter drew in to the shallows; for Dikaiarchos was standing next to him, dressed in a thick quilted coat studded with bronze, his wild, blond hair bleached from a summer of campaigning, his quick amused fox’s eyes taking in the scene around him, and his mouth under his fair beard twisted in a wry grin.

The sight of him kindled all the rage that lay buried in my heart.

I filled my lungs with the cool autumn air and tried to calm myself. I told myself I should have guessed he would be here. But in my rush from Athens I had not considered it.

The cutter slowed. I saw Philip incline his head towards the shore and say something. Dikaiarchos grinned his rakish broad-toothed grin, and placing a hand on Philip’s shoulder said something in answer, at which they both laughed merrily, like two boys out on a fishing trip, without a care in the world.

I realized Titus had spoken to me and looked round.

‘Who is the one with the fair hair?’ he said again. ‘Do you know him?’

‘That is Dikaiarchos,’ I said.

Titus turned and looked. As for me, I realized as his name issued from my lips that I had uttered it no more than a handful of times in my whole life, this man who filled my bad dreams, who burned my very soul.

‘So that is the man,’ said Titus, considering him. And after that there was no time for talking. The cutter drew up till it was some fifteen paces from the shore, leaving the warships standing at anchor further out in the bay. Philip dropped his arm, and at this signal the rowers backed their oars and brought the craft to a halt.

There was a silence, broken only by the lapping of the ripples on the shore, and the calling sea-birds.

‘Will you not come ashore?’ called Titus after a few moments.

His voice echoed off the face of the surrounding rocks.

Philip said something to Dikaiarchos, then turned and called, ‘I think not.’

There was murmuring from those around me.

Titus spread his arms. ‘There are no troops here, as you can see, so who are you afraid of?’

Philip took a step forward. He was wearing a short horseman’s riding-tunic, and around his head a gold fillet, sign of kingship. ‘I am afraid of no one,’ he declared. ‘But I do not trust those men standing with you.’ He jabbed his finger at Phaineas, adding, ‘Especially
him
.

He is probably hiding a dagger in his cloak. He is an Aitolian, after all.’

Phaineas let out a hiss of indignation. Titus called out across the water, ‘But surely, King Philip, this danger is the same for all.’

‘Not so,’ replied Philip. ‘For if I killed Phaineas, there are a thousand Aitolians to take his place; but if he killed me, there is no one to take mine.’

‘This is outrageous!’ cried Phaineas. ‘I will not stand here and listen to these insults!’

Philip grinned at him. ‘Leave then.’

Titus took a step forward. ‘King Philip, you have asked for this conference. Now I have come as you requested. What is it you wish to discuss?’

‘I am here to listen to you,’ said Philip.

‘How so?’

‘Rome claims it wants peace. Very well. Let there be peace. What are your terms?’

‘You know my terms.’

Philip cocked his head.

‘He is wasting our time,’ muttered Phaineas.

Titus gestured for him to be quiet, then called out across the water, ‘Very well, the terms are these: withdraw your armies from Thessaly and Epeiros; remove your garrisons from Korinth and Argos and the other Greek cities. All this you know. For the rest, you have made war also on our allies, and they must notify you what reparations they seek.’

The delegates began to chatter, like women at the well.

Dionysodoros, Attalos’s man, demanded the return of stolen warships and their crews, and the restoration of the sacred groves Philip had destroyed at Pergamon. Akesimbrotos called for Philip to hand over the Rhodian sea-ports occupied by Macedon, and for the freeing of Abydos. Then Phaineas came shoving up between them and cried, ‘Look at him! He smiles! He plays with us.’

Philip raised his brows. ‘Do you know my private mind now, Phaineas? Have you suddenly developed insight?’ He laughed and threw a grin at Dikaiarchos.

‘You are trying to divide us!’ Phaineas yelled back, furious.

‘Yet,’ said Philip, drawing down his black brows in mock- puzzlement, ‘so far it is only you and your friends who have spoken.

Could it be that you are already divided?’

Phaineas, momentarily lost for words, glared blinking at the water. Then he cried, ‘You are not man enough to face us in open battle, so you hide behind city walls and sell civilians into slavery.

Behold! You are too afraid even to step onto the shore.’

Philip turned to Dikaiarchos. ‘Why, listen,’ he said dryly, ‘an Aitolian accuses me of dishonour! Some historian should write it down, so that our grandchildren may hear of it and marvel.’

He snapped his fingers at the rowers. They took up their oars and brought the cutter closer to the shore. ‘I am the King of Macedon. It is for me to determine how the Macedonians wage war, not some Aitolian turncoat.’

‘Why do we waste our time here?’ cried Phaineas. Then, jabbing at Philip, ‘I can see what you are trying to do!’

‘Oh,’ said Philip with a broad grin. ‘It seems to me you can’t
see
anything at all. Are you pointing at me, or at that clump of myrtle?’

‘Please, gentlemen,’ said Titus.

‘You should watch yourself,’ said Philip with a nod. ‘Aitolians have difficulty understanding what friendship means. They say they are your allies, and then, when you turn your back, they plant the knife. So beware, Titus. Phaineas is standing behind you.’ He laughed, and continued, ‘Nevertheless, since you ask it, here is what I will do. I shall return the warships you demand, and I shall give the Rhodians their trading ports. As for the damage done to your sacred groves, even I cannot cause trees to spring up full-grown overnight, but I shall send choice plants from Macedon, and my best gardeners to plant them, if that will satisfy Attalos.’ He pulled a face, then smiled, and behind him Dikaiarchos and all the rowers grinned broadly at his joking, mocking tone.

