Aegina’s Agony: Love and War at the End of Aegina’s “Golden Age” in 456 Bc

By Bob Miller

This is the second book of a trilogy about the life and loves of Telamon the Greek in 4th Century B.C. Greece. In this book he marries a Persian princess on the Greek island of Aegina near Athens. If Athens is to achieve her ‘Golden Age,’ she must first destroy Aegina, who is her arch enemy and the Greek world’s naval super power. In a multi-year Titanic struggle Aegina repeatedly maules Athens navy, bloodies her armies, and endangers Athens future. Betrayed, Aegina is defeated and the history of her defeat abridged by Athens. Today Aegina’s earlier greatness is still shrouded in Greek history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664176270

Bob Miller

BOB MILLER is Nevada’s longest serving governor, holding office from 1989 to 1999. His son, Ross, who is named after his grandfather, is presently in his second term as Nevada’s secretary of state.

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Copyright © 2021 by Bob Miller.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 07/16/2021

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

793921

To

Farquad al Salman

A patriot who, like Telamon of Aegina 2,400 years earlier,

strives today to help his people by the rivers of Babylon, to

realize a better world, one free of tyranny, war, and chaos.

The Telamon Trilogy

Set in the ancient Mediterranean world in the years between 480 to 407 B.C., the story of Telamon’s life and times unfolds in three books:

Telamon The Greek

In 460 BC, Telamon is captured in Cyprus and forced to serve in military campaigns of the King of Persia. Endebted for his service, the king returns Telamon to Aegina and agrees to help him defend his Island against Athens aggression.

Aegina’s Agony

In 456 BC Telmon marries a Persian high born slave on Aegina, and in the next four years defends his island against Athens. In a Titanic multi-year struggle with nearby Athens, Aegina’s fleet and army are eventually destroyed, and Telamon and his family escape to Carthage.

Souria’s Song

The third book covers Telamon’s years in North Africa as Carthage, Greece and Rome struggle for power and influence, as new empires are born and others die.

Other Books

By

Bob Miller

America’s Disposable Soldiers:

The real story behind the 1990’s Gulf War Illness scandal. A bestseller which led to Congressionl demands that the Veterans Administration care for tens of thousands of Iraqi Freedom veterans with Gulf War Illness. (non-fiction - 2002)

America’s Abandoned Sons:

The untold story of 25,000 American WW-II soldiers captured in Eastern Europe by Soviet forces in 1945, who were secretly hijacked to Siberia. Russia denied it, and with the onset of the Cold War, Washington secretly changed their status from POW to Missing in action… which continues to be their status seventy years laster. (non-fiction - 2014)

The Z-5 Incident:

A fiction story based on a half-century of research in the National Archives about tens of thousands of WW-II Americans secretly held illegally in Siberia. A fast moving international action-packed plot spans the world from Washington to Europe and the halls of the Kremlin as an American POW in Siberia escapes and tries to reveal his story to a disbelieving nation a half-century later. (Factual fiction - 2015)

November 17th:

A fast moving international plot to bring to justice the notorious Greek terrorist behind the 1980’s assassination of six American intelligence personnel in Greece and elsewhere. (Factual fiction - 2016)

The Russian Conspiracies:

From Gorbachev to Putin, an action packed thriller about those involved in America’s last 20th Century Wars in Iraq, and Putin’s behind the scenes program to end America’s world dominance in the new millennium. (Factual fiction - 2017)

Telamon the Greek:

A historical novel set in the 4th century B.C. world as Athens seeks to achieve its Golden Age by destroying its last two opponents: the nearby Island of Aegina and then distant Sparta. The fast moving plot includes a plethora of actors across the Persian and Greek world of that era. (Factual fiction – 2019, and first of a trilogy followed by Aegina’s Agony in 2021)

CONTENTS

The Telamon Trilogy

Other Books by Bob Miller

A Historic Observation

TODAY

Aegina’s Harbor

AEGINA’S MAIN CITY IN 456 BC

Chapter 1 The Fish Market

Chapter 2 The Secret Harbor

Chapter 3 Souria’s Wedding

Chapter 4 The Historian Returns

Chapter 5 The Interval

Chapter 6 The Gathering Storm

Chapter 7 The Olive Grove

Chapter 8 Treason

Chapter 9 North Gate

Chapter 10 The Turtle’s Demise

Chapter 11 The Breach

Postscript

Principal Characters

Glossary

Aegina’s Naval

Historical Time Line(1)

About the Author

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A Historic Observation

Aegina was the superpower of her era when confronted by Athens after the battle of Salamis in 480 BC. In the ensuing two decade struggle with Aegina, Pericles lost most of Athens fleet in the waters around Aegina, his army was badly blooded capturing the island, and his treasury was exhausted. Athens Golden Age ended twenty years later

Aegina’s Agony is set in this era of endless conflicts in Greece. It was a time when few believed mighty city-states like Aegina or Athens could suddenly disappear from history. This was the case for both cities in this saga 2,400 years ago.

