Read Online Last Seen in Massilia by Steven Saylor - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Steven Saylor
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sunshine on my face.
VI
I must have lost consciousness, but only for a moment. I slowly woke to a confusion of voices surrounding me, speaking Greek—men’s voices, old men, speaking on top of each other. The babble narrowed to an argument between two voices.
“But where in Hades did these two come from?”
“I’m telling you, they must have tunneled through. I saw when it happened—big bubbles in the moat, then a weird sucking sound, and then a whirl pool. Look how far the water’s dropped!”
“Impossible! If a tunnel broke through, and the reservoir flooded it, how did these two swim against the current? It doesn’t make sense. It’s uncanny, the way they came flailing out of the water.”
“You always look for religious explanations! Next you’ll be saying Artemis coughed them up. They dug under the wall, I tell you.”
“They don’t look like sappers. They don’t look much like soldiers, either.”
“Oh, no? They’re wearing helmets, aren’t they? I say, kill them!”
“Shut up, you old coot. We’ll hand them over to the soldiers when they get here.”
“Why wait? Do you imagine these two would think twice before cutting down a group of old Massilians gabbing in the market square?”
“They look harmless.”
“Harmless? Those are swords in their scabbards, you idiot. Here, you fellows, help me take their weapons. Take their helmets, too.” I felt myself jostled about on the sand and heard splashes nearby.
“Look, the older one’s coming to his senses. He’s opening his eyes.”
I blinked and looked up to see a circle of old men staring down at me. Some drew back in alarm. Their consternation almost made me laugh. The simple fact of being alive made me feel giddy. “Argue all you want,” I said, mustering my Greek. “Just don’t throw me back.”
My Greek may have been rusty and my accent uncouth, but that hardly justified the onslaught that followed.
The most belligerent of the old men—the one who’d argued to kill us on the spot—began to thrash me with a cane. He was a skinny, bony creature, but he had surprising strength. I covered my head with my arms. He deliberately aimed for my elbows.
“Stop this! Stop at once!” The voice was a new one, a man’s. It came from a short distance away. “Slaves, restrain that horrible old man.”
My attacker backed away, slashing his cane to fend off two half-naked giants who suddenly loomed over me. The old man was furious. “Damn you to Hades, Scapegoat! If your slaves lay a finger on me, I’ll report you to the Timouchoi.”
“Oh, really? You forget, old man, I’m untouchable.” The voice was high-pitched, harsh, and grating.
“For now, maybe. But what about later? Eh, Scapegoat? When the time comes to put an end to you, I swear I’ll kick you off the Sacrifice Rock myself.”
There were gasps from the circle of old men. “Calamitos, you’ve gone too far!” said the one who’d been arguing with him. “The goddess—”
“Artemis has abandoned Massilia, in case you haven’t noticed—as well she might, given the impiousness of this wretched city. Caesar pinches us in a vise, and what solution do the Timouchoi come up with? A scapegoat to take on the city’s sins! So now we starving citizens shrivel to scarecrows while that scarecrow grows fatter every day.” The old man threw his cane against the ground so hard it broke in two. He stalked off in a fury.
“Blessed Artemis! The old coot can’t help being ugly and bad mannered, but there’s no need to be blasphemous as well.” I strained my neck and saw that the voice of my rescuer came from a nearby litterattended by a retinue of bearers. “Slaves! Pick up those two fellows and put them here in the litter with me.”
The slaves looked down at me dubiously. One of them shrugged. “Master, I’m not sure the bearers can carry all three of you in the litter. The big one looks awfully heavy. I’m not even sure he’s alive.”
I rolled toward Davus,
VI
I must have lost consciousness, but only for a moment. I slowly woke to a confusion of voices surrounding me, speaking Greek—men’s voices, old men, speaking on top of each other. The babble narrowed to an argument between two voices.
“But where in Hades did these two come from?”
“I’m telling you, they must have tunneled through. I saw when it happened—big bubbles in the moat, then a weird sucking sound, and then a whirl pool. Look how far the water’s dropped!”
“Impossible! If a tunnel broke through, and the reservoir flooded it, how did these two swim against the current? It doesn’t make sense. It’s uncanny, the way they came flailing out of the water.”
“You always look for religious explanations! Next you’ll be saying Artemis coughed them up. They dug under the wall, I tell you.”
“They don’t look like sappers. They don’t look much like soldiers, either.”
“Oh, no? They’re wearing helmets, aren’t they? I say, kill them!”
“Shut up, you old coot. We’ll hand them over to the soldiers when they get here.”
“Why wait? Do you imagine these two would think twice before cutting down a group of old Massilians gabbing in the market square?”
“They look harmless.”
“Harmless? Those are swords in their scabbards, you idiot. Here, you fellows, help me take their weapons. Take their helmets, too.” I felt myself jostled about on the sand and heard splashes nearby.
“Look, the older one’s coming to his senses. He’s opening his eyes.”
I blinked and looked up to see a circle of old men staring down at me. Some drew back in alarm. Their consternation almost made me laugh. The simple fact of being alive made me feel giddy. “Argue all you want,” I said, mustering my Greek. “Just don’t throw me back.”
My Greek may have been rusty and my accent uncouth, but that hardly justified the onslaught that followed.
The most belligerent of the old men—the one who’d argued to kill us on the spot—began to thrash me with a cane. He was a skinny, bony creature, but he had surprising strength. I covered my head with my arms. He deliberately aimed for my elbows.
“Stop this! Stop at once!” The voice was a new one, a man’s. It came from a short distance away. “Slaves, restrain that horrible old man.”
My attacker backed away, slashing his cane to fend off two half-naked giants who suddenly loomed over me. The old man was furious. “Damn you to Hades, Scapegoat! If your slaves lay a finger on me, I’ll report you to the Timouchoi.”
“Oh, really? You forget, old man, I’m untouchable.” The voice was high-pitched, harsh, and grating.
“For now, maybe. But what about later? Eh, Scapegoat? When the time comes to put an end to you, I swear I’ll kick you off the Sacrifice Rock myself.”
There were gasps from the circle of old men. “Calamitos, you’ve gone too far!” said the one who’d been arguing with him. “The goddess—”
“Artemis has abandoned Massilia, in case you haven’t noticed—as well she might, given the impiousness of this wretched city. Caesar pinches us in a vise, and what solution do the Timouchoi come up with? A scapegoat to take on the city’s sins! So now we starving citizens shrivel to scarecrows while that scarecrow grows fatter every day.” The old man threw his cane against the ground so hard it broke in two. He stalked off in a fury.
“Blessed Artemis! The old coot can’t help being ugly and bad mannered, but there’s no need to be blasphemous as well.” I strained my neck and saw that the voice of my rescuer came from a nearby litterattended by a retinue of bearers. “Slaves! Pick up those two fellows and put them here in the litter with me.”
The slaves looked down at me dubiously. One of them shrugged. “Master, I’m not sure the bearers can carry all three of you in the litter. The big one looks awfully heavy. I’m not even sure he’s alive.”
I rolled toward Davus,
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