‘Gardeners!’ spluttered Phaineas. ‘Do you hear him?’

‘As for Argos, I care nothing for it. Have it back, if you want it.’

‘And Korinth?’ cried Phaineas. ‘Have you forgotten Korinth?’

‘Don’t trouble yourself, Phaineas, about Korinth. It is too far from Aitolia to be a concern of yours. I shall discuss Korinth with Titus, not you.’

At this there was uproar. Philip waited, with a look of amused patience on his face like a comic actor. He turned and said something to Dikaiarchos and the rowers which made them laugh.

Presently he called, ‘It is getting late, gentlemen, and I have a pretty Thessalian girl waiting for me in my bed. Clearly you still have a good deal to discuss, so here is what I suggest. When you have agreed what your terms for peace are, I recommend you set them down in writing, so that you don’t forget.’ He paused and grinned, then turning he nodded at the rowers, and the cutter drew away.

For the rest of the day, and well into the night, the delegates put their various claims in writing. Titus did his best to contain his impatience with this, but in the end said to me, ‘Come, Marcus, let us get some air.’

We walked out along the beach. It was a clear, cool night. The stars shone like crystal, and from the wooded slopes the moonlight silhouetted the forest of maple and oak and tall poplars.

‘No wonder Philip despises them,’ said Titus, after a long silence.

‘He asks them what they want, and they cannot even tell him.’

I nodded. We had left them bickering like midden-dogs about who had rights to which city and which strip of land. I said, ‘Do you think Philip is serious in wanting peace?’

‘No. I realized that this afternoon.’

I asked him why, and he said, ‘Oh, it was nothing Philip said. It was them.’ He gestured back the way we had come. ‘He knows them.

He knew that as soon as he offered them something they would squabble over it.’

‘Then what is he doing?’

‘He wants to show me what they’re like. He wants me to see them through his eyes.’

We walked on. Presently I said, ‘You like him, don’t you?’

He gave a quick laugh. ‘Not quite. He is like a wolf in the mountains, wild and dangerous. He kills at will. He goes where he pleases, and does what he likes . . . No, I don’t like him. He has let his passions rule his reason.’

He paused, frowning, and walked on for a few paces. Then he said, ‘And yet there is something impressive about him; like fire, or like a god, careless of what he is.’

Next day, at the appointed time, we gathered once more on the beach and waited, scanning the sunlit sea. There was no sign of Philip.

‘You see,’ said Phaineas, staring pointlessly out at the empty water. ‘He will not come. He has had his fun.’

‘He will come,’ said Titus. And when the sun had passed its zenith and was sinking towards the mountain ranges of Phokis, Philip’s black warships with their sunburst sails finally appeared.

‘Forgive me,’ called Philip, without a hint of contrition, ‘I have been puzzling over your demands.’ He gestured for his rowers to draw nearer. ‘I wish to speak to Titus Quinctius alone.’

Titus refused, saying the allies could not be excluded. But when Philip insisted, the others agreed to withdraw a little up the beach, leaving only me with Titus. Philip’s cutter drew in. He jumped down into the shallows, and strode up the shingle.

‘Do you never tire of those bickering fools?’ he said.

‘They are my allies.’

Philip shrugged.

‘Will you accept our terms?’

‘Yes,’ said Philip. ‘. . . Mostly.’

‘But not all?’

‘I will give those cur-dogs the bones they want. Attalos may have his ships; the Rhodians may have their strips of land; the Achaians may have Argos, and’ – he pulled a face – ‘Korinth.’

Titus nodded.

‘But not,’ Philip continued, ‘Chalkis in Euboia, or Demetrias.’

‘Then you intend to keep hold of two fetters out of three?’

‘Well you gain one, which is better than none. Remember, Titus, you are losing this war. Do you reject my offer?’

‘It is not for me to accept or reject. It is for the Senate in Rome.’

Philip sighed and winked at me. ‘It is so tiresome,’ he said, ‘having to deal with servants instead of masters.’

‘We all serve, King,’ said Titus, stung by this.

Philip grinned, showing his perfect white teeth. ‘Not I,’ he said.

Up on the beach the delegates stood just beyond the range of hearing, staring curiously. All of a sudden Philip waved his arms up in the air and cried, ‘Boo!’ at them. They looked away in disgust.

Philip laughed.

‘You joke,’ said Titus.

‘Why not? Life is fun.’

‘. . . And you play for high stakes.’

Philip laughed. ‘Always.’

Titus nodded. I could see in his eyes that he would have liked to smile. He said, ‘I must confer with the others.’

‘Again?’ He glanced at me, casting his eyes over my legs with a lascivious leer. Then he turned back to the water and splashed out, like bearded Poseidon returning to the depths.

No one was content, Phaineas least of all. Eventually the delegates agreed to follow Titus’s suggestion, and refer the matter to the arbitration of the Senate in Rome. Each side would send ambassadors to put its case. In the meantime, there would be a truce of two months.

‘A truce?’ complained Phaineas. ‘Only a fool would agree to a truce with that madman.’

‘Either way, I must seek the Senate’s agreement. So let it be now, in winter, when we cannot fight.’