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TODAY

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Aegina’s Harbor

M arcel Ramboulette folded the local English edition of the Athens News when he saw Effie approaching the entrance of Aegina’s fish market. He appreciated her lithe lines; narrow waist; and prominent breasts straining against her white halter. She was still attractive, thank God. He sipped at his metrio coffee and then a chaser of the local Metaxa brandy he’d ordered. Here along the quay beside Aegina’s picture-perfect commercial harbor, it was hard to believe things were so out of hand elsewhere in the world. First the recent Muslim invasion of Europe, England’s Brexit insanity. The Trump era which had threatened the world order, seemed less problematic these days, while the earlier Spanish flue epidemic of 1918 had killed so many so quickly, its modern version was slower but more persistent.

May I? Effie asked, pointing to the empty chair beside Marcel.

"It is reserved for you, mon-a-mou, my dear."

Marcel made a rude gesture to a local street hawker now standing beside him with a board of cheap jewelry and trinkets. Oooxii! Go away and get lost, Marcel said.

"Bakhsheesh min fudluck." The hawker implored quietly.

"Imshee!" Marcel replied. The problem of impoverished Arab Moslem immigrant beggars was persistent everywhere in Europe these days

You know, Effie, I’ve been here a week now and am more frustrated than you can imagine. It’s Friday afternoon, and your work at the nearby excavation will not resume until Monday. After lunch, consider spending the weekend with me down the coast at my friend’s house.

My, my, Effie replied, aren’t we being forward? And it is not yet mid-morning.

Would you? Marcel replied.

The house with the blue cephalopods painted all over the white walls? Effie inquired knowingly. Doesn’t your friend mind?

Do you have something more important planned for the weekend?

She smiled and pecked him on the cheek. Why not. Pick me up at the Alimos property at four o’clock this afternoon.

Marcel Ramboullette was pissed off beyond belief. How could this property investment misfortune have befallen him here on this idyllic island? He should have known better. He was a distinguished graduate of Le College de Droit de la Sorbonne in Paris and held an associate’s degree in international law from Princeton University. He was presently associated with the international investments department of the International Monetary Fund, where he’d recently made a name for himself investigating questionable U.S. property investments in Russia via Cyprus’s offshore banks. Some of the leads had led to those in the highest elected offices in the United States, Europe, and Russia. He was not naïve about the problem. He’d attended dinners at Mar al Largo in Miami and others in Washington and London. From these he’d acquired insider information, some of which he’d benefitted from and made his own interesting investments. But his Aegina acquisition had not been one of them. Now he wondered how he’d overlooked the old adage to beware of Greeks bearing gifts!

Despite his best efforts, Marcel was beginning to realize that his property here on the island was in serious trouble, so he’d decided to take some time off from his current work in Spain and find a solution for his investment here, which was still little more than a hole in the ground.

Within a week after the initial construction started almost four years ago, it had been stopped when a back hoe excavating the foundation for his future house had unearthed archaeological artifacts. Initially, it was just a copper-sheathed chest buried in an old foundation wall a couple of hundred years before Christ. Nothing to be concerned about his Athens lawyer had assured him. Such things happened all the time in Greece. But the value of the find concerned local authorities as the chest contained gold and silver coins and an unusual collection of jewelry. Everyone at the time referred to the discovery as the Alimos Treasure, named after the street on which Marcel’s property fronted. The local antiquities department informed him that they were concerned because when such treasures were found, there was often more to be found nearby. The work on his home had to await a published report about the discovery which would appear in the Archaeological Society magazine of Greece.

The report last year made front-page news and was compared to another treasure unearthed a century earlier on Aegina. That one was now on exhibit at the London Museum. Then everything stopped again for a lack of funding, so when Marcel’s attorney called last month and suggested he fly to Aegina, Marcel suspected the worst.

More problems had surfaced. There would be more delays. Marcel was not surprised. Everything in Greece in the last few years was in trouble: her Euro association was again in the news, while Europe’s Schenken Agreement had recently parked another fifty thousand Moslem refugees on the island os Samos near Turkey. No one in Europe would allow Greece to move any of them farther west into Europe.

He’d caught a flight to Athens and been met dockside by Effie. She was the local Greek archaeologist who was still in charge of excavations at his Alimos property. They’d met during his earlier visits to Aegina and had a torrid two-week liaison. Now she’d uncovered a new mosaic floor, eighteen by thirty feet, it depicted the judgment of Paris and included the four figures of Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite, all confronting Paris of Troy on Mount Ida’s slopes. In that epic, Effie informed him, Paris had chosen Aphrodite and won Helen of Sparta as the world’s loveliest woman. They’d then eloped to Troy and started the Trojan War. The four mosaic figures were ornately dressed, Paris in white, Hera in a brown chiton, Athena one of pale blue, and Aphrodite in cherry red.

When Effie had cleared the floor, she noticed a depressed area in its left corner, more of less involving the face and form of Hera. On closer inspection, it was obvious someone in antiquity had cut through the floor and reset the mosaic. But the weight of overburden in the last few thousand years had caused that section of the floor to sag about an inch. Removing the depressed section, she’d uncovered a skeleton. The first indication that this might be someone of wealth was a gold coin resting behind the skull’s front teeth. One side of the coin bore the imprint of the Aegian turtle, and the other the inscription Admit her. This is Demeter Atalante. Judged to be about five foot six in height, the skeleton was estimated to be in its sixties; and from stress marks on the pelvic bone, she told Marcel, it was obviously a woman who had borne children.

