Killer of Men - Christian Cameron [59]
I nodded, acknowledging that he was right.
‘What’s the problem? A girl? A boy?’ Scyles was all right. He either wasn’t a slave or he wasn’t part of the hierarchy of the place. Amyntas never tangled with him.
‘Grigas is evil,’ I said.
Scyles nodded, and looked away. ‘So?’
‘So,’ I said. ‘So nothing.’ I had learned not to discuss important things, you see.
Scyles was watching a filly. He didn’t take his eyes off her. ‘Good and evil are words philosophers and priests use,’ he said. ‘What do you want to do?’
I shook my head in mute negation. I wasn’t going to tell him. ‘Can I tell you something, lad?’ he said, and his voice was kind.
‘You won’t be a good charioteer.’
‘I know,’ I said, although hearing it from him had the force of an axe blow.
He nodded. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said.
‘But he makes things worse for everyone,’ I said. ‘Not just me. Everyone.’
Scyles scratched his chin and continued to watch the filly. ‘Interesting. I barely know him.’
‘He’s an informer. He forces the girls. He humiliates the men just for fun. The other night he made a farmhand – Lykon, the big one – made him give up the girl he liked. Then he took her. Just like that. That sort of stuff never used to happen.’
Scyles nodded. ‘It only takes one,’ he said. Then he looked me in the eye. ‘Planning to beat him senseless?’ he asked.
I sat silently and stared over his head.
Scyles nodded. ‘Because if you do that, he’ll just report you. He’s probably too stupid to understand that you were born free and might choose to accept punishment to hurt him. Born slaves are always mystified by the actions of free men.’
Somehow that speech moved me deeply, perhaps because Scyles identified me as a free man.
‘If I do nothing, then I truly am a slave,’ I said.
Scyles twitched his lips. ‘You are a slave,’ he said. ‘But—’ He looked around. ‘Listen, lad. Use your head. That’s all I can say.’
I nodded.
And I thought about it some more.
As it turned out, the action was absurdly easy. I over-planned, and then the gods handed me my enemy. A lesson there.
I decided to kill Grigas. Plain, simple murder. Not a fair fight. He had to go, and I decided that I didn’t need to be caught to prove to myself that I was a free man.
I decided to drown him in the baths. I made some preparations and I changed my routine so that we would be in the baths at the same time. I was bigger and stronger. I imagined that I would hold him under water. No screams.
Not a bad plan.
We bathed together twice. The second time, he spent the whole bath telling me things that turned my stomach. He had decided that I liked him.
He was a fool.
I stole a small wooden mallet from the wood-shop so that I could knock him unconscious and hid it in the towels and rags by the big wooden tub.
That evening, Master came. He arrived in a four-horse chariot. I was able to drive four horses by this time, and I was impressed at his skill, considering that he was an aristocrat.
He called for Scyles and the two of them had a long talk. They kept looking at me. It made me sad – I really was a slave – to think that I was going to be sold away. I liked the farm, apart from Grigas. And I could tolerate him, now that I held his life in my hand.
Master chatted for some time with Scyles, and then the two came to where I was cleaning tack. Master had some beautiful halters – worked in bronze and silver, fine Lydian work.
‘Doru,’ he called, and I ran to them.
He nodded to me. ‘Scyles says that you will never make a charioteer, ’ he said. ‘He says that you can drive and handle horses. That you are safe and unexceptional. And that you don’t love horses.’
I stared at the ground. It was all true.
Master raised my chin. ‘Mistress and I have another plan for you. My son needs a companion. He is a little younger than you, I think. But you will make a good right arm. So – would you like to come back to the city with me? And try working for my son?’
I had learned a great deal about being a slave on the farm. So instead of sullen silence, I pretended to be delighted. ‘Yes, master,’ I said, and clapped