Free The Wooden Walls of Thermopylae by Nick Brown Page A

what’d you …”
    He never got any further: I heard Eubulus say,
    “Hang on mates: you know who that is, don’t you?”

Chapter Seven
    The game was up, I’d cast the last die and landed the dead man’s throw. The room went silent: I saw the greasy innkeeper slink out of his filthy booth. The orator was the first to reach me; I sat cowering, which it seemed was now my only role in life’s tragedy.
    “Well, well, look who we’ve got here mates; the bum boy Xanthippus took along as bait. Looks like life’s not turning out too well for you, Mandrocles the fucked up.”
    He laughed so hard at this he almost choked. Now they were all crowding round hemming me into the dirty corner. I hadn’t the room to stand up even if I’d wanted to. In my state I couldn’t resist. Scared as I was, a part of me was saying, “Why not let them: get it over quickly, then at least the peace of oblivion.” Wasn’t only me thinking that; someone said,
    “No need to wait for Theodorus, let’s start with him. Won’t take us long, then dump his body in the great sewer.”
    I didn’t even bother to object, I was finished whatever happened so just prayed they’d be quick.
    “Don’t let the wine run off with your wits, mates.”
    The speaker was Eubulus. Why was I always running into him? It took him some time to divert their attention from killing me but he got there eventually, otherwise thistale would have ended in the filthy squalor of that bar. The world wouldn’t have been changed much but you’d have been deprived of my story, reader, and without it you’d have never heard the truth about what really happened back then. The true story of how the Athens you’re so proud of came to be built.
    “I don’t think we’ll get much thanks for killing him before our masters have a chance to question him. A chance to find out what went on with Themistocles before we landed.”
    Even I could see the sense in this once he’d spelt it out, and so could they. It was a tight run thing though. Pulling drunken men back from the verge of killing is no easy task and I’ve seen it fail too many times. They pushed a none-too-clean hood down over my head and marched me out of the bar. I don’t know how long we walked; it felt like hours and with every step the pain in my ribs got worse. They didn’t handle me gently.
    Eventually, after an eternity of stumbling, I felt a better constructed path under my feet as we struck upwards on a steep gradient. If you’ve ever had your ribs cracked badly enough you’ll know what it’s like having to walk up a steep path at an uncomfortably quick pace, even without a greasy hood pulled down over your face. Then we stopped.
    I heard someone hammering at a door, and from somewhere inside a voice demanded to know who we were. I heard it swing back on creaking hinges and we moved forwards. I lost track of time then, we were left to wait, in a courtyard I think from the smell of blossom. The sailors weren’t so confident now; the walk had sweated some of the drink out of them. I think they were beginning to wonder if what had seemed a good idea in the tavern had really been such a smart move.
    Then everything changed. I could tell that they were inthe presence of someone they feared. As soon as he spoke I knew where we were.
    “Let the eagle see the rabbit.”
    There was no response to this.
    “Take his hood off, idiots.”
    It was twilight but it still took some time for my eyes to focus in the light – but when they did I found myself staring into the face of Xanthippus. He offered me a sad and strangely sympathetic smile.
    “I’m sorry you’ve been handled this way, Mandrocles, seems to happen every time I see you. Accept the apologies of my house.”
    He turned to the sailors.
    “This man fought at Marathon, he won his current hurts under my orders. Whatever Themistocles brought down on us was none of his doing. Consider yourselves fortunate you didn’t serve him worse.”
    A retainer tossed