By Effie’s reckoning, the mosaic was around fourth century before Christ, probably around the time of Aegina’s destruction by Athens. She was relatively certain about this as the entire floor area had been covered with a layer of burnt ash and debris, indicating the residence had been burned in antiquity. Also found in the opposite corner of the floor were the remains of three unusual knives, six spear points, a short sword, and an Illyrian soldier’s helmet.

***

The following Monday afternoon, Effie called Marcel at his Octopus House down the coast and suggested Marcel stop by before dinner.

My God, Effie, Marcel exclaimed as she stood up in the excavation, what the hell have you found now? You also don’t look well. Are you OK?

I think I caught a cold this weekend. Nothing serious, I am sure.

Let’s hope that is all it is? Marcel replied. I had chills last night but feel fine now.

Effie reached into the box beside her and withdrew a necklace and a matching wrist band. Look at this. It’s 2,400 years old or more and looks like it was made yesterday. I found it beside the skeleton earlier this morning.

Marcel studied the gold necklace with five large pieces of exquisite turquoise. The design of the gold wristband found with the necklace matched the necklace, but with only one large central stone. Turning the necklace over, he noticed the engraving on its back. ABA, any idea what it signifies?

At the moment, Effie replied, "I’m uncertain. I just called an associate in Athens and asked about it. Maybe it’s the Babylonian word for god or father? My associate at the Athens museum asked me to take a picture of the inscription and send it to them. My colleagues suspect they may have belonged to the wife of Pericles. His wife was Agariste Bouzygas. This, they reasoned, might have accounted for the first two letters. Agariste was also of the Alcmaeon clan in Attica, which would account for the last A. But if that is so, then it is unclear what such a piece of jewelry was doing here in Aegina. I shall see what my associate in Athens think"

Effie knelt down again and continued to push aside other pieces of earth from the side of the skull. A gold earring of incredible beauty emerged next as Marcel watched.

I have seen another earring exactly like this in the Athens museum, she told Marcel. As the piece came free, more glints of gold appeared beneath it. Effie called to the guard on the sidewalk to go quickly and fetch the local museum curator.

By the time the curator arrived, Effie had uncovered another diadem, and below that, more pieces of ornately worked gold jewelry. By sunset, more gold coins had also been found along the right side of the skeleton. This is a significant trove, she told Marcel that evening at dinner by the harbor. By the next afternoon, klieg lights had been set up, and Marcel’s Alimos property had been completely blocked off from the street with large sheets of plywood, so the townspeople could no longer observe the proceedings in the excavation. Just after dark, a police car also arrived, and two officers with holstered pistols took up watch.

That evening, as Effie sat with Marcel at his favorite fish restaurant just behind the fish market, he tried to cheer her up. Her cold she’d complained of Monday was worse, along with a slight fever. Marcel too was not feeling his best and suggested he would remain down the coast for the next day or two and recover.

Well, he concluded, now it seems your work as an archaeologist here will make you famous.

It is true. Her life had incredibly changed since she’d met Marcel four years earlier. Back then she was little more that a newly minted twenty-six-year-old Greek Cypriot archaeology student. Now her name had become a household word from the Alimos treasure. Heinrich Schlieman had found Troy and the Mycenean shaft graves in Sparta. And now Effie would surpass Schlieman’s fame with Aegina’s latest Alimos discovery.

I want to go forward with the construction of the house here by the end of the year, Effie, Marcel pleaded. You must help me make that happen.

Problema monamou, she replied in Greek. It’s a big problem, my dear.

Let me show you my architect’s latest blueprints, Marcel insisted, reaching into his satchel and removed several sheets of new plans his architect had sent him from Athens.

These are his latest drawings of the courtyard and house around it. For another 220,000 euros, he proposes leaving the entire mosaic and surrounding walls of the original room in situ, but covered by a quarter-inch-thick glass floor above, which would protect it from the elements. I would also agree to make the garden site open to tourists on an agreed-upon schedule. It would be like the Roman ruins visible beneath glass pavements in the town center at Valencia in Spain. Of course, I would guarantee that I would take care of it. It would be nice to be able to walk daily where others had trod 2,500 years ago.

I am sorry, Marcel. I guess I should have told you this afternoon. The Athens Museum curator called earlier to inform me that they have just petitioned the Athens Parliament to turn the Alimos property into a new museum here. The prime minister thinks it’s a great idea. It would be dedicated to the final defeat of Aegina by Athens in the year 456.

But Aegina already has a museum near the harbor, Marcel protested.

I know. This will take some time, but I do not think you should waste any more time on Alimos. The new museum process could take three to five years.

You will be at the excavation for the next two days, Effie?

Yes. If I feel better.

Marcel paid for their dinner. I’ll drive up to see you the day after tomorrow. Maybe by then we’ll both feel better and we’ll have dinner.

