Ballista’s origins than any lack of tact on his own part.
‘I read somewhere that carp are neither male nor female.’ Castricius now spoke smoothly, in formal Attic Greek, no longer the rough soldier but the man of paideia.
‘Indeed.’ Montanus recovered enough to sketch a smile. ‘They become so when in captivity. My own fish tanks are on the other side of the river.’
Conversation for a time became general on the subject of fish: the catching and keeping of, those good to eat, those less so, and the positively harmful varieties.
Bion, the young deputy strategos , cleared his throat. ‘May I be so bold as to ask our honoured guest to tell us of his victories over the Persians? An opportunity to hear how you made the Persian king flee the field at the battle of Soli is not to be passed up.’
Ballista had no wish to talk about Soli, or the subsequent fight at Sebaste. He remembered little of them. It had been a bad time. He had been near out of his mind, believing his wife and sons dead.
‘There was not much to them.’ Ballista said no more.
The somewhat strained silence was broken by Callistratus. ‘I wonder if we could prevail on you to put aside your becoming modesty and tell us instead how you saved Miletus from the Goths. It is a subject dear to our hearts. Miletus was mother city to Olbia, and many of us have connections there. I myself have the honour of being guest-friend of Macarius, the stephanephor of that great polis .’
That was a happier time, and Ballista acceded to the request. Apart from the Goths’ lack of skill at siege works and the undoubted courage of those serving under him – Macarius notable among them – Ballista put it down to managing to cause panic among the attackers. The unexpected will often bring this about, and two stratagems had worked at Miletus: hidden stakes which the Gothic ships ran on to in the two harbours, and two hastily constructed siege engines unexpectedly raining down inflammable missiles. It was a carefully edited account, which omitted the underhand – if not treacherous – killing of the Tervingi leader Tharuaro.
The uncomfortable memory of his Loki-like trick made Ballista’s final words less diplomatic than they might have been. ‘Looking at the defences coming here, I was wondering how Olbia fell to the Goths.’
The brusque change of subject, on to what obviously was a delicate topic, seemed to instil a certain embarrassment among the Olbians. First Montanus, then Callistratus sought to remove their fathers from any blame. Both had been away. They had been campaigning across the estuary on Hylaea. Most of the fighting men of Olbia had been with them, the fathers of Dadag and Saitaphernes among them. The grandfather of Bion had been in Athens. A band of Goths had sacked the sanctuary of Hecate. It had been a cunning ruse to draw the militia out of the city. Olbia had been retaken almost at once.
To everyone’s relief, the servants brought in the main course.
‘Spring lamb, roast in the Parthian style,’ Montanus announced. ‘My grandfather served in the eastern wars of the divine Septimius Severus.’
As host, Montanus clearly thought it right he should hold centre stage, and guide the conversation back to where it reflected his family in a better light. Ballista was happy enough for it to be so. In this vein, he asked how they had become landowners and councillors in Olbia.
‘My grandfather was a centurion with the XI Claudia. He was posted here after the Parthian wars. When those with the eagles were allowed to marry, he took to wife a woman of good local family.’
As Montanus’s family history unrolled, Ballista enjoyed the lamb. It was in a pepper and onion sauce with damsons. There were peas in cumin, too, one of his favourites.
The peace of the afternoon was broken by noises from the other side of the courtyard. A man in armour burst from the passageway. He sought out Montanus.
‘ Strategos , the barbarians are in the old
‘I read somewhere that carp are neither male nor female.’ Castricius now spoke smoothly, in formal Attic Greek, no longer the rough soldier but the man of paideia.
‘Indeed.’ Montanus recovered enough to sketch a smile. ‘They become so when in captivity. My own fish tanks are on the other side of the river.’
Conversation for a time became general on the subject of fish: the catching and keeping of, those good to eat, those less so, and the positively harmful varieties.
Bion, the young deputy strategos , cleared his throat. ‘May I be so bold as to ask our honoured guest to tell us of his victories over the Persians? An opportunity to hear how you made the Persian king flee the field at the battle of Soli is not to be passed up.’
Ballista had no wish to talk about Soli, or the subsequent fight at Sebaste. He remembered little of them. It had been a bad time. He had been near out of his mind, believing his wife and sons dead.
‘There was not much to them.’ Ballista said no more.
The somewhat strained silence was broken by Callistratus. ‘I wonder if we could prevail on you to put aside your becoming modesty and tell us instead how you saved Miletus from the Goths. It is a subject dear to our hearts. Miletus was mother city to Olbia, and many of us have connections there. I myself have the honour of being guest-friend of Macarius, the stephanephor of that great polis .’
That was a happier time, and Ballista acceded to the request. Apart from the Goths’ lack of skill at siege works and the undoubted courage of those serving under him – Macarius notable among them – Ballista put it down to managing to cause panic among the attackers. The unexpected will often bring this about, and two stratagems had worked at Miletus: hidden stakes which the Gothic ships ran on to in the two harbours, and two hastily constructed siege engines unexpectedly raining down inflammable missiles. It was a carefully edited account, which omitted the underhand – if not treacherous – killing of the Tervingi leader Tharuaro.
The uncomfortable memory of his Loki-like trick made Ballista’s final words less diplomatic than they might have been. ‘Looking at the defences coming here, I was wondering how Olbia fell to the Goths.’
The brusque change of subject, on to what obviously was a delicate topic, seemed to instil a certain embarrassment among the Olbians. First Montanus, then Callistratus sought to remove their fathers from any blame. Both had been away. They had been campaigning across the estuary on Hylaea. Most of the fighting men of Olbia had been with them, the fathers of Dadag and Saitaphernes among them. The grandfather of Bion had been in Athens. A band of Goths had sacked the sanctuary of Hecate. It had been a cunning ruse to draw the militia out of the city. Olbia had been retaken almost at once.
To everyone’s relief, the servants brought in the main course.
‘Spring lamb, roast in the Parthian style,’ Montanus announced. ‘My grandfather served in the eastern wars of the divine Septimius Severus.’
As host, Montanus clearly thought it right he should hold centre stage, and guide the conversation back to where it reflected his family in a better light. Ballista was happy enough for it to be so. In this vein, he asked how they had become landowners and councillors in Olbia.
‘My grandfather was a centurion with the XI Claudia. He was posted here after the Parthian wars. When those with the eagles were allowed to marry, he took to wife a woman of good local family.’
As Montanus’s family history unrolled, Ballista enjoyed the lamb. It was in a pepper and onion sauce with damsons. There were peas in cumin, too, one of his favourites.
The peace of the afternoon was broken by noises from the other side of the courtyard. A man in armour burst from the passageway. He sought out Montanus.
‘ Strategos , the barbarians are in the old
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