Funeral Games by Christian Cameron, Cameron Page B

Hypanis. There should have been a ferry across the swollen torrent, but instead they found an angry ferryman and a cut rope.
    ‘Yesterday, the thieves! The fucking catamites!’ the ferryman shouted.
    He had a dozen or more customers camped around his stone house, waiting for the water to go down.
    Stratokles looked at the river, and then at the horses and men he had with him. He was tempted to curse the gods, but he knew from experience that the gods give what they give.
    ‘We swim,’ he said.
    ‘Fuck you,’ the former phylarch said. ‘I ain’t swimming. They’re a day ahead - downriver, into a port and gone.’
    Stratokles looked at Lucius, who shrugged. ‘I’d put it a nicer way,’ he said. ‘But the man’s got a point.’
    Stratokles nodded. ‘Well, I’m swimming,’ he said. ‘Lucius, I’d appreciate it if you came. The rest of these scum aren’t worth my trouble. Ride back to Heron, tell him you failed, and see what you get.’
    As it was, they rested the horses overnight, ate a hot meal in the man’s barn and the river was down in the morning. Even with that, though, the swim across the Hypanis was one of the scariest things Stratokles had ever done. Halfway across, when an underwater log thumped against the ribs of his horse and both of them rolled under for a moment, he thought he was done.
    Oh, Athens, the shit I do for you.
    But then he was up the far bank. He had brought a light rope from the ferryman, and he tied it to the big oak at the top of the bank, and the ferryman gave him a wave and a cheer.
    ‘Service restored,’ Stratokles said to Lucius, who’d also made the crossing.
    ‘Aren’t we going to wait for the lads?’ Lucius asked when Stratokles rubbed his gelding down and got back up on him.
    Stratokles watched the ferryman and one of his sons inching across in a light boat, using the line Stratokles had carried to keep from racing away downstream. ‘It’ll be all day before he gets his hawser across,’ the Athenian said.
    ‘You’re the boss,’ Lucius said. ‘You think we can take six men all by ourselves?’
    ‘I have to try,’ Stratokles said.
    ‘Well, I’m with you,’ Lucius muttered. ‘I’m a fool, but I’m with you.’
     
    They made Bata in three more days. There was a heavy trireme beached by the stern, and Heron of Pantecapaeum was just coming up the beach when they rode their tired horses down to him.
    ‘They got away,’ Stratokles said.
    Heron nodded. ‘This morning. About five hours ago.’ He looked at Lucius, and then back at the Athenian. ‘You’re a better man than I took you for. You stuck it out all the way across the countryside.’
    Stratokles shrugged. ‘I missed them, though.’
    Heron nodded, his long nose seeming to mock the stub that Stratokles had. ‘The ship they’re on is a coaster bound for Heraklea,’ he said. ‘I can give you this ship and the marines on board. Go and kill them.’
    Stratokles took a deep breath. ‘I have business in Heraklea, and an agent or two,’ he said. ‘On the other hand, this is getting beyond my remit. I’m not your man, Heron. I’m Cassander’s. And killing those children can’t become an end in itself. What damage can they do you?’>
    Heron looked out at the ship, and shrugged. ‘Just do as you are told. Or tell Cassander and your precious Athenian tyrant that unless those children die, I’m no part of his alliance and he can whistle for the grain he wants.’ The tall man gave Stratokles a slight smile - more like a mockery of a smile. ‘I dare say he’ll find that he can spare you for a few weeks.’
    Stratokles stifled the wave of resentment that threatened to escape his throat and take voice. The political daimon that ruled his thoughts - the spirit of expediency, he called his daimon - told him that Herons come and go.
    The things I do for Athens , Stratokles thought. ‘Introduce me to your navarch,’ he said.

5
    T he factor’s steward said that Leon was not there, and his factor,