A good idea. Effie replied.

Until then.

***

Hello, is this Mr. Marcel Ramboulette?

Yes, it is.

You are just down the coast from me, near the hotel I think.

What is it to you? Marcel demanded.

How do you feel this morning, sir.

Who is this?

I am Dr. Vellianitis here in Aegina. My office is downtown. Could you stop by this morning. I urgently need to see you.

About what, and how did you get my phone number?

I think you are sick and need to see me.

A cold and a slight fever is all. Nothing to worry about. I’ve had worse in my life. Who told you to call me?

A patient.

Who?

A Ms. Effie, the archaeologist. I think you know her?

Yes. Of course. What of it?

She is deathly ill in my clinic. It’s across the street from the police station.

You are kidding, Marcel said. How?

That is why I am calling you. She indicated to us last night that she thought you also might be sick.

"A slight fever and a cough is all. So what?’

Our conclusion is that her symptoms suggested she has somehow contracted the a plague. But we cannot figure out from where. She has a high fever, shortness of breath, vomiting, and diarrheah. If it is the plague, then it’s the first case in almost sixty years here on Aegina.

I don’t believe this! Marcel blurted out.

I must see you, Mr. Ramboulette.

No way, Marcel replied. I only have a slight fever. I’ll see a physician in Athens.

You cannot. If it is the plague, we must quarantine you here immediately. Today probably. If I am correct, your condition may quickly worsen and require you to be placed in intensive care. When you arrive across the street from the police station, ask for Dr. Vellianitis. I am on the second floor. The line went dead.

AEGINA’S MAIN

CITY IN 456 BC

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Chapter 1

The Fish Market

A narrow alley intersected the top end of the fish market behind the local harbor where it met the street known to local Aegians as Alimos. Today was the first warm day since Shurab had returned to Aegina a few weeks ago with Lord Telamon from Persia. Although there were still about thirty days until the winter solstice, the weather was unseasonably cold.

By the gods! a local Greek exclaimed as Shurab passed him and pulled up a chair at an adjacent table. You look like death warmed over. When did you die, Persian?

The old Aegian soldier’s name was Kleiton. Kleiton was even uglier now than when Shurab had last seen him before he’d traveled east three years ago with his master, Telamon Atalante. Kleiton’s badly cleft skull from an old sword wound and his sunken eyes and smashed nose enhanced his skull-like appearance even more now.

"Haletun chetowrid?" Shurab replied in Persian.

You ask me how I am, Shurab? Where the hell have you been the last few years? It is I who should demand to know your condition. Did you run away? Is Lord Telamon aware you are hiding here?

Watch your mouth, Kleiton. I think you know better.

The last time they had seen each other here at the Orange Crab was probably three years earlier, and at that time, Kleiton had been one of the local guards at Aegina’s acropolis complex nearby.

I heard only rumors that you had returned, Shurab. Where did you go?

That is none of your business.

Ohhhh! Kleiton replied with sarcasm. And this Persian is rude to one of Aegina’s acropolis guards.

Foreign places, Shurab replied. And now I am returned. Shurab was tiring of the conversation with the old guard and decided to go into Ambra’s restaurant and see if he could find a way to seduce her in her bed upstairs.

Stop, slave, Kleiton ordered.

Shurab stopped and, turning, looked menacingly at the old soldier. You may be a citizen here and me not, but Aegina is an oligarchy, and my Lord Telamon is among its leaders. So leave me, be Kleiton, or you may regret your behavior. My Lord Telamon does not suffer stupidity easily.

Baahhh! Kleiton replied. You have no humor.

A short block away to the west lay the commercial harbor, its quays lined this morning with rows of caciques groaning with produce from farms along the coast and nearby islands: their decks loaded with multicolored crates of vegetables: the royal purple of the eggplant, bright greens and yellows of squash, various shades of red of tomatoes, and the dark greens of cucumbers, peppers, and salads. As Shurab entered the main door to the Orange Crab, Kleiton, standing behind him, warned everyone on the street. Beware, everyone, the Persian named Shurab is back. Secure your children lest he eat them!

A shutter above the resauant flew open, and Ambra stuck her head out. By the God! Is that you . . . Shurab? Praise the gods. She stood atop the stairs, aghast as he came up. Look at you! she almost cried in anguish. My god, what have the furies done to you? You are skin and bones.

Shurab shrugged as she ran her hand down his deformed arm. He flinched.

I’m sorry. It hurts you? she asked. I have missed you.

Can we be alone, Ambra?

Just a moment and we will be. She shouted for everyone downstairs to get out. I am closed, and close the door when you leave.

Shurab sat on the cushioned bench by Ambra’s bed and peered through the shutters, studying the commercial harbor nearby for a few moments.

Tell me of your travels, Shurab.

Far to the east and north of Persia, almost to lands of the people with the slanted eyes and flat faces, he replied.

The Atalantes sent you there? she demanded. Fatherless bastards, your lord, Telamon, did this to you?

Of course not. My master was with me.

And he looks as bad as you?

No.

