Soldier of Arete Read Free

Artayctes himself went calmly to Hypereides and laid a hand upon his shoulder, saying, "This prodigy has no reference to you, my friend. It is meant for me—Protesilaos of Elaeus is telling me that though he is as dead as a dried fish, yet he has authority from the gods to punish the man who wronged him."
    Hypereides gulped, and stammered, "Yes—that's—it's one of the chief reasons they insist that you—that you and your son—They say that you stole the offerings from his tomb and—and—plowed up his sacred soil."
    Artayctes nodded and glanced toward the fish; by that time they had ceased to jump, but he shivered as if he were cold just the same. "Hear me now, Hypereides, and promise that you will report everything I say to Xanthippos. I will pay one hundred talents to restore the shrine of Protesilaos." He hesitated as though waiting for some further sign, but there was none. "And in addition I will give you soldiers from Thought two hundred talents if you will spare my son and me. The money is at Susa, but you can keep my boy here as a hostage until it is all paid. And it will be paid, I swear by Ahura Mazda, the god of the gods—paid in full and in gold."
    Hypereides's eyes popped from their sockets at the magnitude of the sum. It is well known that the People of Parsa are rich beyond imagining, yet I think that few have dreamed that anyone other than the Great King himself could command such wealth as this offer of Artayctes's suggested. "I'll tell him. I'll— In the—no, tonight. If—"
    "Good! Do so." Artayctes squeezed Hypereides's shoulder and stepped back.
    Hypereides glanced at the guards. "But I'll have to tell him everything that's happened. Latro, I don't imagine you fancy any of those fish—I know I don't. I think it's time we went home."
    I will return to the citadel now—perhaps something can be done to help Artayctes and Artembares.

TWO
    Artayctes Dies
    THE HERALD'S CRY BROUGHT ME from my bed this morning. I was pulling on my shoes when Hypereides rapped on the door of the room I share with Io. "Latro!" he called. "Are you awake?"
    Io sat up and asked what the trouble was.
    I told her, "Artayctes is to be executed this morning."
    "Do you remember who he is?"
    "Yes," I said. "I know I spoke with him last night, before Hypereides and I came home."
    Just then Hypereides himself opened our door. "Ah, you're up. Want to come with me to see them killed?"
    I asked him who was to die, other than Artayctes.
    "His son, I'm afraid." Hypereides shook his head sadly. "You don't remember Artayctes's boy?"
    I cast my mind back. "I have some recollection of seeing a child last night," I told him. "Yes, I think it was a boy, a bit older than Io."
    Hypereides pointed a finger at her. "You are to stay here, young woman! Do you understand me? You've work to do, and this will be no sight for a girl."
    I followed him out into the street, where the black man was waiting for us; and the three of us set off for the sand spit on which the Great King's bridge had ended. It was there, as half a dozen heralds were still bawling (and as half Sestos was busy telling the other half) that Artayctes was to die. The day was overcast and windy, with gray clouds scudding along Helle's Sea from the First Sea in the north.
    "This weather reminds me," Hypereides muttered, "that we must all have new cloaks before we leave here—you particularly, Latro. That rag of yours is hardly fit for a beggar."
    The black man touched Hypereides's shoulder, his eyes wide.
    "For you, too? Yes, of course. I said so. For all of us, in fact, even little Io."
    The black man shook his head and repeated his gesture.
    "Oh, ah. You want to know about our voyage—I was about to tell you. Get us to where we can see what's going on, you two, and I'll give you all the details."
    By that time the people from Sestos were crowding forward and Xanthippos's troops were pushing them back with the butts of their spears. Fortunately several of the soldiers recognized