And you returned here with him?

Yes, some weeks ago.

So then he is also insane? And why have you not come to see me earlier?

I was not well, but I am better now.

Are you sure? she challenged him.

Be assured, woman, that only my extremities which you see appear old and beat up before their time. The rest of me still work fine. He smiled, placing his hand in his lap.

I shall remember that when my bed is cold. And what brings you to my room this day?

The usual fare for my body . . . and my soul.

Sorry! No octopus today for your body. The weather has been crap for two weeks and the waters offshore too rough. First I will take care of your soul with some fried squid with lemon sauce, good bread, and hot chicken soup. Is that all right?

No lamb? he asked.

Not today, tomorrow maybe.

Shurab smiled, noticing her familiar gesture that other sensuous experiences might await between her thighs.

Then as soon as you have had something to eat, I—she smiled—I shall see what else still works on the man called Shurab.

He’d rested for the first few days since he and Telamon had returned and was now feeling better. Lord Telamon, his master, had arranged for Shurab to soak for several hours a day at Telamon’s private sweat room, which was one floor below the main floor of the Atalantes’ beside the north wall. In the last three days, much of the soreness from his long sea voyage back from Persepolis had finally abated. His leg also felt better, and his arm didn’t ache so much. He’d mentioned this to Lord Telamon this morning, and that he would like to go for a walk around the city. Telamon asked if he’d seen his girlfriend. And if not, when did Shurab intend to? Not until later had Shurab replied. So Telamon had asked him to make a couple of calls in town. He’d spent an hour with his master’s armorer on Pelekanou Street near the East Stoa, and then Telamon’s favorite weapons maker in the Malouki district fronting Poseidon’s Park. And last, Tarraco the cape maker near the Sea Gate. The latter, having heard Telamon was back, had queried Shurab at length concerning his travels with Telamon in Persia. Refusing to take no for an answer and threatening Shurab with corporal punishment if he did not reveal something about his long absence with Telamon. Shurab had stone-faced him, finally informing Tarraco it might be better if they both went immediately to see Telamon, so Tarraco could repeat his demand for Shurab to talk about their activities in the east.

With their arrival back in Aegina after a three year absence, his master needed new armor and weapons, so Shurab arranged for both men to visit the Atalante residence the following morning. Tarraco, on the other hand, had informed Shurab he would have two dark-blue capes ready within five days.

Shurab appreciatively watched Ambra’s posterior as she moved to the stairs and went to the kitchen to prepare food for him. He recalled the first time he’d slept with her eight years earlier on a sunny afternoon here in this same room overlooking the commercial harbor. Then she’d been thinner and more comely, but Shurab too was older now and not so handsome either. He’d been thinking about her for the last three days and getting aroused with memories of her scent and moist places. If he wasn’t able to seduce her this afternoon, he would ask Lord Telamon for a few silver drachma to rent himself the most expensive courtesan at the local red-light district. It had been months since he’d had a woman, and his hands were too badly mangled now for him to gratify himself. Later that afternoon, Ambra crawled out from under their blanket and closed the windows as the wind had come up and raindrops spattered against the shutters.

Artaxerxes and his stupid missions, Shurab thought as he watched her naked form moving around the room. He loved Lord Telamon but considered it a mistake for King Artaxerxes to have ordered Shurab to accompany him back to Aegina. Shurab should have told the king he wanted to retire. But he knew the king would have had him whipped for refusing a royal decree. And now, instead of living out the last few years of his life with physical comforts in the highlands of Persia, he would continued to wander Telamon’s world with his master.

Aegina too had changed. But thank God, Ambra hadn’t. Many of the earlier outward signs of wealth in the city were gone: the marble pedestal beneath the statue of Poseidon remained beside the harbor, but the bronze statue on it was gone. The bronze statue of Eros in the alcove near the whorehouses was also gone, replaced by a painted amphora with a phallus on it. And all that remained of the four huge life-size copper horses drawing Phaeton and his chariot at the slave market, were dark-green stains on its white marble slab. On every street corner, as Shurab had made his way through the various districts of the city, gone too were the ornate metal brackets that held the street names and the ornate metal door knockers on houses. He’d glanced into Ambra’s kitchen and also noted that most of her copper pots and pans no longer hung from the rafters.

Before he’d left for Cyprus, one infrequently saw men in military attire on the city’s streets, and now armed soldiers were everywhere. And along the sea wall of the commercial harbor, were he’d once fished in the evenings, now stood a guard shack guarding four large trireme warships ready for sea. What brought the new reality home most vividly for him was the Malouki district. In earlier times, it was a deserted warren of empty alleys and streets with hundreds of shuttered stalls and warehouses. Now they were all open as thousands labored to create the implements of war.

He kissed Ambra’s cheek. I must return and inform Lord Telamon of arrangements I have made for tomorrow morning. I will return tomorrow after lunch, and we can make zig-zig again until you scream to Aphrodite that your heart will explode with happiness if I do not stop.

As he made his way through the rain-soaked back alleys to the Atalantes’ residence by the city’s northwest sea wall, he reflected on his earlier life here. Then Lord Telamon had cared little what Shurab did with his free time as long as he attended to his responsibilities, and for an eighth of an obol a day, Shurab had filled his stomach at Ambra’s, while enjoying the sights and sounds of his adopted world. He’d gradually come to love her and now Telamon was sympathetic to his feelings for her, which were obviously more than just physical.

The Accounting

Shurab woke Telamon at midmorning and handed him a moist towel to wipe the sleep from his eyes. My lord, the men you asked me to bring are downstairs. They seem anxious to conclude their business and be on their way.

No doubt! Telamon laughed. The weapons business is booming these days. I will be down shortly.

He looked around the room. It was good to be back on Aegina. During his absence in Asia, he’d forgotten the simple pleasures of Greek life. Washing his face in the bowl on the table, he stopped for a moment to appreciate the table’s beautiful craftsmanship and lathed turned legs that matched a small desk beside it. He walked over to his window and studied the seascape beyond. It would be a good day. He sat in his favorite carved chair and removed his sandals from the matching trunk beside his bed. He made a resolution to read the book on his bedside table. His mother had insisted it was time for him to read it. A local philosopher, she told him, had the universal solution for relationships between men and women. He’d wondered what his mother’s purpose was. She said it was a story about a husband setting out to make his promised bride docile and domesticated, and not to become gluttonous and bibulous, but docile and domesticated, and to know how not to spend in a month what should be spent in a year, and, most important, to know how to keep her man’s wine stored in a cool place.

Rising, he wrapped his cloak around his waist and threw the rest of it over his shoulder. Moving up the stairwell, he could hear Myron on a nearby balcony arguing with a local vegetable hawker who they retained to bring fresh vegetables daily. The family would be eating fried fish, eggplant, and artichoke for dinner.

By noon Telamon had been fitted and his measurements taken for his greaves, cuirass, and, over the cuirass, a muscled chest breast plate of solid brass. The weapons man was familiar with the Kopis throwing knives Telamon wanted, and the cross-chest belt with two dozen throwing knives. Telamon also wanted another six fitted into special vertical slits in the backplate of his cuirass - behind his left shoulder. His armorer was fascinated about Telamon’s use of such knives against the Scythian barbarians who could put such throwing knives between a man’s eyes at fifty paces. Can you do it? the armorer asked.

Last year he could, Shurab assured him.

Now, Telamon said to the armorer, all that remains is the construction and tooling for my Ilyrian helmet and shield.

You want a helmet like the last? the armorer asked.

Yes. But with wider-engraved cheek panels, a thicker nose guard, and accentuated eye slits. I want the eye slits to be insidious.

Insidious? the armorer queried. What does that mean?

Never mind, Telamon said. Bring me some drawings within a few days. I want drops of red blood flowing down the cheek panels from the eyes.

By the gods, the armorer said in awe, the result will be horrible!

So is war, my friend. Just do it, Telamon commanded.

And the top of the helmet? he asked.

A transverse crest with black-and-white horsehair in a cradle with a yellow-and-white-checkered design.

You definitely want to be recognized by all on the battlefield?

I want something unique.

And a shield blazon, Lord Telamon?

For the time being, one with the large Alpha symbol on it.

Like those of Sparta’s Hoplites?

Yes.

The armorer assured Telamon his requests would require about a month: but for extra consideration they could be ready in half that time.

Do it! Telamon ordered.

After they’d departed, Shurab asked Telamon about the wings on the shield he’d designed. They and the eagle’s talons were similar to those of Ahura Mazda Why three? Shurab asked.

Because, Telamon explained, they represented truth, light, and life.

Is it possible Telamon is a believer? Shurab enquired quizzically.

Anything is possible, Telamon replied. In fact I now find the concept of a single God more appealing and simpler than the chaotic pantheon of us Greeks.

Haatman . . . hala shoma ye mard bozorge! Shurab exclaimed with a big smile on his face.

Not so great as practical, Telamon replied.

Half an hour later, Telamon entered the public baths beside the Acropolis to see Katila, his favorite masseuse.

I heard you were back, Lord Telamon. Three or more years now, I think?

And nowhere in my travels have I found a better man to care for my bath.

The usual?

I must leave before lunch.

Having been an athlete, among other activities in his youth, Telamon had first encountered Katila by chance after a wrestling match in the local gymnasium.

How many years has it been, Katila?

You had, as I recalled, just returned from Olympia the year you won two laurels, for wrestling and the armed warriors’ race. Right?

Telamon smiled. It was a long time ago.

Twenty-four years now. Then you told me you were twenty-one.

Yes. Salamis was the next year.

In his youth Telamon had attended to his own bath using a strigil and hard sponge to remove the olive oil and dead skin from his body. His father had taken him to the bath one day and introduced him to Katila, who made his customers appreciate his art. The visits normally required a half day. Washing down with a rough towel was followed by a long soak in a hot room. Then a session with Katila in which most of his clients’ dirt and dead skin was removed with a strigil. A visit to the steam room followed along with immersion in cold tubs for as long as the client wished. Katila then worked his final magic while clients lay prone on a marble slab, working them over first with rough sponges, then lava rock to remove callous material from elbows, knees, and, finally, the feet. For those wishing more, came hot towels on the face and the shaving of unwanted facial and body hair. Five days a week, Aegina’s baths were reserved only for males followed by two for women.

***

Feeling refreshed, Telamon visited the local stables and retrieved his father’s favorite white stallion and rode northeast along the coast to see Coroebos, the family’s accountant and bookkeeper near the Dendrou River.

You seem in a hurry, Telamon? Coroebos observed after some pleasantries.

I am sorry. I am pressed for time and have much to do. I also depart in the morning for Epidavrus, and I need to review our accounts before I leave.

But I had no advance warning, Coroebos complained.

This is all I can tell you, Telamon replied. Deduct our total debts from our total income, and what’s the approximate difference?

Coroebos was a nondescript elderly man with a mind like a mouse trap for numbers, and he could also smell inconsistency at a great distance. Numbers and accounts were his life, and he could multiply/divide, add/subtract with unusual dexterity. Because of these, he had been invaluable to the Atalantes for the last two decades, and Portes had seen to it that he was well remunerated.

You want the estimate now?

Yes.

Just a moment. Coroebus left for a side room and returned moments later. I only have the abbreviated accounts here. If you wish more detailed ones, we shall have to go to the records place at your main factory nearby.

Here is fine. I am only interested in the big picture.

Your father has continued to prosper during the time of your absence in Persia, Coroebos said without referring to the book that he placed on the table between them. The silver trade was very active after you left. Your family had six successful transactions with Megara, Corinth, and Epidavrus, while the other three were with emporiums far to the west—

The silver market was so active? Telamon interrupted. While I was gone?

"Yes. Activity among Athens trapezzia was unusually high for a while. There was a shortage." the accountant replied.

And the reason? Telamon demanded, wondering if it was common knowledge that Athens had also lost a large silver shipment to the Persians last year in Cyprus. The island was the Mediterranean’s largest copper supplier, and King Artaxerxes of Persia had informed Telamon while he was at Persepolis, that the Persians had captured the Athenians silver too.

There were only rumors, Coroebos replied.

And how did our seven trade transactions turn out?

Two were at 20 percent, one at 19, and the other four at 18 percent. A total of 325 talents were involved, netting a cumulative profit of 54.26 talents.

What else?

"Your father also approved two participation voyages with seremaya investment companies and trapezzia. Those involved another 112.5 talents. One has already been concluded at a 15 percent profit. Two others produced 18 and 22 percent respectively. One of 8.8 talents is still unsettled. So far the net profit is 23.25 talents. How much of it is here on Aegina?"

About 14 talents at the moment.

And the rest?

Coroebus studied his notes for a moment. Being held on your account, 3 at Neapolis, 5 at Nicea, 3 at Tripolis, and 3 at Tyre."

The times are not so good now to have large accounts in foreign ports Coroebus. Talk to my father and try to repatriate as much of it as possible next year. And our factories here on Aegina?

Still eight, as before. We’ve acquired more slaves, though, in order to handle anticipated new long-term exports for Euxine as well as Thrace and the Adriatic. You presently have 13,478 employed. We are a little behind in production of cabinets, worked gold, reed matting, wheels, and amphora, but I anticipate enough will be ready by early summer to meet our overseas customers’ requirements.

And the profit from last year’s commercial trade?

"Aside from loans and participations, seventeen ships sailed, we lost five, and the rest returned. The lost ships were a considerable loss. But we’re comfortably covered by profits elsewhere.

And the net gain after everything, Choroebos?

Eighty-seven talents of silver.

Anything else?

Just one, Coroebos replied, but then paused, seeming reticent to explain further.

What is it?

Your agent in Corinth.

Pilis?

Yes. Coroebos seemed uncomfortable with the subject as he elaborated further."

Does my father know?

Not yet.

Then tell me everything.

Pilis borrowed six talents from your family’s accounts to settle a debt he said he owed some woman. Your father only knows about the woman.

What are the details?

Your father did not mention this woman to you?

I am asking you. Telamon’s voice now sounded slightly annoyed.

Pilis did not do it with malice, Lord Telamon, but stupidity for certain. He was obviously overwhelmed by this woman. At fifty years of age Pilis obviously thought she loved him. So he stupidly made an entry to document her locan, and her pledge of precious objects as collateral. She also agreed to pay your father an idiotic 22 percent interest in sixty days. This was all done about two months ago. She had no collateral.

The last time I inspected Pilis’s books, Telamon replied, I saw nothing about this.

Coroebos became deferential. Duplicate books, my lord.

And Pilis today?

The issue will be before the courts of Corinth soon.

And Pilis himself?

Under arrest. He begs to be reinstated and promises he will never do it again.

Collateral?

None.

And his whore?

She cannot be found.

Any assets?

A humble house and an olive grove south of the city. I had them assessed. Less than a fifth of a talent.

And this whore of his . . . she knows where the money came from that Pilis gave her?

Without a doubt.

What are your inclinations?

That what a man does once, he will do again.

And the courts?

He is a citizen of Corinth. The loss will not be recovered. Corinthian law, like that of Aegina, and Athens, espouses the principle that slaves should be punished in their bodies but free men in their property. Since Pilis is a free man, and his property is inadequate, the court will fall back on the principle of eternal vigilance. They will probably decide his employer should have exercised more oversight. The worst Pilis might suffer when all this is over might be a flogging.

I will attend to Pilis.

My lord, is there anything else I can be of assistance with now?

I am pleased, Coroebos. I would like you to go to the Acropolis and see Mallus at the treasury this afternoon. Transfer twenty-five talents of our silver to the treasury from our accounts and prepare an open promissory note for me. I will take it with me to Epidavrus in the morning.

At what interest rate, Lord Telamon?

Two percent for a year.

The accountant’s eyes widened. Only two percent, and on such short notice?

Bring it to my residence this evening.

Your father knows about this?

He will.

Should your father inquire, Lord Telamon, what may I tell him the transfer is for?

It is an advance payment for some things I shall procure in the near future.

Very well. May I ask from whom?

No! You may not.

Lord Telamon, I have been in your family’s employ for several decades. I owe you my allegiance. Your instruction gives me great concern.

Telamon was becoming annoyed with the old man’s insistence. I told you. I will inform my father immediately. Do not ask me about this again.

As Telamon headed for the door, the accountant mentioned that a strange shipment had also arrived for Telamon several weeks earlier and wondered what to do with it? It was from the port of Arvad on the Lebanon coast.

And what was it, Coroebos?

Eight large Iolia clay pots of a foul smelling substance.

Black in color and thick like lard? Telamon asked.

Correct.

How many small wine amphorae would it fill? Telamon demanded.

Enough to fill several hundred at least.

And where are they now?

In your warehouse.

***

That afternoon, Telamon rode into the hills behind the city to see Stavros Paschine. Over wine, bread, and olives, they agreed to the arrangements for Telamon’s forthcoming wedding to Souria. Stavros mentioned her dowry, which was very gracious, and should Telamon die in Aegina’s forthcoming conflict with Athens, the dowry would be more than enough to take care of Souria for the rest of her days. Ten days hence the betrothal would take place and be witnessed by the immediate families of the Paschines and the Atalantes. Ten days after their betrothal, the marriage ceremony would take place at Stavros’s seaside villa just south of the Marathonas shipyards. You understand how this ceremony is done? Stavros asked. Its your first time.

Of course, Telamon replied with bravado.

But Stavros knew he was lying. Telamon had not attended a wedding in his life and had no idea what was expected of him, or anyone for that matter. Let me review the highlights, my young friend, Stavros insisted, so you will not embarrass yourself.

Without the formal betrothal, your union is invalid under our law. It is the first and most important step. So it is important that you be here for this occasion. And be punctual.

I will be back from Epidavrus in plenty of time, Stavros.

I hope so. It is not good for you to insult my family and our friendship by not appearing at the appropriate time. The second act follows ten days later at my seaside villa—at that time the wedding takes place and the feast follows. And after that you and the bride are escorted to your parents’ house, where you will spend your first night. Before arriving for the wedding, you and Souria must first go through a ceremonial purification at the local baths. He winked. Ahhh, to be able to do such things again myself.

Please, Stavros. Get on with it.

I will publicly state, as is our custom, that I pledge my daughter for the purpose of producing legitimate offspring, at which point you will accept the responsibility, and—

No! Telamon interrupted him. You will change the wording, and say only that you pledge your daughter to me as my future wife whom I will honor and respect in marriage.

Have it your way, if this is what pleases you. Once you both make the public statement, the old man continued, as I just said a moment ago, a party will take place, and that evening you will take her to your parents’ house, amidst a procession of our friends and young girls with flutes and torches. At your parents’ home, they will sing hymeneal chants as you carry her across the threshold to the bridal chamber in a ritualistic reenactment of all the women we Greeks have carried off by force over the centuries. Your guests will then remain outside the door of your room and sing epithalamion songs to speed the marriage chamber act.

Will there be any priests or references made to the gods? Telamon asked.

No.

That is good, I was not certain. Someone must also explain to Souria what you have told me, Telamon said affectionately as he hugged his old friend.

Why don’t you also explain it all to her yourself? Stavros suggested with a twinkle in his eyes.

If that is your wish, old friend, then I shall.

***

That evening back in Aegina, Telamon met again with his father and Lambronos for an hour as they hammered out the main points Telamon would deliver to the city elders of Epidavrus the next day. Lambronos would also sail for Megara the day after tomorrow, and make one last attempt to change Megara’s mind about joining Athens in a forthcoming conflict against Aegina.

As father and son sat later on the balcony watching the stars, Telamon withdrew the promissory note from their accountant and showed it to him.

What is it about?

The fire machine I spoke to you about, Telamon replied.

I am not pleased about this. Fire at sea is not our way.

I want your blessing Father. Why did we build the secret harbor? His father did not reply. Telamon knew he understood why he’d just asked the question. It was to prevent enemies from burning each others warships when beached in